#snake cufflinks

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

To Love and To Cherish (I)

Part 9 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: Smut (18+), CNC Play, masturbation (f), practice of future CNC play.

A/N: Hoping to get To love and to cherish (II) out soon.

Something’s shifted.

It’s intoxicating being in the same room with him, you can barely think straight in his presence.

When he wakes up in the morning, to get dressed for work, you wake too, and you watch him.

It’s training day, and he has to go in extra early, but the time doesn’t stop you, you wake, and you watch him quietly, as he steps out of the shower with his torso bare, delicious snake tattoo on display for you.

He puts on a show for you, one towel snug around his hips and another smaller one for his hair. You don’t hesitate, propping your body on two pillows, tossing the covers off.

He pauses, glancing in the mirror to make eye contact with you when he sees the movement.

You hold his gaze, tugging your dress up to expose your lower half to the open air.

His eyes are dangerous, warning you not to push your luck.

But you want his anger, you want his rage, you want his darkness.

You slip your hand between your legs.

His throat bobs as he swallows, and after a moment, he resumes his routine while you massage your clit gently behind him.

You watch him easily, delicate fingers roaming over your swollen bud, gentle, featherlight, content to observe him and nothing more.

Your body burns, begging you to go faster to get yourself off, but you know, just like he knows, that it’s not going to happen until he can.

You watch him slide his boxers on, then his socks, pants next, and you hum delightfully at the way he looks, messy, with his white shirt open exposing a part of his chest and abdomen. 

You want to lick the trail of hair below his navel, your fingers speeding up.

When you whine a second time, he turns his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye as you stare at him in the reflection of the floor length mirror.

You know what it means, you’re taking too many liberties, and you stop the motion of your fingers automatically.

He faces forward again, buttoning his shirt slowly.

When he’s done with that, he steps into his closet for a tie. He brings back two options, leaning against the bed as he holds them out for you. One is a dark mauve, and the other a slate grey, you tilt your head, observing the colour of his pants before you raise your hand, slick with the arousal from your cunt, and run your fingers on the back of the purple tie.

He drops the other tie on the bed beside you, sliding the tie you selected around his neck. Your fingers glide right back between your legs, tormenting your body for his pleasure.

He steps away again, grabs cufflinks and a watch, drops them on the bed and presents one wrist for your assistance.

You look him right in the eye when you reach for a cufflink, your fingers sticky with your arousal. Pressing them into his sleeve. They’re silver, and as you squint in the early hours of the morning, you notice a snake engraved onto it.

You look up at him, breath halting in your chest at his expression, his lips curled into a gentle smile, his eyes so dark you swear they take up all the light in the room.

You look down, reaching for the other cufflink, and then his watch.

His hands are… gorgeous, and you turn his palm upward so that you can press your cheek against it. A blissful sigh leaves your lips, his rough palm on your cheek and you delight in how whole you feel, your fingers going right back to that spot that craves him so desperately.

“Tell me something else that you know about me.” You beg, looking up at him.

His eyelids flutter for a moment.

“I've seen your porn preferences. I know what you touch yourself to the most.” Billy answers.

Your mouth parts in shock, but your fingers don't stop their glide on your clit, eager for the information.

When he reads your reaction, and determines it's not one of real fear, he decides to take it further.

He pulls his hand from your cheek, pushing you back until you hit the bed with a gasp, he hovers over you ominously, and the same hand that was just cupping your cheek gently, rises to grip your jaw firmly.

“You like hearing that? I know what dirty things you look at while you play with that little cunt. I know what no one else knows about you, I've read the porn you get wet to. Does that turn you on?”

You whine, fingers moving faster on your clit as you nod.

He releases your jaw, reaching down, he grabs your wrist to pull your fingers from between your thighs. 

“Enough.” He growls lowly, and you feel a shiver of bliss traverse your spine.

After a few moments, you come to your senses just a little, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

You pant, watching his hands release your wrist, his fingers trailing down your forearm, and up to your shoulder.

He slips his fingers under the strap of your dress, sliding it down your shoulder, tugging at it, until your breast is almost exposed but not yet.

His hand presses to your shoulder next, thumb roving over the exposed skin.

“Do you like… bondage?” He whispers, the tips of his fingers dragging gently on your skin.

You shiver, tilting your head to the side to let his fingers explore you. You nod subtly.

His hand wraps around your throat.

“Words.”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper in a rush, “I like the idea of being tied up.”

“Why?” He pries.

“Helpless.” You stutter out, a little ashamed.

His eyes are dark, overwhelming in a way that makes you feel like you've been holding your breath. Your vision swims, hypnotized by him.

His mouth curves up into a devious smile.

“You wanna be helpless for your husband?”

Your body throbs as you whisper your affirmative.

Then he blinks, and the darkness in his eyes recede, he leans down, a quick kiss to your lips.

“Three more days.” He promises, before he straightens his body, leaving you in the next moment, dishevelled, and barely breathing.

.

He pulls your hands behind your back, keeping them locked together in his grip while he pushes your shoulder, forcing you to bend over his desk until your cheek presses against the cool wood.

You stay there for a second, trying to breathe through your arousal, your panties already ruined from a few minutes ago when he was asking your permission to do this.

“How was that?” He asks softly, loosening his grip on your wrists.

You make a little shake of your head.

“Harder.” You whisper.

“Sure?” He checks.

“Please.” 

He grips your wrists once more, pulling you up, his other hand gripping the back of your hair to manipulate your body better, walks you over to his floor length windows, his movements a little more forceful, and doesn’t stop until your cheek is pressed securely to it.

“Better?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” You mewl, cheekbone aching a little with the pressure, “Hit the glass.”

His hand slips from your hair, he spins you around, so easily manhandling you in a way that has your legs wobbling while you try to keep up.

You’re looking right into his eyes when his palm slams against the glass right beside your head. It makes a deep sound, you can feel the vibration of it against the glass. It makes you press your thighs together tightly in response, something tugging harshly inside of you.

He leans in, a stern expression on his face as he gets close.

“Did my little plaything like that?”

You close your eyes, nodding your head frantically.

“Two days.” He promises, a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

.

“One more day.” He whispers into your ear, standing behind you, he pulls your hair away so that he can place soft kisses on the nape of your neck.

You giggle, tilting your neck to give him better access.

“Someone is going to see us.” You warn him, as you stand in Anvil's rooftop restaurant, looking out the window at the skyline.

“I love how you think that would stop me.” He teases between kisses, “Anyway, what's one more day? I'm sure I'm well enough now. We can go back to my office and get rid of all this… frustration.”

You glance around to make sure that no one’s around, the late time of day helps with that.

“I wanna see a signed note from your doctor before you’re allowed to do anything. Besides,” You turn, wrapping your hands around his neck, watching his smile as he looks at you, “Wouldn’t it be a little sad if we waited this long, only for our first time to be in your office?”

“Oh, suddenly you don’t like my office? I can recall a lot of times you begged for me there.”

You scoff in amusement.

“I’m just saying, we should make the next time special.”

“It’s going to be.” He promises, with no elaboration.

His face takes on a serious expression, glancing away for a moment, deep in thought. You study him, waiting patiently for what you can see he’s building up the courage to say.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, softly.

Of course you did, more than anything, Billy knew you in a way that no one else did, he understood you, on levels that no other person could. Of course you trusted him.

Whether you should, was a different debate.

“I trust you.” You confirm.

“Sure? You know, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know. I promise you I know that.”

“Mrs. Russo?” The barista interrupts, “Your order is ready.”

“I love when people call you that.” Billy murmurs when you pull your hands from around his neck to step away.

You loved it too.

.

Billy holds your body tightly to his as you finish up lunch. His arms are wound around you as you lean against him.

You sigh, tucked against his body, feeling so safe and cared for, his arm resting easily on your shoulder, your eyes slip shut to help you relax.

“So, I kind of have a question for you.” Billy hums, his voice close to your ear.

“Hmm?” You ask, reaching up to link your hand with his.

“Can I have your wedding ring back?”

Your eyes spring open.

Before you can even ask for clarification, he’s speaking again.

“Only temporarily, I want to add something to it.” He explains.

You raise your other hand, examining the ring, you feel him press closer.

“It’s beautiful on your hand.” He murmurs.

You smile, because you know he can’t see it, you let your emotions show on your face. His left hand moves, reaching so that your fingers can interlock. Your rings glitter together beside each other.

You love the way they look, the little star etchings, the small sapphires, the way your rings look like extensions of each other.

“You can’t leave my finger bare, I’ll miss the ring too much.”

He makes a little chuckle.

“So I should have bought a replacement?”

“Not necessarily, you just have to put something there to keep the spot warm- like a rubber band or something.”

“I am not gonna wrap some shitty rubber band around your pretty finger.”

Glee fills you.

“So what then?”

“Umm..” He starts, pulling his hands away so that he can check his pockets for something, he glances at his desk, searching for ideas, before he tugs a little pocket knife out of his pants pocket and then tugs the small pocket square out of the breast pocket of his jacket that’s draped over the arm of the couch.

You sit up, watching him as he carefully slides the knife through the edge of the fabric and raises a small strip of silk cloth for you to see.

Your eyebrows lift in amusement,  and you put your hand in his when he asks. His fingers wrap around the ring and you curl your fingers for a second, thinking about it for a moment, before relaxing.

He slips the ring from your finger so easily that you hate it. He makes it better by tying the strip of silk around your finger comfortably and cutting off the excess fabric.

It doesn't feel the same, your finger uncomfortably bare. You curl your hand into a fist, trying to force your familiarity.

He's studying you raptly when you look up at him, his head is tilted to the side in observation.

“What?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, a smile curling on his lips.

“I'm just admiring how sad you look without my ring.”

You give him a look of annoyance.

He grins.

“Come here.” He says, reaching for you, gripping your hips and tugging you onto his lap. You adjust your body accordingly so that you straddle his hips.

He grips the back of your head, pulling you down so that your lips meet.

He groans into your mouth, and you hum in response, your hands cupping his rough cheeks.

“My wife.” He hums between kisses, and you smile, deepening your kiss, Feeling his arms wrap tighter around you.

Your stomach tingles, hearing him say those words, you nod into your kiss, trying to tell him that yes, you were his wife, without having to say it.

More and more you were coming to understand how much you loved him, that every time you checked, you found it to be deeper than before.

He pulls back a little but you're not having it, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue past his lips.

Billy groans, feeling your urgency, responding to it with the tightening of his grip. He slides his hands over your body, admiring how good you feel above him.

He's hard, you can feel it, snug between your thighs and you don't hesitate to roll your hips against him.

He stiffens, gripping your hips to stop you. He laughs in the breath between kisses.

“Stop. Or I'll strip you bare and fuck you right here.”

Your fingers wrap around the knot of his tie, pulling him closer.

“Maybe your office wouldn't be so bad.”

“For what I have planned for you, I'll need more than an office.” He counters.

You sigh, releasing his tie and sliding off his lap. He lets you go easily, though his fingers still reach for you, twitching to hold himself back.

“Your loss.” You tease.

“Not at all, I'll make up for it later.” He responds, voice calm and casual.

You raise your eyebrows curiously.

“What exactly are you planning?”

He smirks in amusement.

“Just a little payback, Mrs. Russo, don't worry your pretty head.”

.

You’re holding his hand when you leave the building, but you draw up short when instead of one car waiting for you, there are two.

There’s a woman standing beside one car, a clipboard, or maybe a binder in hand. She stands straight, her bright red hair catching on the wind.

Billy says your name, and you turn to him curiously.

His eyes are on you, and he tilts his head, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

“You’re going to have to trust me now.” He says, his voice a little loud to compete with the din of New York.

You nod, trying to tell him that you understand without having to say it.

“Will I see you soon?” You ask, catching on to the idea that you'd be going to a different place than he was.

He smiles, nodding his head and leaning in to kiss the top of your head. As he lets you go, you reach for him, gripping his arm, a little afraid to be without him.

“Tell me something.” You plead, looking up at him.

He smiles in understanding, leaning down to press his lips to your ear.

“Sometimes, when you thought you were talking to Dominic, you were actually talking to me.” 

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your body going warm in the cold, New York air.

.

You let out a soft sigh, squinting down at the open binder in your hands.

The redhead from earlier, had introduced herself as Sam, eager to get you into the car so that you could begin your journey to wherever you were going. She wouldn’t tell you, only giving you a soft smile before informing you that it was kind of a surprise.

She’d opened the binder, explaining that she planned special events and that Billy had contacted her for something very special. You assumed, with the way she was speaking, that she thought this was something of a date, and not what you guessed it really was- Billy’s attempt at taking six weeks’ worth of sexual frustration out on you.

The binder itself had contained pictures of a variety of different things. From dresses to food to flowers, she wanted an idea of the things you really liked.

You were stuck on dresses currently, flipping through, searching for something that really stood out. Sam had explained that these were already narrowed down by Billy, and whichever you chose would come along with you.

You were still curious about where you could possibly be going.

There was an obvious theme to the dresses, ball gown-esque in their design, not over the top because he knew you didn’t like that, but nothing overly simple as well. Some were covered in rhinestones, some were layered with delicate tulle fabrics, one had a keyhole neckline that could be seen as very inappropriate in a formal setting.

You scanned the pages, knowing that whatever dress you picked would most likely be torn from you before the night was over, and if you picked the right one- for example one with a high slit- you may have the opportunity to wear it just a little longer than the others.

When your eyes settle on one of the more shimmery materials, you blink, tilting your head. It wasn’t too extravagant, and yet something about the way the fabric looked kept drawing your eyes. The best part was the high slit, that you could assume would come up to the middle of your thigh, which would make it easier for you to run if necessary.

“This one.” You angle the book so that Sam can see. She nods eagerly, reassuring you of your selection.

“That one can be off shoulder, or with straps. What are you feeling?”

You hum, deep in thought for a moment.

“Off shoulder.” You decide, smiling at the thought of it.

“And, I also want something else, but you can’t ask any follow up questions.” 

She tilts her head, and you explain it to her.

.

Your mouth drops open when the car comes to a stop, and there’s a jet waiting for you.

“Where on earth am I going?” You ask in disbelief, tuning to Sam in shock.

She smiles apologetically, shakes her head.

“You’re supposed to trust him, he said.”

Billy could be really outrageous at times.

The pilot introduces himself, and when you ask him about the plane’s destination, he angles his body to Sam, who simply shrugs. 

By now, it’s well into the night, and as the plane takes off,  the stewardess provides options for your dinner.

Billy’s methodology was madness, and you, equally mad for going along with it. Here you were, on a plane with people you didn’t know, going to an unknown place and all you had to go on was your trust in him, the man who’d trapped you in a marriage.

You didn’t even know where your passport was- how did you even get this far in the first place? You had no clothes, nothing to change into, not even a toothbrush-

Your thinking halts when Sam presents a small leather bag to you. You look up at her, taking it into your hands, the hum of the engine loud in your ears.

You look down, unzipping the top and peering inside.

Billy Russo, your magnificent husband, had packed you a bag of essentials.

You knew it was him, who else would know all your product preferences, you even find a pair of silk pyjamas, with your initials embroidered onto the breast pocket.

There was no one like him, and you knew, deep down, there’d never be another.

You smile to yourself, wanting to spill over with words of adoration, aching to grab the next person you could find and tell them how much you loved your husband.

“There's a bedroom in the back,” Sam says, “You can sleep there, we should arrive in the morning.” 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise that the flight would be that long.

You study Sam for a moment, she gives you a shy smile, and you roll your eyes, already knowing that she wasn't going to tell you where you were going.

Dinner is delicious, beans, potatoes, chicken, and you really enjoy it, though you find yourself missing the warmth of your husband at your side. You realise that you've been around him constantly for a long time, and although you're still on his plane with his staff, you've never been physically farther since you woke up married to him.

Halfway through dinner, you get a text from him. You smile as you open the message, seeing that it's just a single photo of a document clearing him for work and physical activity as well.

Your mind goes wild with your imagination of what you're going to get up to, so of course, after you've settled into bed later, you unbutton the shirt of your pyjama top a little to send him a tasteful photo of your chest, your embroidered initials just barely covering your nipple. 

You see the read receipt activate and you grin, watching him begin typing and stop repeatedly for five minutes before a message actually comes though.

I was in a handover meeting with Frank when I opened that. I groaned out loud and he kicked me out of his office.

You giggle.

I hope you're happy, he adds.

Your only response is to send him another picture, this time, you have your breasts on full display for him.

You're in so much trouble, is his only reply.

.

You wake when there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you,” She says through the door, “But you should get dressed, we’re landing soon.”

You glance at your phone to check the time, 10 am. You squint in confusion, knowing that you hadn’t been flying for that long.

You manage to pull yourself up, with a little grumble and get showered and dressed, Billy having supplied another item of clothing- a sundress- at the bottom of the bag.

You're seated and buckled in when the plane lands, and on the way out, the stewardess presents you with a cup of coffee and a breakfast bagel.

You take a look at your surroundings, studying the airplane hangar that you'd docked into, looking for any flags or language differences.

All the signs are in English, but you don't see any flags. You don't have a chance to look outside, being guided into an awaiting limo.

When you get settled, another text comes in.

Stop trying to figure out where you are, just go with it.

You roll your eyes in mild annoyance.

Did you just roll your eyes at me?

You blink in shock, raising your head and looking around. Sam pays you no mind as she studies the area outside while the limo drives. You figure there must be a concealed camera somewhere, allowing him to look at you.

Creep, you think affectionately.

Another message comes in, with an attached picture that makes your eyes widen and your core heat up.

It's a photo of his lap, fully clothed, Except he's gripping his cock through the fabric tight enough that you can see how hard he is.

You grit your teeth. Billy was such a fucking tease.

I'm going to have to apologize to that poor pussy for how hard she's about to be punished.

You clench, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to bite down, feeling the pain center you.

You take a moment, turning your phone down to let the emotions run through you. Your heart was pounding in your chest you could feel the buzz of anticipation in your veins. Soon he'd have you, manipulate you into submission, make you his very own plaything.

You could barely contain yourself, desperate for it, the thoughts of riding his cock till you couldn't breathe, the feeling of his hands on your skin, the way his tongue knew exactly how to glide across your clit. 

You smile, turning your phone over, sending a message to him, a challenge.

You'll have to catch me first.

.

The shift in timezones makes you a little groggy, and you’re almost half asleep when you see it.

You blink, trying to wrap your head around what you're seeing through the window of the limousine.

With tall, pointed spires, soft beige brick, the castle stands at the centre of a large piece of land, extending out as far as you can see.

It's not obscenely large, a flair of something ancient and baroque in its style, spanning the size of maybe a football field, or perhaps, a little smaller.

However dark the castle seems, is offset by the brilliance of the surrounding gardens. 

And it takes you, it spins your mind, weaves intricate webs of fantasy and lust, makes you consider, just for a moment, the things Billy would do with you here, the ways it could make you feel.

“Gorgeous.” You hum, deep in your own wonder.

“It is.” Sam agrees, “When Mister Russo told me he'd gotten it all to himself for a week- well it blew my mind. This castle is super exclusive, they only rent a few rooms, to get the entire place, I can't even imagine.”

You want to stop her so many times. He'd rented the entire place? For a whole week?

Your cunt was definitely in trouble.

“Hmmm.” Is the only thing you can say, heart tugging in your chest at the implications, stomach fluttering in excitement.

There's a small welcoming party at the entrance door where the car comes to a stop on a circular driveway. You step out first, smiling politely and shaking hands with the people that introduce themselves. There's a house manager and groundskeeper and so many titles get tossed your way that you almost forget them all.

The tour of the castle is thankfully brief, because despite your night of sleep, the travel has made you exhausted. You smile politely, amazed at the beautiful interior, eager to explore it more on your own time later. You do take note of the dining room, with its large windows and the throne room that holds an impressive chandelier. You try to remember one important detail about each room as they begin to blur together.

Your room is on the second floor, a magnificently large space with an obscenely decorated four poster bed. It's gorgeous with intricate wooden carvings on the walls and on the columns of the bed.

You feel like royalty when you flop onto the bed, simmering with excitement as you let the effect of your surroundings sink in.

Your stomach flutters, you gaze up at the soft pink canopy, studying the intricate designs on the ceiling, letting the looping patterns calm you.

As you relax, sleep takes over, the fatigues of travel finally taking its toll.

.

.

.

[irisintheafterglow]

like we’re made of starlight (timeskip!iwa x you)

summary: on the night of your birthday, you accompany hajime to the olympic team's new year's celebration, meeting the players and receiving a small surprise.

wc: 1.78k

cw/tags: swearing, alcohol and drinking, established relationship, crack and fluff and atsumu being dumb, one (1) down bad iwaizumi hajime, implied fem!reader but they/them pronouns used

note: this is dedicated to the #1 iwa lover @shotorus <3 i hope you have a spectacular birthday and enjoy this little thing for you and your man :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated !

“You know, if I’d known they planned this whole shabang on your birthday, I would have asked them to reschedule.” He squints skeptically at the colorful strobe lights shining outside of the club, one of the most prestigious in the city and the venue for the Olympic team’s belated New Year celebration. You could only imagine how loud the inside of the club would be, especially since it already seemed overwhelming outside and you weren’t even in the building yet. “I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend, something a little…quieter.” 

“It’s okay, really,” you reassure him, setting a comforting hand on his thigh as he continues to bounce his leg in the driver’s seat. You run your thumb over the expensive fabric of his dress pants and he visibly relaxes, releasing a deep exhale and giving you an apologetic smile. The line for the valet was long and your boyfriend had politely declined your suggestion for him to hop out while you get the car situated. “I’m here for you and to meet the guys.” 

“That’s also something I’m a little anxious about,” he admits.

“How so?”

“They can get a little wild at these kinds of celebrations.”

“Well, we can bail whenever we want, right?” He nods, still a little unsure. “So, if the vibe is off or people start getting a little too wild, we leave and eat soup on the couch with a movie on.” The last comment about lounging around finally makes him smile and you lean over to press a light kiss on the side of his face, taking note of the way his ears become a little pinker even in the darkness of his car. A few minutes later, Hajime helps you step out of the car, tug on your coat and leads you to the entrance of the club, bypassing the extensive line with a tilt of his head to the bouncer. 

“This place was 100% Bokuto’s idea,” he mutters when you both step inside. “It’s like we’re at a frat party again.” A club employee escorts you up the stairs to a private, second floor balcony that overlooks the dance floor. “All the lights and music and drunk people is very reminiscent of that one during–”

“During junior year, second semester. The one I dragged you out of your dorm for because my roommates flaked out and I didn’t know anyone else to go with,” you grin, looking down at him over your shoulder as you climb the stairs. He’s quick to close any remaining space between you two once you reach the landing, snaking a protective arm around your shoulders while the employee gestures for you to join the rest of Hajime’s coworkers. “Except this time, everyone’s of age to drink.”

“In theory,” he murmurs. “I still think Hinata’s younger than he says he is.” You stifle a snort into your fist and catch him smirking before you’re bombarded by several suit-clad athletes with varying levels of alcohol intoxication. “Watch out for Atsumu. He spit-talks when he’s drunk.”

“Our beloved trainer has arrived!” On cue, the more chaotic Miya twin appears in front of you with one arm slung around his Jackal teammate, a buzzed-looking Bokuto, and followed closely by Hinata and Sakusa. “What took you so long?”

“I couldn’t find my good cufflinks,” he shrugs, revealing the silver volleyballs hiding on the inside of his wrists, the ones you got him on his first anniversary of working as a trainer. “Thought they were appropriate for the occasion.” You smile, watching your boyfriend act as cool and casual as ever, even in the face of his very enthusiastic colleagues. “I, uh, have someone for you all to meet,” he says, glancing at you with a questioning glint in his eye. Are you ready? You nod, taking a deep breath as he introduces you as his partner. 

“Like, in business?” Atsumu asks with such a genuine expression that makes you giggle. Behind him, you can see Sakusa slap an exasperated palm against his forehead. “You have a secret side hustle?” You bite your lip to keep from laughing too hard and look up to find your boyfriend with a similar expression. 

“No, dude,” Bokuto says slowly. “He means like, romantically. Like, a life partner.” Atsumu’s eyes widened to the size of car tires. “A partner for life, you know?” 

“Holy shit, you’re married?” You catch Sakusa mouth oh my god under his breath before he walks away from his dumbfounded teammate. Hinata is quick to steer both of his friends to a table before they fall over and rejoins the conversation as Hajime introduces you to the more collected players of the group. 

You shake hands with the stoic skyscraper that is Ushijima as well as receive a warm hug from Komori. Both note how great it was to finally meet you in person after your boyfriend seemed to never stop talking about you, before the man in question hurriedly introduces you to another player. Suna and Sakusa are quietly polite but open up more once you ask them about how training is going for the next Olympic games. While you chat with them, Hajime pulls over Aran and Yaku, introducing you as his partner with poorly hidden pride. Once they’ve assimilated into your conversation, he disappears into the herds of players and staff again to no doubt drag out another coworker.

“Forgive him for coming and going so much,” Yaku says apologetically. “I think he’s been waiting to show you off for a long time, even if he won’t admit it.”

“He’s really excited for people to meet me, huh?”

“I’ve never seen him this hyper and I’ve been drunk at a karaoke bar with him,” a new voice says who introduces himself as Kuroo, a tall guy with spiky hair that you remember Hajime arguing with over the phone several times. “Our offices are right next to each other and I like to play pranks every so often,” he explains when you ask him about why your boyfriend yells at him so much.

“Technically, it’s his fault for being out of the office so often,” Suna reasons. “And I only say that because I’m one of the accomplices to the office pranks. We all are.”

“I bought the wrapping paper for the one on his car,” Aran adds. “Yaku pitched in for the Post It notes on April Fools day, but we don’t let Atsumu in on the pranks anymore ‘cause he talks too much.” Your mouth gapes in disbelief, unable to imagine the organized, well put-together machine that is your boyfriend getting pranked so easily. 

“It’s only because we love him as a trainer, though.” Yaku is backed up by nods of agreement from the rest of his team. “He really loves his job; I think the only thing he loves more than volleyball is–”

“You, obviously.” Hajime returns from fishing out people to introduce to you, easily finding his place by your side. “They tell you about how much they fuck up my office?” The perpetrators’ voices overlap each other in protest, arguing that he’s the one who keeps leaving his door unlocked. “Yeah, yeah. Just you wait until I get this one in on pranks against you guys.” He tilts his head towards you and is met with friendly taunts of competition, saying that you’re too nice to prank them or that they’d never fall for any of his pranks. His head dips to whisper in your ear while the team is preoccupied with debating what song to request from the DJ to create one big Olympic flashmob. “Mind if I steal you away, real quick?”

“Of course. But be fast; you need to be back in time for the big dance number,” you tease and he rolls his eyes with an amused smile, lacing his fingers in yours and pulling you down a back hallway of the club. The black walls reflect the moody shades of pink, orange, and blue shining from the lights above and you find that the music isn’t as loud in the little corner he finds for you two. When you’re ready, he pulls out a small box tied with a ribbon from his pocket.

“Wanted to give you this on your actual birthday but didn’t want Atsumu’s big mouth to ruin it out there,” he says and you chuckle, carefully taking the box from his fingers and unwrapping the bow. You pull off the lid and find a delicately silver chain threaded through a pendant indented to resemble a volleyball; flipping it over and admiring it in the light, you discover a stamped “H” on the back that only appears when the light hits it just right. 

“Hajime, this is beautiful,” you breathe. 

“You like it?”

“I love it.” You remove the necklace from the box, but before you can fasten it around your neck, he stops you. 

“May I?”

“You are a hopeless romantic,” you grin. 

“Only for you.” His fingers brushing your neck send goosebumps over your skin and he carefully secures the chain at the back. 

“How do I look?” You turn to face him and see his pupils blown wide open, licking his lips and blinking to maintain his restraint. 

“Like you’re mine,” he rasps and he closes the remaining distance between your bodies, letting your back hit the wall and tilting your chin up with two fingers to kiss you. Your fingers comb through his hair and he groans into your mouth when you tug on it experimentally. His hands firmly grip your waist while he kisses you infuriatingly slowly, like he was savoring this private moment without the prying eyes of his teammates. He pulls away to breathe but doesn’t go far, nudging his nose against yours. “The guys didn’t say anything dumb to you, did they?”

“No, but they did let me know how much you talk about me,” you whisper and he rolls his eyes again, your eyelashes brushing his face when he leans in close again. “And how much your dumbass gets pranked.” 

“In my defense–” You cut him off with an uncontrollable fit of laughter, one that he joins into with a tired shake of his head. “You know what? I don’t have a defense. Happy birthday, my love.” He presses a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead. “Every day I think about what I did to deserve someone like you.”

“You existed and I found you,” you say simply. “That’s just how it works and now you’re stuck with me and all my future birthdays.”

“You say that like I’m not ready to grow old with you in any lifetime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[therandomartmaker]

Poison the wine, the steak, or perhaps, the knife.

All the better to stab your enemies with, no?

tumblr’s going to nerf all the details i put in (the scales on the tattoo. The scales on the not-real voldie arms. the steak that’s been approved by 2 different people in looking like a steak. the hand-shaded chain. the choker gemstone. the scales on the snake cufflinks. so so much work. it took 10 fuckin hours to make this. It wasn’t meant to take this long. And it sure as hell wasn’t meant to be nerfed by fuckin tumblr)

taglist; @i-amtransexual @badatgmrt @approximately-74373-bees @littleladcami

[notyour-valentine]

The Head of the Snake ~ Tommy Shelby x wife (Angst)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Tommy returns exhausted from a BUF event in the middle of the night, and all he wants is peace. But he finds anything but

Note: Written for @raincoffeeandfandoms and her 2.5k Celebration. For it I chose night and even tried to put a spin on your "Black and White" theme. I hope you enjoy!

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 1577 words

As soon as he heard the front door slam shut behind him, Tommy pressed the palms of his hands over his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. 

He was home. 

It was over, at least for tonight.  By now all the downstairs fires had died down, and only the lamps on the stairs remained. 

From the corridor came Frances. 

“Didn’t I tell you there was no need to wait up?”, he asked, his voice uncommonly soft.

Even though she had gone against his instructions, Thomas Shelby was beyond glad to see a familiar, friendly face. “It was no trouble, Mr. Shelby.”, she assured him as she slipped the thick tailored coat from his tense shoulders. 

Every inch of his body hurt, and that was saying nothing of his mind, and on nights like these the stairs seemed endless. 

“Mrs Shelby is still up as well, Sir.”, she told him, just as he reached the halfway point, under the portrait of Monaghan Boy. 

Once upon a time, when the world was both smaller and simpler, that horse and it’s success had meant everything to him, and the money they had made with him, his victories, and finally losses, had paved the way for the rise of Shelby Company ltd. 

And the road that led him here. Right here. To tonight. 

Often, he wondered where he had gone wrong. If there had been a split in the road he had not taken, a corner he hadn’t turned, a bridge he hadn’t considered crossing, or if he had crossed one too many, leapt too high, ventured to far. 

Monaghan Boy did not have the answer, and he wouldn’t dare ask Frances the question and so he rallied himself once more and leaned his weight on the banister on the way up. 

Never had he felt so old before. 

When he looked down the corridor he could see the doors to the children’s rooms already shut. 

Of course. They were fast asleep, as they should, and although he felt a burning tightness in his chest that only the sight of his children could ease. 

He needed a reminder what he was doing all this for, not just against, needed to hear the soft sounds of their breaths, feel the smoothness of their cheeks, and the softness of their hair. 

But it was too late for that, he would only ever wake them. 

So he turned the other way and approached his bedchamber. 

To his surprise, Frances hadn’t been wrong. His wife was still up, still waiting for him. 

She was sitting on the windowsill, in her white nightgown and robe that seemed ever paler compared to the pitch black night sky. The only speck of colour, it seemed, was the glow of her cigarette. 

“I’m home.”, he announced, as if she could somehow have missed the arrival of his car on the driveway below, or the sound of the door opening and closing in his wake. 

The only response was the crackling of the cigarette’s paper being burned with another inhale. 

So it would be another one of these nights, Tommy thought bitterly, but he didn’t have the fight in him and so he only began to undress as quickly and efficiently as he could, placing first his jacket, then his vest over the back of his dressing table chair. 

Every single movement, no matter how small, reminded him of the exhaustion he felt body and soul, the kind no sleep - only peace could solve. 

He tore his cufflinks out of his shirt, their clattering on the shiny wood making his head throb so much he barely missed the sound of her voice. 

“We didn’t wait up for you tonight.”

Her voice was soft, calm, without any trace of emotion, only the slight rasp due to the cigarette and the lat ehour. 

“Well I didn’t ask you to.”

Tommy knew he would be late. He was nearly always late. 

“We wouldn’t have done if you did.”, she replied, just as cooly as she had spoken previously. 

Now that caught his attention. 

His arm resting on the back of the chair, he turned to look at her, seeing only a quarter of her face in the reflection of the window. 

It was as if she couldn’t even look at him, as if merely meeting his gaze would stain her. 

“So you really did it?”, she asked, tapping the ash away. 

“By ‘it’ you mean following the plan I agreed on with Churchill, then yes. I did it.”, he spat. 

He never should have told her, never would have told her if he hadn’t hoped that doing so would make her help him. 

He never expected her to turn her back on him and his cause, not after everything, not after Polly, but she had made no attempt to hide it then, nor did it now as she scoffed and shook her head. 

“I remember everyone telling me again and again about how much you are like a horse, but Tommy, you really are a horse.”

“What?”, he asked. 

“You are a horse.”

With that, she snuffed out her cigarette and got up, her open robe flapping behind her from the swiftness of her movement as she grabbed his face between two hands. 

“Like a racehorse with the blinkers on only you put them there yourself.”

Her fingers found his temples, limiting his eyesight to replicate the blinkers. 

“Racing ahead, blindly, stupidly, unable to see the truth of the realisation.”

He moved his head to rid himself of her touch, so warm, so smooth, but right now he could barely stomach her presence. 

“They put the blinkers on so that the horse doesn’t startle and injure itself and others.”, he scoffed, turning his back on her. 

“And why does the horse startle, Tommy?”, she asked calmly. “Because it’s not made to race. It’s forced to.”

He glared at her, his lips parted and his icy blue eyes piercing. 

“No one forces me to do anything.”, he snarled. 

It was too late and he was too tired for this. He just wanted to close his eyes and not think, not hear, not sense. 

“So you’re doing this because you want to?”

Tommy knows she is asking about Mosley. About the BUF and about the event he had attended tonight, where he had introduced the man. 

“I do it because it allows me to get close to him, to gain his trust and gather insight so Churchill can bring them down.”

She snorted once more and shook her head. 

“Take your fuckling blinkers off, Tommy.”,  she snarled. “Take them off and see what you are doing.”

“The right fucking thing for once!”, he spat right back at her. 

“No, you’re not!”

Her voice was dangerously low, and she showed not the slightest sign of folding as Tommy stepped closer to her. 

Of all people, he needed her to understand, to believe him. How many times had he tried to explain it to her and every single time she had refused to believe him. 

Why was she being so fucking difficult?

“Love-”, he tried once more. 

“No!”, she commanded. “No, Tommy. Think, for once about what you’re doing. Not what you or Churchill or anyone are planning to do, or going to do, but what you are actually doing.”

His law muscles tightened as he stared at her, this woman who had loved him fiercely and consistently, even when he had proved himself unworthy of it time and time again. 

She had been with him, had supported and shielded him in her own way, protected him from his family, from his nightmares and on some nights even from himself. 

And when he looked at her with this fierce determination in her eyes, a sharp terrifying fear took hold inside him, but he had no time to either reassure himself or ask, as she continued - relentless, just like the rest of them. 

“You are out there, on a stage with him, with them. You just gave him something money can’t buy. Legitimacy in this city, the city you call yours.”

“It’s all part of-”

“The plan. I know.”, she said, waving it off before he could even begin. “But what if you do manage to bring down Mosley, or even all of the BUF? They will still have thousands of member and sympathisers, and thousands in this city alone, thanks to you.”

Tommy felt his blood run cold. 

“Little boys are running around all over Birmingham, playing Peaky Blinders with caps and knives just like their big hero Tommy Shelby. And now their big hero Tommy Shelby is standing shoulder to shoulder with fascists that tell people to throw rocks at their neighbours for all sorts of reasons. Tell me, Tommy, what will the little boys do? What will their fathers do who are employed by the thousands in your factories and docs and companies?”

He inhaled sharply, but that wasn’t deemed a suitable reply and so she shook her head and turned. 

“I’m sleeping in the nursery tonight.”, she said, reaching for her blanket. 

That made rage bubble up inside him. She was his wife, she was supposed to support him, not stab him in the back. 

“You kill a snake by cutting off it’s head!”, he told her harshly just as she was at the door. 

She turned slowly, glaring at him. 

“And what good will that do if its venom is already spread?"

~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @trixie23

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore @dandelionprints

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Twenty-six

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: fluff, angst, smut, dirty talk, creampie

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

She had lobster thermidor for dinner that night cooked in a creamy brandy sauce, and tarte tatin for dessert. Tom had grilled rabbit, its soft body garnished with forget-me-nots and mushrooms as if it were being buried in a quiet little glade. They went to see The Lesson afterwards, a play by Eugène Ionesco and returned giggling and tipsy at the hotel around midnight.

They visited the Musée d’Orsay the next morning, by which time they had just another day to spare, and the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, and went to Notre Dame a second time against Tom’s protestations. They saw two more famous cafés and three rare bookshops, and in between she bought presents for Sister Silvia and Frederico — an apron in pale blue with white lace trimming and a matching pair of oven mitts for her, and a leather wallet for Fred in which she slipped several French coins and banknotes.

“He’s a numismatist,” she said with a giggle.

“Of course he is…”

“Don’t you have someone to buy presents for too, Tom?”

“Don’t be silly, of course not.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, frowning when he saw the pitying look on her face. He didn’t need to have friends to waste his money on. She was more than enough, though he wasn’t about to say it. “Come on, let’s finish this little shopping spree.”

The extent of their souvenirs was a scarf for her of red and blue silk with an oriental pattern, a book of poetry, and a pot of black ink, and while Tom did not require anything she insisted on getting him something too. It was a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like coiled snakes complete with little carven scales.

“They reminded me of you,” she shrugged, smiling as she waited for his reaction.

“How so?” Tom asked with a cocked brow. In truth, he was fairly impressed.

“Well… I was thinking of your fingers.”

“…Oh?”

“They’re so cold and thin and long, they remind me of some cold-blooded crawling creature.”

He was rendered speechless for a moment. “That’s quite the compliment,” he dryly said.

“Don’t worry, I like your hands very much,” she giggled with a playful nibble of her lip.

And once the night fell over Paris and they settled in after a long day filled with museums and bookstores she slinked atop him, hands brushing up his chest, and gently bent to kiss him. She tasted of red wine and oranges. Such romantic matters had completely slipped his mind, so preoccupied was he with what he was about to do once they returned to Rome, but the longer the kiss lingered the more easily it was for Tom to match it.

Strange, he thought, that he should have forgotten how nice it was. As if she wasn’t the same woman he’d made love to weeks ago… But he’d since come to see her differently. In his more unguarded moments, he thought of her almost like a real person, someone equal to himself. It came naturally then to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, and slowly roll them over until he was on top. She smiled into the kiss. He felt it and it filled him with a measure of pride unlike anything else even if it was such a simple, ordinary thing. Her leg rose slightly, searched for his loins, and Tom betrayed himself with a low moan. He ground himself against her and soon was rendered breathless, his mouth falling aimlessly to her neck. Her skin was soft and warm and fragrant, and so sweet beneath his tongue. Her quick breaths tickled his skin and her hands started tugging on his shirt, clumsily trying to undress him. Tom smiled and did the same, rolling her nightgown up over her thighs, her hips, her stomach, parting from her skin a moment to pull it off of her and cast it far behind.

“Tom,” she whispered, hands reaching out for him.

“Mhm… I’m here.”

He kissed her once more then hurriedly undid his nightshirt. He barely took it off before he crawled back next to her, huddling beneath the thick duvet. The radiator was turned all the way up but it hardly warmed the room. She giggled when his hands touched her, writhing under their cold grasp, but Tom wouldn’t let her go. He pulled her thighs up and around him and settled between them, then dragged his hands up her body from her hips up her ribs and her warm breasts, settling finally around her throat. He didn’t squeeze but held her gently, dipping teasingly low as if for a kiss. His lips hovered over hers and she whimpered, trying to reach him, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Why?” she complained petulantly.

Tom grinned and shook his head. “You’re lovely when you’re desperate, you know that?”

He smiled as his hands tightened teasingly around her neck and then he leaned down to give her a little peck. She groaned in displeasure and Tom couldn’t help but laugh. He enjoyed playing with her more than perhaps anything else they did… Or, almost anything. He kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers for a bit longer this time, and again, and again, coming down to feed on her despair, her need for love, for air, drinking the moans from her mouth and leaving behind only fire. His hands around her neck tightened for a moment and then they released her to suck in deep breaths while they travelled lower.

“Tom,” she whined, “you’re —”

“Shhh…” he hushed her as his large hands cupped her breasts, thumbs playing with her nipples.

“— you’re teasing me…”

“I know,” he grinned. “You enjoy it so much, don’t you? Don’t pout… I know you do.”

She pouted anyway but couldn’t hold back a smile. He laughed and kissed her again as he flicked her nipples with his thumbs, rolling them into stiff peaks, and then with the soft tips of his fingers he plucked them with quick and playful touches. She mewled against his lips, her back arching, body twisting under him, but Tom wouldn’t let her go. He ground his hips against hers, swallowed all her sighs, and played with her hard buds until he was convinced they hurt. Then he released her lips to slide a little down her body and took them in his mouth.

“Aaaahh! Tom, you beast,” she giggled, hands coming down frantically to tug at his dark locks.

He grinned and closed his mouth around her, tongue slipping leisurely around her flesh like honey pouring down. He sucked on one puckered nipple, teeth closing on her skin just slightly in the faint hint of a bite while he held the other tight between his fingers. She dug her nails into his scalp, back arching to push her breast into his warm, slick mouth, and shivered. Tom moved his kisses to the underside of her breast to lick the sweat that pooled there, and kissed and kissed his way around until his lips locked on the other bud. His tongue played across its waxy surface in a slow and noisy languish and then he kissed a path toward the centre of her chest. His lips lingered there, between her breasts where beneath a layer of skin and bone her heart was beating. He felt it on his lips, the rhythm seeping into him, melding with his own. Then he kissed a little higher, higher, reaching her warm neck, her chin, her lips again, and stayed there. Her fingers played with his hair, twirling, curling, scraping gently, then slipping to his nape. He smiled at the slow caresses, purring like a kitten.

Tom wrapped his arms around her, one around her waist to tilt her hips, the other at her back to cradle her, and gently moved his hips. She bit her lip, eyes lidded from his promises of pleasure, and clung so tightly to him her nails were threatening to pierce his skin. He smiled gently down at her, drinking in the sight in the faint darkness while underneath his hardened cock licked a dirty path across her thigh. He brought his lips down low enough to touch hers when he slotted it above her mound, then dragged it nice and slow over her clit.

“Do you like that?” he whispered, his lips pulled into a tense, smug smile. “Hmm? Do you?”

“You know I do,” she whined. “Please, Tom, I need it…”

“Shhh… There, there,” he cooed, leaving little kisses on her cheek. “You’ll get it, don’t worry your little head about that…”

“It’s you who has the little head,” she growled with a needy grinding of her hips. “Now give it to me or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“So mean to me you might not get anything at all…”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she whined.

Tom chuckled and looked fondly down at her sweaty and flushed face. Her suffering was unfailingly sweet, and he stoked it further when he started canting his hips back and forth, rubbing his hot length across her nub, slathering it with their mix of wetness.

“Alright, my darling,” he whispered, letting his breath fan across her skin, “stop being such a brat…”

Tom nibbled at her neck and his hand released her hip, palm already damp with sweat, and soon she felt a hint of flesh rubbing at her hole as he held his cock there. She whispered pleas into his shoulder and dug her nails in deep, her legs tight around him, temptingly pulling him lower. He arched his hips and pressed up into her, and with a stifled moan felt her body open up around him. The breath froze in his lungs and he couldn’t take his eyes away from her shadowed, sweaty, blushing, messy face. Her tight hole was pressed into a suckling kiss around his tip, resistant at first, then throbbing, pulsing, and finally relaxed… He pressed again and sunk in deeper, her channel welcoming, warm and dripping, sucking him inside. Her breath shivered wonderfully and she clung to him, pulling him closer by the waist while Tom still held his breath. He closed his eyes, stilled his hips, and braced his arms beside her, dizzy with the sense of being so intensely wanted.

“Tom,” she whispered, one hand going up to brush through his hair, “P-please, move… I need you so much…”

He nodded and sighed and it was as if his heart started beating again. He pressed in harder, angling his hips and canting gently forward, in and in and in to the intoxicating sound of her moans. His hands cupped her bare torso, elbows dug into the bed as he plugged her with his cock.

Tom swallowed the vulnerable sound that bubbled up inside him, his head falling sapless and heavy to nuzzle at her throat. She was everywhere around him now. Her soft body swallowed up his cock, her plush folds kissed his sac, her legs and arms held him to her and her blood flowed close and hot beneath his lips. His eyes opened, seeing nothing in the cradle of her throat and her wild hair, but he let himself drink in the feeling, that dizzying need for her.

She kissed his cheek, her hips arching encouragingly. “So good… my Tom,” she smiled. “Make me feel so full… I love it… I love you…”

He bit her neck and groaned, his heart and mind aflutter, not knowing how else to react to the maddening things she said. His thrusts turned harder, faster, punishing her almost, and beneath the heavy duvet, he could hear the wet slapping of his sac against her folds. She giggled at the feeling of his teeth and dragged her nails across his skin, her mirth interrupted by gasps with every hard shove of his cock. It almost seemed to him like she didn’t take this seriously at all…

“Turn around,” he growled all of a sudden and grabbed her by the throat.

She barely had time to react when Tom lifted himself from her body and turned and twisted her until she was lying on her front.

“Aaah! W-why?”

“On your knees. You know that’s how you want it.”

The duvet fell away in the motion to cover just their legs but neither she nor Tom could care. The midnight coolth no longer bothered them. Her warm body was covered by his, manoeuvred by his hurried movements to bend her knees beneath her, bow her back, and pin her arms above her head. She cried out when Tom entered her again, his cock still wet with her and hard and reaching further than he had before. While one hand kept her wrists fixed to the pillow the other snaked down to hold her and cup her tummy.

“Oh fuck,” Tom sighed, his forehead resting in the sweaty crook of her neck, “I can feel myself inside you… right here,” he said with a gentle pressure of his fingers that made her keen and moan.

His movement turned slow and languid as he kept the pressure on her womb. She could feel him too and so much more intimately than before. His breath warmed her nape, his fingers tangled among hers, and he covered her whole body. But then he started moving faster, almost angry, taking her with a hunger she’d never seen from him before. She whimpered into the pillow, half pleasure and pain, while Tom held her down and took her. His hand moved up from her stomach up to cup her breast, his fingers catching the hard nipple and squeezing it as if it could yield milk. The snapping of his hips jolted her whole body forward, made her entrance swollen hot from the abuse, and across her back, their sweat mixed was together to flow in little rivulets. Her legs shifted on the bed and her hips squirmed, and it wasn’t even clear to him if she was trying to move away from him or draw him closer.

“Aaaaahhh… Tom, that’s… please… more…”

Well, that answered it.

“What is it?” he whispered in her ear, a strained smile in his voice. “What do you want?”

“My… my…” She bit into her arm, too shy to speak. Tom laid fast kisses on her jaw, coaxing her to say it. “My… clit…” she muttered with a heated flush that billowed across her face.

“Mmm… What about it?” he grinned, slowing his hips to hear her better.

“T-touch it…? Please?”

He chuckled, his voice already a bit tired. He brought his fingers low enough to touch her but withdrew and started tracing soothing circles on her mound that strayed toward her folds.

“Toooom!” she whined. “Not like that!”

“Then how?” he asked with a smirk.

“Y-you know how…”

“Do I indeed?” he teased as his body settled over hers, pressing her down into the bed and his teeth nipping at her ear. “You want this little button touched? You like it when I play with it, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” she muttered, her breath suspended with hope.

“Are you going to cum if I touch it?”

“Y-yes,” she whispered in the pillows, her voice warbling with excitement. “I think I will anyway, but…”

“But you want it.”

“I do…”

“Greedy… A greedy girl, with a greedy… sweet… little… clit…”

She inhaled sharply when he finally touched her. His finger hovered over the tip of her clit so faintly she could barely feel it but she could. He was as deep inside her as he could reach, his cock plugging her up, but she somehow pressed herself further onto him just to feel him touch her in the way she wanted.

“Oh, not so little anymore,” Tom chuckled, his other hand wrapping around her neck to pull her face out of the pillow, making sure she heard him. His finger moved in gentle circles around and around her nub. “It’s gotten so swollen… So full… You like that?”

She nodded languidly, her hair already a tangled mess with sweat and tears matting its edges. Tom started thrusting once again, going from a slow canting of the hips to a hard pounding.

“Like that?” he asked, his voice lower, more exerted, and happy.

“Yes,” she sighed, “yes, yes, yes…”

He let go of her neck to grip the headboard and his back bent as he strained to take her harder. She lay prone and opened up, her body sapless and supine and completely under his control. He pulled wetness out of her in heavy dollops and dirtied her soft thighs, and around him, he could feel her twitching, little hole closing up against his hungry battering.

“Tom!” she cried, turning her head to rest her cheek against the pillow. “P-please, I… I’m almost…”

“That’s it, good girl,” he whispered as he flicked her clit a little faster. He rested his forehead against her back to look down at the both of them, at his body forcing itself into hers. “Cum for me… You promised you would.”

She whined plaintively and trembled underneath his body, her channel clinging hotly to his cock, and her thick drops of desire licked a slow path down his thigh. Tom thrust deeper and held there, swallowing back the primitive urge to call her sweet names and coax her, to coo in her ear like a lover.

“Relax for me,” he whispered, “make a mess, you know you want to… Isn’t that right? When I touch you like this, isn’t that what you want to do?”

His fingers strummed her clit and slathered it with her own juices, straying now and then to clutch his sac and keep control a little longer. She whined and squirmed beneath him, her body trying to twist but having no space to. He could taste her sweat, her sighs in the cold air, her desperation. When she started begging him again Tom chuckled and scraped across her clit with his nail, just enough to make her gasp and jump.

“Please, Tom!”

“Please what?”

“I… I need you…”

“I know you do,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “Cum for me… Let me feel you do it…”

Her moans grew muffled again as she bit into her arm at his sweet encouragement. Tom stayed still inside her, his hips flush with her ass, his full sac pressed against her lips, and as he filled her he kept circling her clit, flicking it and teasing it until she shattered. A high and fragile sound came out of her, pleasured, pleading, and exhausted. Her body tensed beneath him, around him, and he almost came as well at the feeling of her channel sucking on his cock. He kept up working on her nub, rubbing it to overstimulation until she could take no more.

“S-stop!” she gasped.

“Not yet.”

“Tom, please…”

“You can take a bit more,” he whispered, “can’t you? I know you can… You’re a good girl, I know you can…”

A full shiver ran down her body at the pet name and she buried her face deeper in the pillow as if to hide from him. Tom let her catch her breath, his lips leaving a trace of little kisses down her spine, but then he started thrusting into her again with slow deep movements, growing faster, more frantic, slapping loud and wet against her folds. His fingers left her clit and went a little lower, down to where she was all stretched around him. Her back arched sharply and she raised her head to gasp when she felt him tease that taut, sticky, feverish hole that was forced wide around him.

He felt himself getting closer, his loins aflame, his heart quite frantic, and the urge to call her sweet things grew within his mind. He silenced his lips with a dull kiss against the crown of her head while he pumped himself inside her, knees slipping clumsily against the bed. His tip brushed against her cervix with every thrust and with relentless greed, he pressed against her entrance until he could slip his finger in beside his cock. He didn’t slow when she began to beg that it was too much, nor when her hand reached back to drag against his ass and scratch him. He let her hug the pillow to her chest, comforting herself, while he brought himself over the edge with her.

“Tom,” she cried out, “I’m… it’s… ah!”

“Yeah, good girl,” he praised her, “show me again. You’re going to cum again for me, aren’t you?”

She said nothing but from her plaintive moan and the way her legs began to shake, he knew it.

“Cum with me,” said Tom, his whispers hot in her ear. “I love what you do with that sweet little… m-mouth when — fuck!”

It felt as if he was out of his body, out of his mind, above her in a way that was more than physical. His cock kicked and throbbed inside her, hugged tightly by her flesh, and his sac contracted such that his breath ran out of him. He pressed his finger against that spongy spot he knew she loved and she cried out for him just as he poured himself inside her. His hand tightened around her neck while hers clung to the pillow. His heavy seed pooled at her cervix and from there started seeping out again, slowly, down his length to drip out of her hole. She screamed in a lovely, lustful way, and Tom out of pure instinct held her thin neck tighter — not squeezing, not to silence her, but to feel her shouts of pleasure melded with his name against his skin, running up his blood, falling to his heart.

“My little darling,” he rumbled, “sweet and warm and mine, mine, mine… My good girl… my favourite…”

It broke a whole insipid part of him to call her such sweet names, pulled something out of him that wasn’t there. Wasn’t supposed to be there. Beneath him he felt her softly melting, relaxing for perhaps the first time in an hour. She stretched her limbs much like a sated cat and rested her head sideways, her eyes closed and a smile growing on her lips. Tom’s breath rushed out of him, his muscles singing, sighing with relief. He started pulling himself out of her, a slow and sticky drag, but then she whined.

“No,” she muttered, reaching behind again to grip him. “Stay inside of me…”

“Naughty,” he chuckled. “What am I to do with you?”

But he did exactly as she wanted. He eased himself onto his side and moved her with him, taking care to leave his softening member in her clenching core. She purred happily and nuzzled back, her hips shifting until she found a comfortable position, then pulled onto the duvet to tuck them in again. Tom helped her and soon they were snuggled and warm, her back stuck to his chest, his leg laying lazily above her own, and his hands at her waist.

“Tired?” he whispered.

“Mhm…”

“Sleepy?”

“Mhm…”

He chuckled, feeling exhaustion catching up with him as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worked up such a sweat.

“I’m sorry if I was mean to you.”

“You were,” she whispered. “You snake… You knew what you were doing.”

“Is that so? And what was that?”

“You know. With your fingers.”

“Yes?”

“You know what I… what I like…”

Tom smiled as he petted her tummy and softly whispered soothing spells. She curled her knees up, sighing with contentment, and slowly her breathing evened. He could tell she was falling asleep. His heart by then was still beating quite quickly, his body naked and murky with sweat, thighs filthy, hands filled with her, but his mind was oddly at peace. He fell asleep soon after her and held her through their dreams.

[darklordazalin]

Trinkets Chart for Darkon

I enjoy making trinket charts for DnD. I made this d100 one for my DnD game that's set entirely in Darkon, which I've called The Iron Crown. There's a lot of easter eggs in here, but thought this could be a fun thing to share on a Friday morning while I ignore my actual job.

01-02

A star chart contained within the face of an ornate compass. A question mark is placed where the moon should be.

03-04

A frail bit of parchment containing a half-created new and highly complex summoning spell.

05-06

A flute carved from the charred remains of a human tibia.

07-08

A cane topped with a silver owl that is cold to the touch.

09-10

A silver charm bracelet that contains the following charms: an ornate eye surrounded by flames, a crown set with a single amber gemstone, a skull with small garnets in its eye sockets, and a closed book.

11-12

A vial of cloudy red blood labeled “LvZ”.

13-14

A wooden box engraved with the letter “S” containing a shimmering black, outlandish traveling cloak; brimmed hat, great cloak, and silvery skull-like mask.

15-16

An ebony brooch in the shape of a dragon that does not reflect light.

17-18

A hand mirror that sometimes reflects the translucent image of a young man instead of your own image.

19-20

A mummified hand holding a black candle that cannot be lit.

21-22

A cloak that leaves tendrils of mists in your wake.

23-24

A ring in the shape of a human skull. The skull opens to reveal a coil of coppery reddish hair.

25-26

A set of dice that always roll snake eyes.

27-28

A leather hand cuff engraved with the symbols associated with each school of magic. When someone wearing it casts a spell, the associated symbol glows.  

29-30

A ticket for free admission to The Carnival

31-32

A blanket in which silently screaming faces appear under the light of the moon.

33-34

A belt that changes color and size to match any outfit.

35-36

A finger puppet of a piebald raven.

37-38

A scabbard that always keeps the blade within sharp and clean.

39-40

A plush of a skeleton wearing a crown with the label “Is No Fun, is No Blinsky!” on it.

41-42

An hour glass containing black sand that quickens the closer one is to their own death.

43-44

A green gemstone containing the spirit of an unknown entity.

45-46

Incomplete sheet music for the song ‘The King of the Dead’ written by Andres Duvall

47-48

A tarnished wedding band with the words “Life Eternal” carved on the inner band.

49-50

Long, thin, curved blade with a handle carved from a stag’s antler that inspires its owner to take up the craft of wood carving.

51-52

A silver pendant of a raven that you are loathed to part with.

53-54

An invitation to Neverwere Manor signed by Baron Eversong.

55-56

A porcelain doll with eyes that seem to follow you wherever you turn.

57-58

A bell carved from bone that makes a sound only spirits of unrest can hear.

59-60

A monocle that, when viewed through, shows every humanoid in the form of a hybrid lycanthrope.

61-62

A burial shroud that never frays.

63-64

A tea kettle that singles a funeral dirge when the water within boils.

65-66

A blood red candle that produces a black flame.

67-68

Eye glasses that, when worn, change one’s eye color to red.

69-70

A rose made of obsidian that cannot break.

71-72

A music box that, when open, plays an eerie melody as a miniature ballerina wearing a blood-stained tutu dances.

73-74

An amulet that absorbs blood.

75-76

The fingerbone of an unconsecrated skeleton.

77-78

Strange smelling perfume from Borca contained in a glass bottle in the shape of an apple.

79-80

A lantern containing floating dim, phosphorescent lights that constantly change from green to blue to purple.

81-82

A book entitled “An Herbalists Guide to the Shadow Rift” that contains alien-like drawings of bizarre plants and plant monsters.

83-84

A pair of cufflinks shaped like skulls that glow purple during a thunderstorm.

85-86

A magnifying glass that shows the user ghostly footprints on any surface they examine.

87-88

A miniature stone dragon egg engulfed in shadowy tendrils.

89-90

A quill pen that contains red ink that refills whenever someone writes with it.

91-92

A cloak clasp in the shape of a moon that changes to match the moon’s current phase.

93-94

A book entitled “Van Richten’s Guide to the Hunter” which contains a ‘how to’ guide for monsters dealing with hunters written in a comedic and often snarky voice.

95-96

A hood that, when worn, gives one a skeletal-like appearance.

97-98

A green leather pouch containing soil from an unmarked grave.

99-100

A pendant in the shape of a golden dragon skull that occasionally speaks into your mind in an unknown tongue.

[telomeke]

I was tagged by @colourme-feral at this post here, @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle at this post here, and @wen-kexing-apologist at this post here. Thanks for tagging me, guys! 🥰

My schedule is usually too packed with work these days for me to spend much time on Tumblr, but I have a window of time right now and I'm definitely doing this one, especially because it was so much fun reading yours. 😍

So–

coffee or tea – COFFEE. I am an absolute addict; two or three cups at breakfast, one at lunch, a couple more in the afternoon. But will have a cup of tea every morning as well because I heard it's good for you? | early bird or night owl – BOTH. Love starting my day when there's no one about, but my natural body clock keeps me up later and later. So some days I'm up at six, others I'm off to bed at 3AM. Is it any wonder I look tired all the time? 😂 | chocolate or vanilla – BOTH. Vanilla as a flavoring for most things (LOVE vanilla ice-cream and vanilla cake) but I'm also a chocolate FIEND and can chow down pounds of it at a time. So if I'm having chocolate I want a full-on, unadulterated, deep, dark, decadent chocolate experience. Not dulled and diluted in cake or cream form. I will make an exception for the fudgiest of brownies though. | spring or fall – FALL. Love the colors, the whiff of smoke in the air sometimes, the chance of some late sunshine that missed the boat for summer, and the chill ever-deepening in the air. It's rarely sodden the way spring can sometimes be, and I hate a wet spring with a late-winter thaw.

silver or gold – BOTH. Silver to wear, gold to buy. | pop or alternative – POP. I love a catchy hook, and some indie music can be too tuneless for me. | freckles or dimples – BOTH. Freckles (especially on red-heads) are cute, but then when I saw Fluke Jeeratch (formerly Pongsakorn) smile… well! 👀😍 | snakes or sharks – SNAKES. They're beautiful, but there's also danger humming below the surface and that just adds to the allure. As for sharks, well, I liked eating them – and not just the fins in soup – but it's not politically or environmentally correct (I've been told) so I don't anymore.

mountains or fields – MOUNTAINS. I've had a few wonderful mountain holidays. Love the cool, crisp air. | thunder or lightning – THUNDER. There's something sexy about that crack and rumble. Lightning is just scary. | egyptian mythology or greek mythology – GREEK. Greek gods and goddesses, so beautiful and always nude. LOL | ivory or scarlet – SCARLET. Some days my favorite color is a bold, bright red (not every day, though).

flute or lyre – FLUTE. Something about the brightness of the notes makes me synaesthetically see the sunlight dancing on a clear stream as it runs over polished stones. Love it whenever I get cross-sensory experiences. | opal or diamond – DIAMOND. They're this boy's best friend, LOL, because I love a bit of sparkle (though I don't dress with bling, except for my cufflinks). | butterflies or honeybees – BUTTERFLIES. They're just so pretty. | macarons or éclairs – MACARONS. Pierre Hermé my beloved! (I have a sweet tooth, can you tell? 🤣) Plus macarons are one of the traditional pastries that are naturally gluten-free. I'm partial to lychee rose ones, and rich chocolate ones (if they get the fudginess right). But vanilla is too mild for this. Another one for the vanilla v. chocolate duel!

typewritten or handwritten – HANDWRITTEN. I think handwriting does reveal personality and how your mind works, to an extent. So I love not just reading it, but also reading into it. Then again, I do love the clack-clack of a manual typewriter though. | secret garden or secret library – LIBRARY. A secret garden would be cool to discover and experience, but beyond that – the bugs would bother me too much to want to spend much time in there. Whereas I could disappear for days in a library. | rooftop or balcony – BALCONY. But not for the reasons you might think. Balconies are rarely comfortable unless the weather's good and you have a nice view. But they help shade your interior space and keep it cool when the weather's too hot. Most rooftops are service spaces so they don't actually look very good, with a fair bit of grime. (Have you SEEN the real rooftop of Tinidee? No wonder BBS filmed at Chana City Residence instead.) Plus flat roofs will eventually leak, which is a huge hassle to repair. | spicy or mild – SPICY. Prik kee noo my beloved! Also cili padi/cili api/siling labuyo. It's my way of remembering my late mom, who loved her chillis packing the most searing heat.

opera or ballet – um, BALLET? I've been moved to tears by dance before. But opera just sounds like loud wailing to me, so I've never been for a performance. I suspect I may have a Pretty Woman moment of my own when I do though, since there are some arias I like. | london or paris – PARIS! J'ai deux amours – mon pays et Paris… (Joséphine Baker is a legend for a reason.) London is a cool city though, but for sheer range of experience (from the gutter to the stars) it's still Paris by a whisker. | vincent van gogh or claude monet – MONET. I love the Impressionists, and a visit to Monet's house and garden was the highlight of my trip to Normandy. That and the cider. 🤣 | denim or leather – DENIM. Leather's uncomfortable to wear, unless it's for shoes.

potions or spells – SPELLS. I think I prefer my magic more action-packed, in the moment and with immediate results. | ocean or desert – OCEAN. I'm a Waterboyy at heart, and have many joyful memories of holidays by the sea as a kid. | mermaids or sirens – MERMAIDS, for the same reason as previous. Plus sirens are half-bird, and I am slightly ornithophobic when I get up close to any avian. | masquerade ball or cocktail party – MASQUERADE. I love fancy dress and costume parties. And I find the small talk at cocktail parties both daunting and boring.

Onward tagging:

@visualtaehyun @ruthsic @delesaria-blog @solitaryandwandering @twig-tea

@suni-sun @nihilisticcondensedmilk @neuroticbookworm @lovelyghostv @grapejuicegay

@airenyah @pandasmagorica @waitmyturtles @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas @hyp-no-tic

@writerwithoutsound @hughungrybear @dreamenormous @sparklyeyedhimbo @callipigio

@pickletrip @kinyeee @breezy-bird @dribs-and-drabbles @dimplesandfierceeyes

@recentadultburnout @blmpff @bengiyo @lamonnaie @kattahj

@zimmbzon

No pressure if you don't want to play. And if I didn't tag you but you do want to play, please do so! Please tag me so I can read your responses as well!

Here's a clean version if you're going to play: 😍

coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or éclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party

‌

[megamanrecut]

And here's the consolidated list (mostly?) All from Diamond in the Rough, character notes below cut (not in same order as pics)

Considered a few different systems for assigning gems (gemstone family, value, etc.) but ultimately just went with color/relative familiarity of gem. There’s so many cool gems out there~ (I was trying to not be too repetitive with types/use more common ones though Quartz has a million interesting varieties!)

Mega Man, Blue Sapphire Sphere I wavered a lot on his ‘trinket’, Sapphire seemed obvious (especially with Proto being a ruby, both are corundum gemstones) but also considered blue diamond, alexandrite (blue/purple color shift), and aquamarine. For the jewelry, was also considering an atomic model (for chemistry?), a screwdriver, and slightly regretting not considering circlet

Roll, Amethyst Earring: primarily always wanted amethyst, but also considered heliodor, padparadscha sapphire (but it wasn’t quite the right color? and perhaps too obscure), tanzanite, morganite, zoisite, kunsite, iolite, (purple gems etc.) For shape, was considering spikes/fangs though that’s also Treble and Punk’s lol

Bass, Emerald Snake Arm Cuff: loosely based on a real arm cuff I saw in a book. Also considered black diamond, green diamond (he’s the titular ‘diamond in the rough’), and black opal

Proto Man, Ruby Aviator Badge: I went with ruby in the end, which seemed most obvious choice, but also considered red diamond and bixbite (red beryl)

Elec Man, Black Opal Ring: Also considered chatoyant Sapphire, Alexandrite (??? color shift?), chrysoberyl, angelite/anhydrite, and even hawkeye quartz (loosely inspired by a real hawkeye ‘lightning’ ring, before that I was thinking cufflinks, but seemed weird for him to become either a pair of gems, or even a single cufflink lol)

Jewel Man, Colorless Beryl (Goshenite) Monocle - also considered rock crystal, diamond, and Padparadscha sapphire. Apparently both beryl and rock crystal were historically used for eyeglasses. Monocle is a reference to gentleman thief archtypes, also they are just fancy. (Also I realized while drawing this that having a plique a jour monocle chain is probably super impractical, oh well lol)

Top Man, Imperial Topaz  Pendant in a Jeweled Egg - also considered alexandrite and spinel (for the pun, heh) and spessertite

Kalinka/Mega Girl, Rose Quartz Blossom Barrette: Pink :) though I considered other lesser known (but more valuable) pink gems

Quint, Alexandrite Wristwatch: Quint is a time traveler (of sorts), also considered model armillary sphere/astrolabe, a screwdriver, and jade or malachite or nanocrystal

Wily, Agate Cameo Belt Buckle: Loosely inspired by his skull belt in some of his game art, also considered amythist

Dr. Light, Alabaster bead on a bookmark tassel:  Dr. Light likes books! Was also considering rock crystal and goshenite

Ring Man, Zircon Hoop Bracelet: Reference to both his namesake and his carney background. Was also considering class ring (before assigning the ring to Elec Man) and a circlet. ‘Zircon’ just sounds circusy, must be the Z

Magnet Man, Garnet Horseshoe Amulet: garnets are apparently magnetic, also considered fridge magnet

Cut Man, Citrine Paperknife: for obvious reasons. I also considered topaz for the gem

Guts Man, Tourmaline Paperweight: funny/fitting pairing with the paper knife, the shape is in reference to the boulder he holds in game art (for a brief week, was a rock crystal until I realized those are clear lol smokey quartz would have made more sense)

Punk, Spinel Motorcycle Chain: ‘Spinel’ may be a derivative from Latin ’spina’ which means thorn

Rush, Labradorite Bone Collar Tag: Went for the pun!

Treble, Howlite Fang: and ditto for Treble

Others that weren’t in chapter (this list has no significance what-so-ever, I brainstormed a list of gems but also ‘trinkets’ and my brain just started associating lol)

Beat, Aquamarine Aigrette: Beat actually avoided transformation, but that’s what he would have been

Gyro Man: Mood Ring

Dr. Cossack: Selenite something or other

Dark Man: D20

Time Man: a pocket watch

Enker: Chess piece

Metal Man: A knife

Shadow Man: Also a knife, maybe jade

Yamato Man: Natsuke

Burner Man: Match Box

Fake Man: phenakite, derived from greek word for deceiver

Magic Man: Card Case

Needle Man: Rutilated quartz (it has needle-like inclusions)

Pharaoh Man: Scarab collar pin/cloak clasp

Star Man: Star Saphire?

And that's it from the notes, haha.

[sparkarrestor]

Tied Up!

Written By: SparkArrester

With thanks to @lswro2-222 and @kujakisser for some good ol' inspiration.

Toad the Brake-van is a well known sight along the Little Western. He's probably the best at keeping the trucks in line. Despite this, he’s seen by most non-railway folk as “Just another wagon”, though he doesn’t mind one bit. 

 One day, however, Donald clanked into the Top Station of the Little Western, where he saw the most peculiar sight!

“Lor Sakes Laddie!” He exclaimed.

Toad was sitting in a siding, wearing, under his chin, a sleek black bowtie!

“Hello Mista Donald! How do you like my new look?”

“It looks great on ye! But where on earth did ye find it? In that size nonetheless?”

Just then, Oliver pulled up with some empty wagons.

“The Fat Controller sourced some!” He answered, “Great Western originals too! We ‘ave a whole box of these things in the shed!”

“Great Western Originals?”

“Yes Mister Donald! We used to have these back on the Great Western. Coal Trucks and Goods Vans were expected to be dirty, but everything else, including us Brake-Vans, had to look as put together and high class as possible! This was management's way of making us look the part!”

“Then why didn’t ye have one when ye first came ‘ere?”

Toad sighed, “When BR took over, they got rid of them. They said it was an unneeded expense…”

“Aye, that’s just like yon snakes, draining the soul oot the railways. Well, I’m glad tah see ye got yours back. Really fits ye!”

Douglas wasn’t the only one who thought so! The summer season brought many tourists and holidaymakers to the railway, and they all took notice! Even passengers who usually took no notice of Toad raised their heads as he passed by. Toad had many different bow-ties in many different colors, and each day he wore a different one. The tourists certainly ate it up, and fellow engines complimented Toad on them. Well, all but one…

“Gawd he looks adorable!” Exclaimed a tourist in a thick accent as Toad passed by the Big Station, trailing after Douglas and his ballast hoppers.

“I say!” grunted Gordon, “Little Toad is making quite the impression!”

“I can see that…” growled James, trying and failing to sound calm.

“You aren’t jealous, are you, James?”

“Me, jealous of a filthy brake-van? Pah!”

And without another word, he snorted off.

But he was jealous, and, failing to hide it, he made his grievances known at the sheds that night.

“I take great pains in keeping my resplendent paintwork spotless!” He proclaimed, ignoring the dirty looks he got from the cleaners, “But no, they all take to some filthy brake-van with second rate accessories! Honestly, the nerve!”

“The nerve indeed…” Yawned Emily, “Now quiet you, I’ve got an early train tomorrow…”

And that was that.

James was still making a fuss the next morning.

“They want accessories?”, he ranted, “I’ll show them accessories! I’ll accessorize so much they can’t take their eyes off me!”

But by doing that, he took his eyes off of one very important thing: watching where he was going.

“Horrors!” He cried, as he slammed into a goods van. It’s contents flew out and landed all over James. As he opened his eyes, he gaped. He had crashed into a van full of clothing. Blazers, Jackets, Dress pants, and cufflinks covered him from chimney to wheels. But that wasn’t all! Tied around his lamp irons were bow-ties of every shape and color. James was about to lose it when laughter erupted on his left. He had crashed next to the station, and the passengers (and engines too!) all took proper notice of him now!

“Well!”, said Toad, who heard on the grapevine about James’ behavior, “Now that’s what you call accessorizing!”

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Moxxie Redesign🎵🐊

Made my own version of Moxxie for Fun!🎶

I like Moxxies design! It’s very cute and gives off music conductor/thespian vibes well with the bow tie and coattails🎵🎶🎭

Biggest change I did was make him a Greed/Wrath type like Striker, but instead of being snake based, he’s a crocodile 🐊(My Crim’s def a croc!!!). Gave him a snout, claws, teeth, spikes, gave him more brownish yellow skin tones, colored his hair and gave him a thicker tail and legs. Didn’t add the eye rings, just slit pupils, but I can see them form when he’s angry or focusing on something, similar to how Moxxies sclera turns red when angry or alarmed.

Fun fact Crocodiles r asscociated with things like destruction, deceit and greed, fitting for his family origins on his dads side and Crocodiles, among other exotic animals are associated with the mob. But they can also mean good things such as protection, strength and adaptability. They can also mean things like ambiguity & duality, showing how Moxxie struggles with his identity and where he lies but can still be different from his father! It’s all up to him on the type of imp he wants to be.

Kept the music conductor vibe and added more such as leg spats, a vest and cute music note cufflinks🎶(Perhaps a gift from Millie) but also allude to slight Godfather vibes with the suit and red pin to allude a rose🌹. Show his origins being in organized crime with how sharp and well dressed he is. @a-sterling-rose pointed this out and how this connects him well with Blitz who also tries to move on from his past but can’t go cold turkey from the aesthetic fully.

Made his suit more gray to give off how he’s the more morally conflicted of I.M.P, trying to be more moral. Also went for more light goldish yellow to give off his sweet but timid nature, plus to give off Greed origins(eye for gold 🏆🌟👑).

Made his hair a bit more wavy to give off his mom’s more. Also colored it more, having his father’s genes.

Added more freckles along his snout.

Curved his nostrils to give off a slight devil horns 👿, to push him being Hellborn.

Gave him a pin for his association with I.M.P. Ngl Lovesart23 pin def stuck in my head for this, just fits for him very well.

Went with smaller horns, pointed them to give off music notes 🎶

Made him a bit more on the chubbier side.

I imagine he’s a bit taller than Millie and atleast around Blitz height more but still smaller than Loona.

Added a ring periced into his tail to give off a wedding ring 💍 . Headcanons, some imps pierce their rings on their tails.

What do u think? How would u redesign Moxxie? I’d love to know💖

Also made Millie, Loona & Stella🐂🐺🦢

[softly-potter]

Love

Summary: Newly engaged, Astoria tries vocalizing her feelings to Draco.

Word Count: 931

Pairing: Astoria X Draco

Warnings: illness

A/N: This was inspired by ‘Love’ by Lana del Rey

-

Astoria debates on holding her tongue.

The sun is streaming in through the large window of Dracos flat, basking her in a low warmth that eases her aches. Beside her, Draco has her feet propped on his knee, one large hand rubbing the arch of her foot, the other holding a book. He’s reading to her, his low voice the only sound echoing in the entire apartment, but it doesn’t sound loud. It's comforting, the way his voice thrums against her ears.

Shirt finely pressed and cufflinks matching, he looked ready for a day out, which was originally their plan. Ever since their engagement they had been overdoing it in the shopping department, spending gross amounts of money on anything they so pleased. Astoria thought it was overkill. Draco thought she deserved it.

Their shopping plans had been dashed by a splintering headache. She tried feigning strength, but eventually the pulsating became too much to bear, and she had to lie down. Draco didn’t mind, he always took her alignments in stride, hating that he couldn’t prevent it but helping her through them all the same.

Pausing, Draco licked the tip of his finger, before flipping a page, his other hand squeezing her heel gently. His grey eyes flick up to hers, and he gives her a shy smile before refocusing on the book.

Sitting up, Astoria pulls her feet from his knee instead curling into his side. She cups his cheek, smiling when he asks what she’s doing, and going silent when she kisses him. He grins into her, kissing her back carefully, one arm winding around her shoulders as she sinks into his embrace.

When she pulls back, that's when she lets it slip.

“Draco,” she murmurs, her lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. “I love you.”

He stiffens, but she pays it no mind, instead running her fingers on his chest soothingly. “I know you might not feel the same, we’ve been together such a short while. But you are so good to me, treat me like I'm…normal. And I think I've fallen for you.”

Draco lifts his hand to her face, fingers soft against her jaw. “Why would I not feel the same, my love?”

Astoria tries not to blush, dips her head so that her forehead is against his chin. “Because I’m sick.”

She feels him inhale, closing the book softly in his hand before placing it on the side table. He shifts, moving them so that she’s forced to look at him.

“Astoria Greengrass,” he says, hands light on her shoulders. “Our coming together may not have been in our control, but since being with you I’m proud to say you’ve changed me for the better. You are kind, selfless, ever so thoughtful. You haven’t a cruel bone in your body. And for all those things and more I love you. I have for a while now.”

She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. Her arms snake around his neck and she hugs him, laughing softly as he pulls her into his lap. Her fingers dance at the nap of his neck as his arms curl around her frame, holding her to him in a tight embrace.

Taking a breath, Astoria says the next part to her confession, the part that scars her most. “Will it be enough?”

Draco pulls back, gives her a ponderous look.

“I just mean,” she inhales slowly. “Will it be enough to be young and in love? Because I think…I think that's all I have in me.”

Her chest fractures at the sad expression on his face, but she continues because he has to know doesn’t he? She probably won’t make it to old age. She’ll be lucky to make it in the next five years.

“I don’t want to waste your time, Draco.” She whispers. “To be young and in love with you is probably the greatest joy I will have in this life.”

Leaning forward, Draco touches his forehead to hers, eyes fluttering. “I know. I know time is limited. But I’ll spend as much of it as I can with you.”

Astoria blinks away her tears, nodding. Draco reaches for her face, his mouth delicate but insistent on her own. He tests like tea and elderberry.

She pulls him in, kissing him long and hard, keeping him tucked close, the sunshine through the window casting a warm glow upon the two of them, murmuring words of endearment against one another. When they pull away, they’re both panting, like there wasn’t enough air for the both of them, Dracos hands clutching at her like she might disappear at any moment.

Astoria leans her face against the column of his throat, something twisting in her chest, love pouring out of her, spreading into the air. “Promise me something Draco?”

He nods, leaning into the couch and pulling her with him, keeping her flush to his chest. “Anything”

“When the time comes, find someone new.”

He freezes against her, hands gripping harder but she continues, even though it hurts her to say. “Don’t stop loving just because I'll be gone.”

“Astoria-“

“Promise me.” She cuts in, afraid she’ll lose her nerve. He’s silent for a moment, regaining some of his composure, and his fingers run up and down the length of her arm.

His tone is sad, but he presses a kiss to her hair as he mummers, “I promise.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Astoria holds her fiancé to her, thankful to experience a love like this, even for such a short time.

[thoughtsaboutsnape]

Professor snape is the best dress professor in hogwarts he doesn't care about gendered clothing or gendered roles. the professor likes the style of historybounding colors in darker rich tones it's always fashion week in professor snape class

One of the things Severus learned from Lucius Malfoy was the art of fashion.

His wardrobe was a thing of beauty and he was always immaculately turned out.

For official events, like the Sorting he would wear Slytherin colours. His robes would be a beautiful dark green with a subtle silver trim and if you looked close enough, you'd see little snakes at the collar and cuffs.

For class, he'd go for the more dressed down look, a button-up shirt, waistcoat and trousers. Although seemingly simple, the shirt was always of the highest thread count.

His waistcoat changed often, a favourite of his classes was the dark pink with tiny little flamingos embodied on it.

His accessories were always perfect as well. From his Slytherin cufflinks to the charm on the pocket wait chain.

His shoes were of the finest leather, soft and shined to perfection (he didn't trust the House Elves with this task).

[gritsandbrits]

I have a lot of issues with Lulu's canon hat so to make it less cluttered I swapped the crown and snakes for flowers. Like those fancy hats old ladies wear at church.

I made a flower out of light pink lace and attached a pearl to it. I made a separate flower out of black lace. I glued the black flower to the hat and attached the pink flower on top.

I made the bow out of the same lace. For the brooch i formed a small sphere and painted in yellow-green, then after it dried i applied two coats of gold shimmer polish.

I painted light pink and darker pink on the ribbon to give it a textured look and use nail polish to make the buttons. I painted cufflinks on the sleeves too.

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Red Handed - Nick Fowler x OC

warnings: cat burglar x cia agent, strangers to lovers, one night stand (maybe?), smut, 18+

word count: 6.8k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1458283445-red-handed-kara

vibe: “Clock’s ticking, handsome.” 

He sighed, rolled his eyes as if the whole thing was an inconvenience and casually tipped the gun away from himself with a finger. 

“Nick,” he said, casual as anything. “Nick Fowler. And you are?” 

She searched his eyes, looking for the lie. When she didn’t find one, she lowered the gun. 

“Kara.”

Masterlist

3…2…1…showtime.

Kara counted down the seconds on her watch and then boosted herself up and over the wall that bordered the property. Keeping low, she skirted around to the back porch and crept delicately up the paved steps, deftly avoiding the motion detectors for the lights surrounding the outdoor pool. She reached the box that connected to the house alarm and pried open the cover. 

“Piece of cake,” she murmured with a satisfied smile as she snipped through the wires that powered the security system.

The back door proved no match to her lock-picking skills either and it was less than a minute before she was standing in the darkened kitchen, the door closed tight behind her. From her memory of the plans and the drone flyover she’d done the day before, she knew exactly where to go. The bedroom was easy to find and a decent search provided her with four high-end watches and a dozen pairs of solid gold cufflinks. She left the room as neat as she’d found it - she was a thief, not an animal.

The office was next. Kara didn’t find anything of value in the desk so she began to search the shelves that lined the back of the room. A statue caught her attention, a small sculptural piece, and she reached out to check the base for a maker’s mark. It didn’t lift completely but instead tilted forwards. At the same time, a large section of shelving swung open to reveal a hidden safe. 

“Bingo,” she whispered in satisfaction but faltered as a loud mechanical whirring echoed around the empty house and the windows were covered over by thick metal shutters.

“Well, shit!” 

She darted into another room. The same metal shutters covered the windows. 

“Shit!” She fought to keep her breathing under control as she paced around the room. “Okay, if you panic, you’re screwed. There has to be a way out of here, all you have to do is find it.”

Kara had been doing this her whole life. Her dad taught her how to pick locks when she was a kid and her career took off from there. She’d always been quiet, always blended into the background… perfect for her profession. 

Not so great when it came to other aspects of her life, though.

But right now, blending in was going to have to be her greatest asset. 

She scoured the rest of the house, rushing through the kitchen and down a long hallway with marble floors until she found a door at the end of it. Just as her fingers wrapped around the handle, she felt something cold pressed against the back of her neck. 

Kara froze, eyes wide as all of her breath was sucked from her lungs.

“Don’t. Move.”

The voice was soft with a touch of gravel to it. It made her head buzz and her stomach flip. That’s when she noticed that that incessant whirring noise from the alarm had stopped. All she heard was the rustling of his clothes and rush of his breath.

“Please—“

“I'm not interested in begging, prințesă.” His laugh was as cold as the barrel of the gun that he pushed deeper into her skin. “I should execute you right here, right now.” 

Her breath stopped completely at the coldness of his words. Her mind blank as she stood still as a statue, not even daring to breathe in fear of what he'd do to her. 

This had never happened before. It shouldn't have happened now when she was prepared and had planned for weeks how to get in and out quickly. Undetected.

So much for that, she thought.

"Show me both hands, up and palms open." The command was soft. Calm as a snake. 

She hesitated for a second and it made him press the barrel harder into her skin and her hands jolted up instantly at the threat.

“Good girl,” he rumbled with a click of his tongue. He kept the gun in place, pressure lifted just a little but still the threat was there. As was the airy flutter in her stomach. “Now, I’m only going to ask you this once. What are you doing in my house?” 

Kara swallowed, fought back the roll of her eyes and the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. 

In the beat of silence, she heard him take a step forward, the light tap of an expensive shoe on the polished floor. The barrel of the gun dug in again, warm now, and when he spoke this time, it was close enough for his breath to send a loose hair tickling her jaw. 

“Answer me, sweetheart. Or you’re not gonna like how this goes.”

“I think I’ll plead the fifth,” Kara replied, trying to turn her head but freezing as the pressure against her neck increased slightly in warning.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he purred. “Who do you work for?” In any other situation his tone would have elicited a completely different reaction but Kara swallowed thickly against the knot of fear in her throat.

“What sort of C.I.A statement is that?” She snarked, straightening her shoulders with a bravado she didn’t truly feel.

“Oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say, sweetheart.” A large hand curled itself around her bicep. “Now I need to know who sent you.”

“Since you decided to play nice,” Kara teased in a sardonic sing-song voice, feigning nonchalance.

It was hard when he sounded like that. 

Even harder when he was a heartbeat away from watching her brains splatter against the eggshell paint on the door. 

His shiny shoes squeaked on the floor and as he moved closer, her senses were flooded with the smell of spice and sage. His lips pressed against the shell of her ear.

“Tell me, prințesă. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Natasha.” She grabbed the name out of thin air, but when he stiffened against her body, she knew she was on to something. 

Suddenly, she was spun around and slammed against the door. The gun was tucked beneath her jaw and Kara found herself face to face with a set of stunning cerulean eyes with flecks of olive and navy near his pupils. They glittered like a dark ocean, piercing hers. The rest of him was just as easy on the eyes. Sharp cheekbones, a strong square jaw, and full lips that curled into a vicious smile. Everything was topped off with short dark hair and a bruise on his cheek.

“You lie,” he spat. “I killed her in Kyiv.”

First mistake about this line of work? Never give out more information than you should.

“You’ve got a lot of enemies, blue eyes.”

She was just making an assumption based on how wealthy he was. Good guys don’t have secret doors leading to big ass vaults.

“So that’s why you’re here?” His voice was a snarl and the sneer on his face grew wider. “If you wanted to kill me, you’re doing a shit job of it.”

“Am I?” She purred. “Because you seem pretty shaken up right now.”

“Am I?” He mimicked with a shine in his eyes. “Tell me, sweetheart, how much do you actually know about me?” 

Kara frowned as he urged her on with a firm press of the gun into her jaw, leering at her in the dark. 

Her eyes flit over his features, lit partially by the moon through the window. Up close he was handsome, dark stubble and a soft dimple in his chin. In fact, his whole face was softer than his manner, a harsh contradiction, and suddenly, it all clicked into place. 

“I know you were a double agent, probably still are…” she replied, confidence lacing her words. “The type to fuck over a friend or two.” 

And that must have hit a nerve because Mr Blue Eyes faltered for just a second before he regained composure and shoved her into the door once more.

His handsome face curled into a snarl as he ripped off her backpack, the muzzle of the gun still jammed dangerously into the soft flesh under her jaw. Throwing her bag far off to the side, he let one hand slide expertly over her side, her ass, and around each leg, searching her for any hidden weapons. He didn’t find any, of course, but he obviously wasn’t satisfied as he forced her to face the wall once more. It was then, with a gun pressing into the back of her neck for the second time that night, that Kara heard the jingle of metal and a pair of cuffs were snapped around her wrists.

“What the fuck?” She spluttered as she was manhandled onto the leather couch on the other side of the room and forcibly made to sit.

“Listen,” he sighed, pulling the desk chair before her and perching on it, his posture indicating his exhaustion. “If Natasha sent you, your intel is obviously way out of date. I really don’t have the energy to clean blood off my $3000 rug tonight so if there’s anything you feel the need to share then now’s the fucking time.”

Kara met his icy stare. There was always the possibility of dying in her occupation, but she never really thought she’d encounter it before. Now, there was a glock pointed right at the spot between her eyebrows being held by an incredibly hot, but incredibly dangerous man. She could tell by the way he searched her that he was law enforcement. 

And that CIA comment really seemed to piss him off. 

Her eyes darted around the room and she heard him cock the hammer.

“Eyes on me,” he snarled. “You don’t look at anything, you don’t touch anything, do you understand me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and he took a step toward her. 

“I asked you if you understood—“

“I do,” she snapped. “The gun is a little distracting.”

“Well, you made your bed. Now it’s time to lie in it.”

She quirked a brow.

Now there’s an idea

“You always keep cuffs on you?” Kara asked, lips curled into a smirk. “Is that like, a thing? ‘Cause I gotta say you do seem like the type—”

Blue Eyes cut her off with a glare, jaw tight and throat bobbing heavily as he swallowed. 

“You’ve got too much of a mouth on you to be one of Natasha’s,” he commented, eyes narrowing. 

Heart thudding in her chest, Kara peered up at him and decided it was time to up the ante if she was ever going to get out of there.

“Is that so? Why don’t you let me out of these cuffs and I can show you just what this mouth can do? Then you can decide if it’s a hindrance.”

“How ‘bout we see what you were after first and then I’ll decide,” he said with the barest hint of a smile.

Hooking his foot into the strap of her backpack, he pulled it towards himself and rifled through it, tutting and shaking his head in dismay before pulling out one of the watches she’d pilfered.

“The Director gave me this for excellent service,” he admonished, holding it up. “You don’t work for Natasha, you’re nothing but a petty thief. You don’t even have any weapons on you.”

Kara shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not a petty thief,” she said indignantly. “I’ll have you know I’m very skilled at what I do. If you weren’t such a psycho with your security you wouldn’t have even known I’d been here until you wanted to change your watch.”

 “To your credit, you’re the first chancer to even make it in the house,” he mused, appraising her with fresh eyes, 

Kara could feel his gaze as it scanned over her, the intensity of it raising goosebumps on her skin. With what seemed like a resigned sig he leaned forwards, he face as close as the barrel of the gun that was still pointed in her direction.

“If I take off the cuffs are you gonna be a good girl?” He purred.

“That all depends on what you’re going to do for me.”

He lifted a brow as he let her backpack fall to the floor with a dull thunk, stepping over it and drawing a small shape on her cheek with his pistol. 

“You came into my house and stole my shit. You’re in no position to bargain.” He cocked his head to the side, using the barrel of the gun to turn her head. “Beg, maybe…” 

His suit was tailored. Custom fabric, too. Italian silk. No brand name, either. One of the first things she learned was being able to clock just how expensive something was on sight. Custom Italian leather shoes, silk socks, and expensive cologne. Tom Ford… she was pretty sure, at least.

The Rolex on his wrist was fake, though. The real one was in her backpack. 

He tucked the gun into his pants and pulled her to her feet. 

He worked quickly, freeing her hands with a click and pressed the gun against her neck.

“You don’t work for anyone, do you? You’re just a lost little—“ 

Kara snatched his wrist, twisting his arm until the gun tumbled from his grip. He let out a pained yelp as she spun around, kneeing him in the gut. He hit his knees and instantly reached for the gun, but she was faster, scooping it up and pointing it at him. Instantly, he put both hands in the air. It was hard not to let her eyes wander too far from his face. In the fight, the buttons on his dress shirt had popped open and she saw a small gold chain resting against a chiseled chest.

“Lost your edge, blue eyes?” She taunted.

Those eyes glittered as that malicious smile returned.

“How much do you know about art?”

“Enough to steal the good shit,” she replied, cocking the hammer. "Tell me your name."

He chuckled, licking his lips as his eyes lingered on her body.

“You first, prințesă."

Kara huffed, he really was a cocky son of a bitch. 

Taking a step forward, she bent at the waist and reached out. Blue Eyes hissed as she skimmed the tip of the gun along his stubbled cheek, curving across his sharp jaw on its way down to his chest. She hooked the chain around the barrel — a dainty St. Christopher pendant dangling between them now as she pointed the gun under his chin much like he had done earlier. 

“Clock’s ticking, handsome.” 

He sighed, rolled his eyes as if the whole thing was an inconvenience and casually tipped the gun away from himself with a finger. 

“Nick,” he said, casual as anything. “Nick Fowler. And you are?” 

She searched his eyes, looking for the lie. When she didn’t find one, she lowered the gun. 

“Kara.” 

“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Kara, but well…” 

“Rude,” Kara sniffed,  gesturing to the sofa she had recently vacated with the barrel of the gun. “Take a seat, Nick Fowler,  I guess we need to talk.”

Nick rose from the floor slowly, warily, and perched on the edge of one of the leather cushions. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forwards slightly, feigning nonchalance, although his clenched jaw gave him away. Kara took his place on the desk chair, crossing one leg over the other as she learned back and rested the gun against her thigh.

“So, you mentioned art?” She asked, her brow cocked with barely-disguised interest.

He stood up and poured a drink, despite the fact that the gun was still aimed at him.

“You like whiskey, Kara?”

“I’m more of a cosmo girl, myself.”

“Well, I’m fresh out of vodka.” He set two intricately designed crystal glasses on the bar cart, pouring a generous amount of amber liquid into them. 

She liked the way his hands flexed around the neck of the bottle. Her throat tightened along with her stomach in quiet anticipation. She could still feel the cool metal from the gun when he brushed it across her cheek, making her whole body light up. Suddenly, she needed that whiskey more than she needed to get out of this fucking house.

“I have a very wealthy client who’s interested in fine art. The kind of shit people crowd around the Louvre to see. He wants a very specific painting in his house, and he wants me to help him get it— now, I'm good at my job, but I'm not a thief-- here.” 

His expression was soft as he approached, eyes more vibrant and pleading. Her fingers wrapped around the glass as Nick settled into the seat beside her, both of them taking long pulls from their drinks. 

“Since when does the CIA help criminals?” Kara asked.

“Probably since we shot JFK,” Nick snorted into his glass.

Kara huffed out a small laugh of her own and took another sip of her drink, relishing the burn as she swallowed. 

“So you what? Want me to steal it for you? Because let me tell you, my services are not cheap.” 

“You’re a petty thief—“ Nick started, a sigh behind his words. 

“I resent that,” she replied pointedly. Making herself comfortable, she curled her legs up beneath her. Nick followed her movement, scowling. “We’ve already established I’m highly skilled, and you clearly need me to pull this off so… what are you offering?”

Nick looked her over, mulling his options and doing a piss poor job of hiding his interest in more than just her skills as his eyes lingered on her lips. 

“What does a thief need that they can’t just take?” He asked her, his head tipping to the side in question as a conniving smile spread across his face. 

“The same thing CIA agents need.” A tight, clipped laugh tumbled from her. 

Nick’s blue eyes watched her, flickering quickly to hers before he feigned disinterest. “What would that be?” He asked. 

“I see the way you look at me,” she said, “and I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t thought about it,” Kara cooed. Nick studied her expression and let her continue.“Oh come on…Affection without strings, human intimacy.” 

Nick’s hand flexed around his glass, a small but noticeable shift in his steeled demeanour.

“Are you lonely, Mr Big-shot? That’s it, isn’t it?” Kara pressed, a sly smile creeping across her face. 

“You heard of Wrightwood 659?” Nick asked with a cough, not-to-subtly changing the subject.

“Chicago, right? From what I know it’s a pretty exclusive gallery,” Kara replied, leaning back in her chair with a smug smile - she knew she’d touched a nerve.

“Exclusive gallery, expensive artwork,” Nick confirmed.

Kara rose from the desk chair and curled up on the sofa next to Nick, a little too close for a business meeting, and tucked her legs under her. 

“I’m listening,” she said.

“There’s a certain painting there that my client would like to…acquire,” he continued, swallowing as she ran a finger down the silky fabric of his lapel.  “I can handle the security, I can even get rid of the local police. What I can’t do is actually get the damn picture.”

“And I’ll bet that frustrates you no end, right big guy?” Kara giggled softly, taking a sip of her drink.

“You watch that mouth,” Nick growled, but Kara was ready to sink her teeth into him.

He seemed to like it. His jaw ticked, his cheeks turned pink, and he gripped that glass even tighter when she riled him up. Men were fucking easy, it was embarrassing. 

“How much does it bother you?” She purred, reaching out to gingerly brush her finger along his sharp jaw. 

Nick’s breath hitched, lips pursing at her touch. He looked angry, furious, even, that she was challenging him like this. Taunting him like this. But the growing tent in his pants told her he liked it.

“How much does what bother me?”

“Not being the biggest, baddest, smartest man in this room?” She grinned, chewing on her lip as she let a little bit of the whiskey run the most impulsive parts of her brain. 

“Do you want the job, or do you want that gun in your mouth?” He countered.

“Oooh," she let out a teasing whimper that made his cock jerk. "Don’t tease me, Agent Fowler…”

Kara watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, his narrowed blue eyes stayed on her as his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. So much for being a big powerful agent, he wouldn't last a day if it was this easy to get to him. 

"Do you want the job?," he took in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw as he did, "or not?" 

"I still have yet to understand what's in it for me," she smirked, running her hand into her long black hair, "other than you not killing me" 

Nick took a large gulp from his whiskey glass, and tilted his head to the side, "Fifty grand if everything goes off without complications, and you get to keep your life and name out of my books" 

"Seventy five and you forget who I am completely," she countered. 

With a snort, he turned his attention back towards her, "You think you're in a position to bargain with me?" 

Kara shrugged, "You're the one who seems to be in need of my services to keep your client happy, so yes actually,"

Nick heaved a sigh and ran his hand over his face. 

"I'm gonna regret this," he muttered before shifting in his seat and offering his hand. "Deal. But do not fuck this up for me." 

Kara slid her palm against his; soft, warm skin enveloping hers as they shook on it. 

"No promises," she whispered, a cheeky little grin on her face. 

Hand still in his, she dragged her gaze from their fingers curled around each other to his face, neither of them moving and the tension thick enough to suffocate. Nick's teeth sunk into his bottom lip, tongue trailing slick and wet over the small indents they left in the skin and Kara's breath hitched as he tugged lightly on her hand.

“I mean it Kara,” his voice dropped in a husky tone as he stared her down. “There are a lot of places for a thief to go missing and if you screw me over I will hunt you down.” 

“All this flirting a girl’s going to think this is a date.” Kara’s eyes flickered to his lips. 

“You have a mouth on you, one of these days it’s going to get you in trouble.” Nick warned. His hand still gripping hers tightly. “You better be careful.” 

“Being careful is boring, Agent Fowler.” She mocked with a smile on her face. She knew he was trying to intimidate her but a familiar warmth blossomed in her stomach with every veiled threat.

“Is that why you got caught?” He fired back, eyes blazing. 

Anger bloomed in Kara’s chest, hot and unrestrained. It seemed like Nick enjoyed riling her up, too. What really pissed her off is that she thought everything was perfect when she'd broken in here. That she’d disabled the alarms and gone through every single step to ensure she'd be in and out within twenty minutes. She wasn’t as prepared as she should have been.

Maybe it was fate, but did fate have to make her look like such an amateur?

“I got caught because you have a shitty home security system.”

“If it caught you, I'd say it's worth every penny." Nick sipped at his whiskey. "Wouldn't you?"

“You know what I mean.”

“That I made you look like a fool?”

His vicious little sneer made her want to smack him or kiss him to shut him up. 

She didn’t like failure. It was part of her profession, sure, but not like this. She was used to having lock picks breaking off mid-heist, not being caught by the world’s most embarrassing alarm. 

“What the hell are you doing installing metal shutters on the windows and automatic locks? Is the hope diamond in this fucking house?”

Nick reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and she bristled at his touch, spine straightening instantly as her cheeks warmed.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry."

Despite the heat under her skin, made evident by a betraying pink blush no doubt, Kara quirked an eyebrow.

“Seriously, that’s the line you’re going with?” 

Nick’s fingers trailed across her skin, soft along her jaw until he cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb to her bottom lip. 

“Is it working?” He murmured, blue eyes flickering from her mouth to meet her gaze then back again. “Because I know you caught on to how I’ve been looking at you, but don’t think you’re so subtle either, sweetheart.” 

Kara tried to shuffle back but was met by the arm of the couch. 

“This isn’t a wise move if we’re going to work together, Agent Fowler,” she warned, ignoring the quickening of her heart and swoop of her stomach as Nick dragged his thumb across her lip and left a shiver-inducing tingle in its wake.

“A wise move would have to skip this house and hit the next one.” He said leaning closer. “A wise move would have been to do your research before breaking in.” 

Nick stared at her and it made her skin tingle as she fought to catch her balance with the furniture pressing into her back. 

“Looks like you’re all out of wise moves.” He watched her, gauging her nervous reaction.

“You said careful was boring, right?”

A ravenous void filled her belly as the weight of his words pinned her to the couch. Everything about him was dangerous, and probably a lie. 

But it was just a job, right? 

His knuckles brushed her cheekbone, the smell of his cologne overwhelming her senses as he leaned in closer. Warm breath fanned against her skin and her heart pounded. Nick’s mouth curved into a defiant smirk as he licked his lips.

“Are you afraid of me, Kara?”

Her voice caught in her throat and his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. The whiskey on his breath was intoxicating, making her feel light headed. She sucked in a shaky breath and Nick’s eyes danced around her face. He seemed to be taking note of every muscle twitch, every shiver, and he could definitely feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Strange how all of that fire you had just… vanished.”

There was that flare of anger again, and this time when he licked those plump lips, she couldn’t help herself.

“Fuck you.”

Her mouth crashed against his in a hungry and vicious kiss. Nick groaned as she clawed at his biceps through his suit jacket. Quickly, it was clear who was really in control as his tongue pushed against hers, licking and stroking every inch of her mouth. It was like he was searching for something.

Nick tore his mouth from hers, mouth bitten-red and his pupils almost eclipsing the beautiful blue of his eyes.

“There she is.”

"Shut up," Kara whispered sharply, as she stood straight, pressing her body against his before gripping the collar of his suit jacket and spinning them around, caging his body against the couch with her own.

His hands found purchase on her waist, tangling his fingers into the leather of her jacket. Just the look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment a flash of softness came across Nick's features before he pulled her closer and attached their lips once more. 

This was a bad idea. Kara knew it. But the charismatic bastard was a damn good kisser and seemed to present a challenge that no one had given her in a long time. He knew what she needed before she even knew herself.

Nick nipped at her bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, hot and wet. Kara bit back, teeth and tongue. His hands trailed up over her sides until he cradled her breasts in her palms. The heat of his hands wandering her body made her tense up, instinct telling her to stop but it was too good, too much of what she hadn’t had in so long.

Nick tore his mouth away, panting and with a flushed cheeks. He stared up at her with a little smile and a curious glint in his eyes. 

“Look at you. All fire and fight, are you always like this, prințesă? Or are you gonna a let me see your soft side?” Nick murmured, swaying forward again until his lips were a mere whisper from hers. “Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

“You’ll have to work hard to find her but she’s there,” Kara hummed as Nick’s hands roamed over her thighs up to her hips before curling his fingers into the band and tugging her hips toward him. 

“I don’t mind the dirty work,” he smirked and dug his fingers into her ass, rolling the material down to feel her skin as she arched her back toward him. She watched him with intent as he kissed a warm, wet path of kisses across her exposed skin. Every shimmy of the fabric revealing more of her as the two of them sunk to the floor. His eyes darted over her thighs, taking in each scar and blemish with brief pause, each one would tell a story of past jobs. But Kara didn’t care for the tiny flicker of pity that crossed his face. 

“Do you need a formal invitation or?” She sat up on her elbows and stared down at him, his blue eyes flickering up from between her now bare thighs.

Nick flashed her a toothy grin that made her heart flutter before trailing his lips up and down her her inner thighs. His stubble set her skin ablaze and she tipped her head toward the ceiling, a soft sigh slipping out as he used his teeth. Gently. Too gently. She reached out, gripping his hair tightly.

“Do you think I’m too delicate?” She whispered.

Nick sunk his teeth into her supple skin, biting down hard enough to make her cry out. This time, when he lifted his head, his smile was triumphant.

“I think you put up so many walls you don’t even know who you are anymore.”

She scoffed as he soothed the bite with a flick of his tongue, slowly trailing it along her warm skin. 

“I came here to steal your shit, not get psychoanalyzed,” she bit back.

Nick grabbed her lace panties with his teeth, snapping them against her hip. Kara let out a yelp and he chuckled, making it up to her by teasing her clit through the soft fabric. Agonizing circles that made her shake despite the defiance that was bubbling up inside of her. She was smart, ferocious, and resourceful. This man didn’t know a damn thing about her— and knowing exactly where to touch her didn’t count.

“Come on, Be sweet for me."

She huffed a laugh and he nuzzled into her thigh, his hot breath fanning against her cunt.

"You give me what I want, I give you what you want.” He quirked a brow. “Symbiotic relationship.”

With that, he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking it through the fabric. Kara gasped, her back bowing as she wrapped both legs around him and squeezed tight.

“Symbiotic relationship,” she moaned.

He was too damn good at this.

His deep chuckle against her cunt sent a shiver through her body, the tip of his nose brushing lightly against her clit before he placed a gentle, teasing kiss on it, "Good girl," he rasped. 

Kara's head pressed back into the cold marble floor as her body screamed for him. The coolness of the floor contrasting the fire that burned underneath her skin every time his blue eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. 

Nick's fingers hooked into the band of her lace panties as he pressed a wet needy kiss onto her hip bone, "Can I take these off, Kara?" 

"God please," she breathed out, wiggling and lifting her hips to help him out. 

Slowly, Nick pulled the fabric from her body, trailing his fingers down her legs as he did so, adding more fuel to the already scorching fire that she was feeling. Tucking the lacey fabric into his suit jacket pocket with a smirk, his fingers grasped her ankle, "If you keep being good for me, you can get those back" 

He trailed his lips from her ankle down to her inner thigh, leaving bite marks and soft licks in wake, pulling every sweet sound from Kara's throat that she could muster. This man was more dangerous than she could have imagined.

“Keep them,” Kara whined as he began to climb back up her legs, each kiss warmer than the last and the heat that filled her body was insatiable. “As a token of my gratitu—“ she moaned as the ticklish scruff of his sculpted jaw brushed against her inner thigh.

“Speak up Kara,” His breath fanned over her clit, completely lost under his spell she almost started to beg him for more but swallowed the urge. 

“Get to work,” she said instead, hiding beneath the harsh exterior in a feeble attempt to control the situation as his tongue lapped through her at a torturous pace.

His low chuckle sent her into overdrive, both hands in his hair as her hips bucked and she tried to get more pressure, but he was a fucking menace. Whenever she thought he’d hit the right spot that would send her tumbling over the edge, he switched up the pressure and pace. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as a painful sense of desire took root in the pit of her stomach, stretching through every nerve ending like tree roots. 

He was fucking teasing her, his fingers dancing up and down her thighs. The softest touch as he gave her swollen clit gentle flicks with the very tip of his tongue. 

“More,” she begged. “I need more.”

He stopped, lifting his head and meeting her gaze. His eyes were swirling with storm clouds, nearly all black as he drank in her half naked form.

“All you have to do is beg.”

“P—“ She stumbled over the words and he chuckled, teasing her pussy with one finger. 

“How hard is it? Having to ask for what you need?”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Fowler,” she snarled.

He pushed one finger inside of her, curling it until she whimpered. Nick’s power enveloped her like a tidal wave and she knew her only choice was to give in or deal with this knot in her stomach on her own time. There was no fucking way her shower head was going to compete with that tongue and those lips.

“Be a good girl and say please.”

"Please," Kara whined, bucking her hips against his hand, her moan echoing through is office. 

He was going to pay for this, she thought to herself in the midst of her pleasure. 

His finger curled inside her as his tongue flicked over her clit, and she could feel him smiling into her and relishing in every whine that dripped from her lips. 

"Much better," he whispered into her cunt, pulling her clit between his teeth before sucking on it.

Nick’s free hand gripped her thigh and lifted her leg to rest on his shoulder. Spreading her open on the floor and allowing him to sink his tongue deeper. She shuttered around him, barely able to form a word as he slipped a second finger into her centre.

“Talk to me,” he instructed between tiny nibbles, pulling away just long enough to make her miss the feeling of his teeth against her clit. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds.” 

“Oh,” she whined, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as Nick curled roughly against her cunt and drove his tongue upward through her. 

“Louder,” he demanded and Kara’s skin tingled from the sound.

She let out another whimper and he lifted his head again, giving her a break she didn’t want.

“I said talk to me, sweetness. Tell me what makes you feel good.”

She panted and squirmed, her pussy aching for more. His mouth was perfect and he licked her with just the right amount of sweetness. Her toes curled, missing that tongue deep inside her.

“D— fuck.” She groaned. “Do that thing with your tongue again.”

“As you wish, prinţesă.”

With that, he nestled between her thighs, fingers sinking so deep into her flesh he was bound to leave more marks. His marks. Not scars. Something beautiful. And she wanted all of it. 

His tongue dove back inside her, curling upwards as the bridge of his perfectly straight nose bumped up against her clit. Kara gasped for air, fire in her blood as she twisted the soft strands of chestnut hair between her fingers.

“Just like that,” she cooed. “Oh, fuck, Nick!”

The cord in her belly wound tightly the more his tongue worked. Kara could feel every sense of herself falling apart for him as her thoughts swam through her pleasure. 

"God -" she cried out, her nails digging into the marble beneath them, trying to ground herself. 

Another deep chuckle rattled through her center, "There's no god here, just me" Nick rasped out, before diving back in. 

She could tell the cocky shit was enjoying every moment of having her completely in his control, and for once, she wasn't about to stop it. This was one time she didn't mind being under a man's spell. This man specifically. 

A sharp gasp left her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, her pleasure building deep in her belly, "Nick, I can't-" she whined, her hips moving in rhythm with his tongue. 

Nick shook her head, pulling her clit between his lips and sucking, keeping up his pace as he worked her perfectly. 

"Sing for me, Kara," he whispered into her. 

And just like that, the cord in her belly snapped. Her vision went fuzzy as she cried out, her pleasure echoing through the marble office. One of her hands curled into his chestnut brown hair, holding him in place as she let her orgasm wash through her entire body.

Kara let her head fall against the floor, hand still laced in his hair she rode the euphoria down until her vision cleared and she could breathe again. Nick’s hand tangled with hers, linking it into his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he sat back. His thighs flexed against the fabric of his pants, tightening as he sat back to admire her. 

“What a pretty mess you are,” he licked what remained of her off his bottom lip and sighed as his eye dragged over her disheveled figure slowly. She felt like he was all over her skin even now.

“I need to start making more deals with hot CIA agents,” Kara panted, pushing up onto her shaky elbows.

Nick got to his feet, refilling their drinks and helping her back onto the couch. Kara reached for his cock, and he snatched her wrist, clicking his tongue gently. His hands were soft and he linked his fingers in hers, a surprisingly tender gesture for someone like him. Her brows knit together in confusion and she tilted her head. What did she do? Why wasn't he fucking her?

"You don't want me?" She asked, trying to keep the humiliation out of her voice.

Nick latched on to her vulnerability like a shark smells blood in the water. 

"I never said that." His eyes raked over her messy hair and glistening skin. "What I do want is leverage. You do this job, you get the money and I'll make you scream as much as you want. For a whole weekend. You won't leave my bed."

Kara scoffed into her drink.

"Withholding your cock like it's some kind of prize is quite the negotiation tactic. Did you learn that in spy school?"

Nick slowly licked her arousal off his fingers, smirk growing wider by the second.

"It's working, isn't it?"

She sighed into her glass, relaxing against the sofa as his hand slid up her thigh.

"What do I need for the job?"

"Everything you brought. I'll take care of your wardrobe, hair, and makeup. We can even pretend to be newly engaged." He grinned. "I'll make you rich, Kara. I promise you that."

Maybe getting caught wasn't so bad after all.

[love-bigboss1fan-me]

Lol even more ramblings about the similarities between MGS and DS. The same warnings apply in spoilers for both games and if you find the dialogue heavy. Enjoy 💜

ID: we start with a scene of Deadman and Sam talking about the cufflinks and how Bridges will monitor his condition, to Die-Hard man and Sam arguing, then to Higgs in his new red, black, and amber cybernetic suit and hold that image for a while then it goes black for a few minutes before showing Higgs in his original military gear and golden mask with the Demens standing behind him, to Fragile’s flashback with Higgs walking her to the edge of the timefall and then we end with a logo of APAC’s and a quote from the DS2 trailer, saying “It wasn’t the UCA that made the final decision, it was APAC. A private organization.” End

Subtitles:

Meryl: “The nanomachines keep track of the soldiers and their real-time personal data 24 hours a day. They monitor each man’s position, movement, speed, firing accuracy… wounds, rations, water intake, and supply… Sweet secreted, heart rate, blood pressure, and sugar levels, oxygen… All the data gathered on the body condition on sensory organ data showing pain and fear… Data on every internal response within the body. All of it is collected by an AI at the system’s core. It was creepy at first, knowing you’re being watched 24/7, but I have gotten used to it. It gives us a lot of advantages in the field too. We get a clearer picture of what’s going on around us, so there is less confusion during missions. And our nanomachines communicate with each other, making teamwork a lot smoother. The nanomachines network inside each member’s body allows us to share each other’s senses. They can see what I see. And it helps control pain.”

Solid Snake: “Is that part of the System, too?”

Meryl: “With SOP, my team can literally operate as one. And that’s not all the System does for us. It is also a security guarantee against the PMCs.”

Solid Snake: “Security guarantee?”

Meryl: “That’s right. The PMCs are combat groups without states or ideologies. They’re not fighting out of nationalism or for a cause. They don’t care why the war is being fought. They are just bodies, fighting on someone else’s behalf. They’re mercenaries. A commodity. So it is easy to imagine them betraying their clients by joining with the enemy, or refusing to fight… Or committing humanitarian atrocities. To keep these things in check… They ensured that no one can use firearms or military vehicles without the proper System ID. It’s true for every piece of equipment out there.”

[hazymemoriesss]

Publication: Daily Eye Written by: Dearie May Title: Lilith’s LOVER found with yet ANOTHER mystery MISTRESS!

Truly, I was spending my evening at the Neon Lotus, as usual.  I was simply enjoying myself within the atmosphere, sipping on my drink, no intentions to develop a story.  ALAS, a journalist’s brain can never be truly shut off, so when I saw our local lover ARIMIDEX strolling in with an UNRECOGNIZED figure, I couldn’t help but take out my notepad and write down EVERY detail!  This is a first hand account, and a 100% ACCURATE transcription of what happened that night.

"Right this way, sir."

A cleanly dressed waiter picks up two menus, and walks off, a serpentine figure in tow.  Mint green scales, and a large, tough tail carefully slithering to and fro around tables, no one seeming to pay any attention to it.  He was dressed in a suit, freshly pressed, along with a nice tie, cufflinks, truly the works.  The waiter stopped, and the snake sat down.

"My dining partner will be right out, just give it a moment."

The waiter nods, and strolls off into the restaurant.  The moment the demon entered the restaurant, she commanded attention. She wore a revealing red dress, decorated with the image of dragons, her cleavage on full display. Her thick tail swished idly behind her, her skin pale and lightly covered in scales. Her hair was brown, short, and curly. The figure’s makeup was done to perfection, making her look just as intimidating and sexy as she wished, her lips painted black. She was covered in golden jewelry, bracelets, rings, a necklace, you name it and she wore it. Her nails were long and exquisite, clearly both beautiful and deadly, just like her. 

Heads turned as she walked in, strolling over to the snake and sitting across from them. 

"Hello, love." 

The figure says with a cheeky grin, flashing her sharp teeth.  Arimidex stared, more polite than the rest of the restaurant, but staring nonetheless.  He folded his hands on top of the table for two, shooting back a fanged grin to the demon as he gently tapped his claws against the wood.  Arimidex shifted in his seat just a tad, leaning in closer.

"And here I was trying to one-up you in looks, Cathie.  For the record, I still think I won, but hey, we nearly tied."

(From this point on I will be referring to this figure as Cathie)

He winks, tongue flitting out for just a moment.  Habit. Cathie chuckles, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her chair, clearly reveling in the attention. Every so often she even looked back to a lucky patron, blowing them a kiss. 

"Perhaps we should have the public vote." She teases, clearly not serious. "So, how's my favorite ophidian been?"

Arimidex rolls his eyes, grin not leaving his face.

"Well, that isn't fair at all, they've become desensitized to my beauty.  And no need to use all the fancy words, Cat!  I've been alright, mooching off of people here and there, picked up a job since we last talked, surviving through a horrible lack of fun."

The end of the snake's tail wraps around his partner's ankle, beneath the table.  Cathie chuckles, resting her head on her hand as Arimidex talks. 

"A job?  What caught your eye?" She asks, surprised but excited for her.

“Oh? Not too much, just a hair-stylist at some small place run by an old guy, but it’s enjoyable.  Ah, and of course some other, private work, but that's a dime a dozen around here.”

A sly grin crosses his face, locking eyes with Cathie.  Cathie grins back,

"Should I have you do my hair sometime?" She teases, folding one leg over the other. "What are your credentials, Mx. Arimidex?"

A small snicker,

"Oh I'd absolutely love to, if you pay me, of course.  And as for credentials... skill, practice, knowing how to look like what people want.  Should've seen my first subjects, though.  Poor bunnies."

The snake begins to eye around for a waiter, locking eyes with a particular snake and giving a sly wink, coaxing them over.

"Oh those poor people... their hair will never recover!"  Cathie dramatically exclaims, grinning at 

Arimidex and following his line of sight to the waiter, giving them a once over.  He laughs,

"I made up for it in bed with them, don't you worry."

The waiter is nervous, seeing the two, but eventually walks over, asking for drink orders.  Arimidex begins,

"Watermelon mojito for me, feeling fancy tonight.  And for you, dear?"

Cathie snorts at that, covering her mouth and looking over to the waiter. 

"A glass of merlot, please." She asks with a sultry smile. 

The waiter nods, and scurries off quickly, afraid of what may happen to him if he stayed near.  Arimidex tapped his claws against the table,

"And how've things been on your side of hell?  Haven't heard much about it from over here."

Cathie chuckles, entertained by the waiter's fear, before looking back to Arimidex. 

"Oh, you know... some people are pissed off about the reforms but that's to be expected." She shrugs, "It’s been the same for centuries, trying to implement change was never going to be easy."

 Cathie sighs, leaning back in her chair. "I told them that if they wanted to challenge me they were welcome to do so in a public fight to the death," a chuckle escapes her lips as she stretches, "A few hundred dead later, there haven't been many new challengers."

Arimidex nods along, eyes locked onto Cathie’s, enraptured in whatever she had to say,

“And you never invited me to one?  What I wouldn't give to see you brutalize some butthurt fodder.  Not to mention the outfits you’d do it in.  Might as well kiss me now to make up for it.”

Cathie smirked, leaning forward, putting her elbows onto the table to get close to Arimidex. 

"Whatever you wish, my dear." 

Arimidex grinned, leaning in and accepting the kiss, savoring it before pulling away, grin still plastered on their face,

"I'll be honest, wasn't expecting that to work.  Not complaining, though.  Next time you're going to kill someone though, please tell me.  I'd love to watch."

"Deal," Cathie says with a chuckle, licking the saliva off her lip, "It's usually not really planned though, but I'll do my best, darling." She leaned back in her chair again, crossing her legs. 

"How's Lust been since Lilith came into power?"

The waiter stopped to drop off the drinks, not sticking around long.  Arimidex grabbed his and took a sip, leaning back into his seat for a moment as he thought it over,

"Well, a lot's changed, but it's in that weirdly gradual way, yknow?  She's brought in a lot of surveillance stuff.  It's not meant to be in a creepy way or anything, but it's weird.  She has her good reasons for it and everything, it is Lust after all.  After the ol' sugar daddy checked out the transition of power was pretty smooth, and I'll spend weekends up in the boss' tower.  But not a lot's changed for me personally, at least."

Cathie nods, listening with her arms folded, her head tilted a bit. 

"Surveillance? What's the reason for that?" She asks, curious.

Arimidex's smile slips just a bit,

"Well, it is Lust, for better or for worse.  It's to keep people safe.  Unfortunately, hell doesn't shape up to be a utopia on that front."

He gives a small, tad awkward, laugh, before glancing up to a nearby camera, and giving a small wave.

"You should see the servers for everything, it takes up a good few floors in the central tower."

"Fair enough, I suppose." Cathie follows his gaze, waving at the camera too.

"Makes sense." She chuckles, sighing. "So are you and Lilith a thing? Or are you both just friends?" She asks with a curious tilt of her head.

Another sip from their drink, Arimidex rocks their head back and forth, pondering the answer.

"I'd say about as much as me and you are a thing, or me and anyone.  I just frequent them a little bit more.  I wouldn't call it something solid, just some free-flowing fun.  Friends-with-benefits but those benefits are a tad more than sex."

"Yeah, makes sense," Cathie says, running a hand through her curly hair, "What do you think you're going to eat?"

Arimidex picks up the menu for the first time, and flips through it.

"Hm..  I'm feeling some kind of seafood, salmon or something, maybe."

He glances back up,

"I hope the trip wasn't too bad?"

"Nah, it wasn't too bad... a bit foggy but I'm used to fog." Cathie says with a shrug, looking over the menu herself. "The trains are nice, decided to try that out rather than just teleporting." She comments, her eyes flicking over the red meat options. 

"I bet you like something fishy." Cathie teases, flashing Arimidex a grin 

Arimiedex rolls her eyes,

“What's that supposed to mean!  Least im not eating mice like I did when I lived on the globe upstairs.” He gives a snicker, “And i'm glad you found yourself comfortable living like us peasants.”

"It means you like pussy, Arimidex Heathrow." Cathie deadpans, before snickering, "Oh shut it- a lot of demons can teleport. Not my fault you lusties don't get any cool powers." She teased, sticking her tongue out at Arimidex.

"Fork found in kitchen..."

He muttered under his breath, flicking their tongue back at Cathie.

"And anyways, lust demons have our fair share of powers, and you would know that well, wouldn't you Cathie?"  The snake winks, and gives a small bare of their fangs

Cathie’s face lightly blushes red, and she looks away. "Not in public, love... you're making me blush!"

The two quieted down after that, and shared their meal together, often wistfully gazing into each other's eyes for long periods of time.  One can only imagine what sort of SCANDAL Arimidex Heathrow is choosing to get up to behind the back of LILITH’S watchful gaze.