A Poppets Teatime
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“She is maddening!” Carmilla groans, chest heaving as she collapses back into a pile of pillows, skin shiny with sweat and hair loose. “She started flicking pens around the room and wouldn’t give me a single moment of peace. I swear-“
“Well!” Rosie’s head pops up from between Carmilla’s spread thighs, short hair mused and mouth gleaming. “Why didn’t you just spank her, dear?”
Or: I suck at summaries so here’s a taste of the fic.
Series
- Part 1 of A Poppets Teatime
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When they said they’d discuss boundaries, Velvette did not expect it to be while in a deep bath, tangled in a pile of wet limbs with Rosie and Carmilla.
Series
- Part 2 of A Poppets Teatime
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Rosie clicks her tongue. Her boutique is, all things considered, more than acceptable to host a guest. It’s well past seven and she’s shooed out the last of her clients. They were understandably surprised. Very rarely does Rosie close any earlier than midnight. After all, you never know what delightful misfits may wander in after the sun sets.
But her clients are gone. After all, the boutique is her home, and Rosie will be damned if she can’t have dinner in her own place. So a single table is ready for dinner. A few dishes and a candle sit upon a lavender tablecloth, comfortable white chairs sitting opposite each other.
She’ll have to make sure Velvette takes the seat closest to the window. All the dishes on that side are of the non-cannibal variety.
(But perhaps Velvette wouldn’t deny a pinky finger or two. She does have quite the bite to her.)
Series
- Part 3 of A Poppets Teatime
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Velvette taps at her phone, resisting the urge to smash the intercom playing basic waiting music. The little bop tune has repeated at least three times since she stepped into the elevator.
Carmilla has many properties. The building where they often hold overlord meetings for one, and a scattering of warehouses all through the industrial district. One that looks less like a warehouse and more like a ballroom with its balcony and staircases, to be honest.
Then there’s the actual home of the Carmines. A sleek, minimalist apartment building where Carmilla lives with her daughters. Velvette has VoxTimed Carmilla in her home office before, but other than that has no idea what may lay in store. But the way Carmilla purposefully mentioned that Odette and Clara were both away for the night gives a hint.
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The one where Velvette tries to top.
Series
- Part 4 of A Poppets Teatime
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By the look on Rosie's face she’d be rolling her eyes if she had them. “Oh, I suppose I’m just feeling some latent frustration, is all. I had a deal fall through and didn’t have a chance to be mad about it before things fell in place again.”
“If everything’s alright then why are you still mad?” Velvette demands, pressing closer against the older overlord.
Both Carmilla and Velvette give her a look that makes Velvette feel particularly young. She scowls in response, burying her head in Rosie’s chest. A strategic retreat, no ulterior motives there.
Cackling, Rosie’s hand moves to pat Velvette’s back. “Oh, you just perk me right up! I’m fine, sweets. Just a little wound up.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Carmilla asks, voice a gentle hue compared to her usual stoic tone edged with irritation.
“Yeah,” Velvette pulls back, smirking and fiddling with a button on Rosie’s high collar. “Maybe I can be your toy for the evening? You can hurt me if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Oh, babydoll,” Rosie smiles, her voice darkening as her nails dig into Velvette’s waist. “Very tempting, but I’m afraid I may be a bit too… mean.”
Series
- Part 5 of A Poppets Teatime