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phantomrose96 · 7 months ago

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Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS #its my favorite headcanon so here you get a fic of it

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confetti-critter · 2 years ago

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Btw,,

If you even care

#little teddy bear teacup who give a shit #also its vanilla rooibos tea and its good #i love this little dude C:#personable

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loveraging · 1 month ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐞𝐚

𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Summary: you always drink tea in the evenings. Spencer always watches you, admiring from a distance until he finds the courage to admit what he knows to be true. For now, though, he's content in the serenity you bring, in the shape of teacups and late-night reading. Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, tea with milk (don't knock it..!), reference to a vaguely depressing book. W/C: 1.2K A/N: first fic, massively exciting! Even more nerve-wracking! Time to stop lurking though, and share a bit of my own work. :)

━━━━━━━━━･❪ 🥀 ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━

Spencer glances over the edge of his book, down the aisle of the jet, seeing you all the way in the back. You’re leaning against the wall beside the kitchenette, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you wait for the hot water, in which you’ve just put your teabag, to turn the right brown colour. He knows this dance, he’s watched it countless times. You always stare at the teacup with a crease on your forehead, watching the water like a hawk until it’s the right colour, after which you pull out the teabag. You let it rest against the edge of the cup, just above the hot water, letting it leak out most of its contents. Then you add a splash of milk, which is also done with meticulous focus. Morgan had once said you seemed like a scientist when you made your tea. Your reply had been simple: “Tea is to the body as music is to the soul, darling.”

At the end of the day, such as right now, it’s always Earl Grey, and you let the teabag steep for a while, allowing the tea to become so strong it’s nearly bitter. The milk balances it out, according to you. Spencer has never felt brave enough to try that particular brew, even though you always offer it. In the morning, however, as he now knows so well, it’s always chamomile. It soothes you, apparently, and helps you start your day. He remembers ranting on and on about the medicinal benefits chamomile has the first time he watched you make it in the kitchenette in the BAU, and you had listened to all of it, only to, by the end of his long rant, simply say: “Why d’you think I drink it?”

You’ve finally finished your brew, leisurely making your way over to where he is and sitting down in the chair beside him, the one by the window. That’s your spot, he knows now. His spot is beside wherever you sit, but he’d never admit to that out loud. You offer your cup to him, to which he shakes his head with a small smile, and you shrug as you bring it to your own lips—it’s what the two of you always do. You always offer, and he always declines. It’s a nice little ritual. The other part of that ritual is that you finish your tea in complete silence, and over the months, he’s learned to keep quiet during that. You’ve never outright told him to shut up, but you don’t really reply to him when he talks. You hum and nod, but it’s not a real conversation. Eventually, he learned that it was because, to you, that cup of Earl Grey at the end of the day was a moment of tranquillity—complete serenity, your whole body in restful repose. A moment to let the day wash away and to gather your thoughts. Now, he enjoys it with you, whenever he can.

When you’ve finished your cup, you put it down on the table, which is Spencer’s sign to shuffle in his seat until he’s in the perfect position for you to rest your head on his shoulder—it took him a while to perfect that one, but he’s got it down pat now. His elbow is on the armrest so that his shoulder is at a slope, and his legs are crossed so he doesn’t unconsciously bounce them up and down and accidentally disturb you.

Normally, when you rest your head on his shoulder, you cross your arms in front of your chest before closing your eyes. This time, however, you do something different. Slowly, your hand moves behind his elbow until your forearm is hooked around it as if you’re about to walk arm-in-arm. It stays like that for a moment as you ask, “What are you reading today, then?”, which is the question you always ask. It’s another part of this ritual: you ask what he’s reading, which is his sign to explain the book, to which you always tell him to read a bit to you, and as he does, you fall asleep.

“East of Eden, by John Steinbeck,” he says, and you nod despite your head resting against his shoulder. He’s about to explain the plot of the book when you suddenly move your hand and start drawing small circles on his skin, languidly brushing your fingers on the inside of his forearm. He, quite phenomenally, instantly loses all train of thought and can only stare at the way your hand caresses his arm where his sleeves are rolled up.

“What’s it about?” You ask, quietly, which only adds to the intimacy of the situation.

“You’re making it a bit difficult to focus,” he murmurs and your hand pauses. He immediately regrets ever saying anything.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. No, definitely not,” he says, before clearing his throat as he tries his best to summarise the book through the haze in his mind, while your hand resumes its dance. “It’s—it’s about this dangerous rivalry between two generations of brothers, similar to Abel and Cain from the bible. It’s mostly about the endless contest between good and evil.”

“Cheery,” you mumble, making him laugh softly. “Read it to me, would you, sweetheart?”

As if he’d ever say no. “The cemetery was deserted and the dark crooning of the wind bowed the heavy cypress trees…”

Your fingers keep drawing circles, slowly but decisively, as he reads from the admittedly depressing chapter. As the minutes drag on and Spencer realises he can’t remember a single thing he’s just read to you, your hand draws lower and lower, until your fingers are tracing the lines in his palm. He keeps glancing over as if he can barely believe what he’s seeing. And then, like the grand finale to a beautifully slow buildup, you push your fingers between his until your hands are fully intertwined.

He knows he stutters over a few words, he knows his breathing audibly hitched, but you don’t comment on any of it. You simply keep your hand where it is and wait for him to react: for him to reject or accept it. He accepts it wholeheartedly, he’s more excited about this than anything that’s ever happened to him, and the only way he knows how to tell you is to squeeze your hand as decisively as he can.

You squeeze back, and he continues softly reading to you.

Fifteen minutes later, he knows you’re fast asleep. Your grip in his hand has gone a bit slack and your breathing is rhythmic and even. He’s not reading anymore, now just staring at your intertwined hands and marvelling at the fact that this is happening. Finally, finally, he’s getting somewhere with this. All that patience, all that waiting for you, that admiration that he had from the sidelines, it has finally cultivated in this. He only hopes that it will continue to grow.

And if Emily tries to slyly take a picture and Morgan nudges JJ with a sly look, Spencer pretends not to notice any of it. He’s too busy staring at you anyway.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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masuchu · 11 months ago

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“𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒” [GENSHIN MEN]

what happens when you gift your boyfriend a rather … provocative photo? ‧₊˚

genre. smut, sending nudes but in teyvat so it’s a polaroid, dragon mentions in neuvillette’s, manhandling, praise, mentions of creampies (wriothesley), degradation in his also, bondage in ayato’s, reader is accused (teasingly) of cheating (kinda) in ayato’s

characters. neuvillette, wriothesley, ayato, al haitham, kaveh

love, masu. guys i need these men so badly . you do not understand i am in disarray . tried so hard to colour my text, this app hates me . also the ‘picture’ is a polaroid cause i hate modern au’s </3

那维莱特 ✦ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: A subtly erotic photo; your naked body laying in the bath. The water bubbly and crystalline, showing clearly the outline of your waist and the tone of your body. The soapy water hugged your tits so perfectly, hiding your nipples from view but allowing parts of the plump flesh to be seen.

You had only thought that the picture was pretty, but your lover proved that all things can have varied interpretations.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Well, you certainly know how to rile up the Hydro Dragon, don’t you? As soon as his eyes gazed upon your nude body laying so elegantly in the bathtub, his firm resolve cracked. Only minutely, but it cracked nonetheless. The image was tossed aside somewhere on his desk—he didn’t care where—and soft yet demanding hands fell onto your body.

“You temptress,” Neuvillette muttered, eyes travelling over every inch of your body, “what were you hoping for when you took such an image, hm?”

A giggle left your lips, and you lifted a hand up to his jaw. “I think you know, my dearest Iudex.”

A grunt echoed from him, hands gripping tighter around their current places on your form. At once, you were pulled into his firm chest, and you noticed immediately that it seemed larger than usual. A glance upwards told you that it was not just your imagination.

“Surely, you are smart enough to know not to prod a dragon? If you are not, I would be happy to show you the consequences.”

莱欧斯利 ✦ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Countless strewn sheets of paperwork behind you, your half naked body laying on top. A black set of lingerie hugged you perfectly underneath your regular day shirt, which had clearly been unbuttoned with fervency. Your lipstick has a feature at the top of the polaroid, smeared and messy. An entirely rushed photo, but one that was guaranteed to push your hunky boyfriends buttons.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: “Wow. When you came for our regular tea break today, I was not expecting to receive such a sexy gift.”

You sipped your tea tauntingly, and hummed in response. You knew he would love it.

“I bet you had fun wrecking my desk, huh? Thought one of the Melusines had done it. Nope, just my slut of a girlfriend.”

The name made you tremble. The teacup in your hand began to shake as a result of your newfound lack of resolve, so you placed it down as gently as you were able onto the tray.

“W—who do you think you are speaking to?! You have no right to c—call me that—!”

His lips abruptly smashed onto yours, leaving you with no time to finish your scolding, nor catch your breath. Hands gripped you firmly and picked you up with ease; the kiss did not break once as he strolled over to his desk.

Only when your bottom was placed onto the wood, did he let up. He grinned at your heaving and desperate attempts to gain more oxygen. His resolve infuriated you, how was he not dying right now?!

“Mm, I’m thinking I should fuck you on here now. Try and make another mess. That way I can watch when you clean it all up, bent over with my cum leaking out of you. Looks real pretty in my head…”

Another burst of brattiness stormed through your veins like a tornado, pressing you to fight back against his crude tongue. Your mouth opened in attempt to retaliate, but he only pressed a finger against your lips and teased:

“Ah-ah. No more of that feistiness! You’re much cuter when your a good girl. I can tell you want me, so you’re going to beg for me. I won’t give in until it’s up to my standards, which are high. Feel free to begin, missy~”

神里绫人 ✦ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Baby blue ribbons adorned your silky skin. Skin poured out from over the top of the fabric, pulled taut and carefully tied. The pattern was nothing too extravagant, your thighs tied to one another, your wrists tied in a bow, and a final ribbon around your waist. The photo cut off just before your cute, little pussy—a purposeful tease on your part, a tease that invoked a different reaction than what you had imagined.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: “My, my. What is this, my dear.”

You stood extremely awkwardly in front of your lovers work desk, hands clasped in one another behind your back. The plan seemed so perfect in your head, but now that it was in action— well, the embarrassment was certainly creeping its way up your body.

“D—do you you like it, love?”

A deep, ravenous chuckle reverberated from his throat. His eyes were lidded, hungry, and they took a horribly arousing journey over your body. Top to bottom, no place missed.

“Like it? Mm, I love it. Though, I am wondering how you managed to get yourself into such a pretty pose? Did you get Thoma to help you with the ribbon, hm?”

The accusation was false, but the shock of it caused an eruption of red to fill your face, hands waving up and down in denial.

“W—what? Why would I—?! I assure you he did not!”

Ayato’s sultry gaze morphed into that of hurt and betrayal; unnecessary guilt struck you in your chest.

“You look perfectly guilty to me, my dear. Before you plead innocence, I am willing to make you a deal. If you allow me to tie you up once more and have my way with you, I will forget about your betrayal. Sounds fair, hm?”

You gulped; it was hopeless. “Of course, Sir.”

艾尔海森 ✦ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: A perfectly choreographed photo; from a fleeting glance, it would appear to be a regular picture with an open book draped over your form. However, you knew Al Haitham was much more attentive than that. Your dripping pussy made a imperceptible appearance at the bottom of the polaroid, only just being cut off by the frame. The book was tilted deliberately so that a large amount of one breast was showing, the other remaining hidden by the leather-bound cover. It was a good effort to shock him, though, perhaps shock isn’t the correct word to use.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Al Haitham’s eyes squinted—so imperceptibly that the average person would never notice, but you did. You always did. A few seconds passed with his eyes analysing the picture, before firmly placing it facing down on his desk.

“What is this?” he asked sternly. His countenance seemed to remain composed if you blurred your sight, but slight twitches of his skin and furrowing of his brows gave him away. He was irked and aroused, a dangerous combination.

“It’s a gift! You don’t like it?” The faux innocence radiated off of you with ease; it was your favourite thing to do. Riling up your boyfriend might as well be your job title at this point.

“Hm. No, I don’t like it,” he rolled his eyes at the pout that materialised on your lips, “in fact, I hate it. It is extremely distracting. Attempting to whisk me away from my important work is an offence to the Akademiya, you know?”

Al Haitham’s eyes did one slow, suggestive rake over your body, and the air suddenly felt a lot thicker when they met your own pair of wide eyes.

“I did not mean to distract you….”

“Well, you have. Are you going to finish what you started, or would you prefer a week without cumming? The choice is yours, sweet girl.”

卡维 ✦ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Arguably the least extravagant out of all these images; it is simply just a photo of you laying gracefully on your shared bed, sheet wrangled and ruffled. You are not nude—no, you wear one of Kaveh’s silky button up shirts. It is far too large, and rides up much too high. Your cunt is on show for the Kamera, and your nipples are hard behind the fabric.

It was taken with no malicious intent, but even you can see how it took a promiscuous turn when you gifted it to your lover.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Kaveh let out a shaky breath, eyes wide and flickering between both you and the photo in his hands.

“Fuck, baby. You are so gorgeous…”

You coyly shuffled from one foot to the other, a subtle heat traversing to your cheek. The arousal of the situation was really hitting you, and clearly, your boyfriend too.

“I took it just after you left this morning… I didn’t mean for it— it wasn’t meant to be so.. lewd, I swear!”

Kaveh took a deep breath of fresh air—a substance which appeared to suddenly be extremely scarce— and pulled you by your hips against him.

“I don’t care, I’m actually grateful. Archons, I’m gonna take this with me on long trips now, you know? I’ll be cumming for you all across Teyvat.”

A tiny yelp left your lips as your needy lover began to nibble your neck, hands lingering around your ass, much too close to your soaking hole.

“K—Kaveh…!”

It had only been a minute or less, but he had already turned you into a panting mess. He removed his head from the crevice of your neck for a moment, and admired the work of purple art he had created along your skin. For no apparent reason, he grinned. He met your eyes with a clear radiation of mischief, before asking shamelessly:

“Wanna recreate the photo? Though, my cum should make an appearance this time. Want the one you gave me, and a dirtier one. What do you say, hm?”

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yan-wo · 10 months ago

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Ott and Brewer, Cactus blossom teacup and saucer, c.1883-90 (source)

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legends-and-savages · 4 months ago

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"I am glad that you're all getting along enough to invite each other to parties." Rebecca said. She had been nervous that they wouldn't but there was at least that. A chuckle from her. "Oh you don't have to worry about that." She said. "Did the boys ever tell you that they got into a huge pillow fight in Amsterdam?" She'd been surprised when she'd gotten the bill.

raffi used the tiny spoon to put a bit of sugar into her tea. she liked it just a tad sweet, not too bitter, but not tasting of sugar either. "a few of the boys are coming as well, some are busy but said they might drop by later. we invited everyone," raffie admitted and then lifted her tea cups to her lips. "we'll try our best to be well behaved, i promise."

#heartsbreaking #c;; Rebecca Welton #*It is the fanciest of teacups :)*

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sweetbunpura · 22 days ago

Note

Meanwhile Yuu who was kidnapped at RSA

ROUND TWO!

Round one

Daydreamers

Everyone's dressed in RSA outfits and the more noticeable members are disguised. They managed to sneak past the gate and make their way to the RSA dorm mirrors. The school's hall of mirrors was stunning, it was styled like an indoor garden with arched doorways leaning to the respective dorms.

"Oh, where we do even start?" Trey asks as he looks at the flower decorated archways.

"Flamme, who did you hear on the phone other than Child of Man?"

"Someone named Phara and Neige." Rollo answered. "And the name Chen'ya was mentioned."

Vil and Malleus' faces changed at the mention of Phara and Neige, meanwhile Riddle and Trey sighed as Chen'ya's name was mentioned.

"So... that narrows it down to 3 dorms-"

"Ah, wait." He interrupted. "I heard a voice with a thick accent as well."

"..." A shadow appeared over Trey's face. "Hatley."

"Oh my!" Rook exclaimed. "That's a face I haven't seen in a while!"

"I forgot that Trey-kun and Hatley don't see eye to eye..." Cater muttered as the Heartslabyul vice headed towards the doorway with a a 1/2 tag sticking out of a teacup was etched on it.

"Wait, Trey!" Riddle followed after him as well as the others. "Heartslabyul with me, you as well Rollo. Everyone else should stay here. We shouldn't make this obvious."

The doors opened automatically, transporting them into a wooded area with hedges that stretched high above into the treeline. Paper Lanterns were wrapped around the trees, illuminating the area and leading a path towards the door. Trey didn't hesitate in following the path, nearly leaving the others to quickly follow after him before they were left behind. Eventually, the woods slip apart and sunlight came through as the courtyard came into view along with a very vertical and massive building in the shape of a top hat

"Everyone," Riddle gained their attention. "This is Daydreamers."

Their dorm building sat on the edge of a cliff as it was sounded by hills and hedges. Trees of multiple shapes and sizes were twisted around one another and thrown about the courtyard and in the center of it was a massive set of tables. There were chairs: large, small, and misshapen. A massive lake sat behind the building as well, with ponds connecting to it.

Students were lazily taking naps nearby, some in hammocks attacked to the trees or on top of the balcony's on the building.

"Holy shit." Ace said in awe as he looked around.

"Ace." Riddle said as he looked at him. "Language."

"Sorry, sorry."

Rollo's eyes moved around the dorm to the various students napping, but he couldn't spot Yuu anywhere.

"I don't see her, perhaps she's inside?"

"I wouldn't just walk in there." Cater spoke. "You got Hatley roaming around and I have no idea where Andy is."

"Then what do you-"

"Oh, oh!" The sound of a voice coming towards them had everyone freezing as they turned their attention to see a fair skinned blond haired boy.

"I'm sorry!" He panted and placed his hands on his knees. "We got caught up and I didn't even welcome our guests!" He raised his head. "I'm Andrew Lovington, but you can call me Andy! I'm the dorm leader of Daydreamers!"

Now it was Riddle's turn to make a face as everyone looked at Andy.

"H-hello." Deuce timidly said.

"I haven't seen you guys around before!" Andy bounced between the NRC students. "Are you guys new-"

"Andy." A new voice, with a think accent, interrupted him. "I got this."

"But, Hatley!" Andy turned to pout as the approaching student. "I should be the one greeting guests!"

"Shoot, and I came all this way to tell ya Rod made brownies-" Hatley brought down his top hat as Andy took off without a second thought. "NRC students? Ya come looking for ya princess?"

Hatley was tall with caramel skin and mysterious gray eyes, he wore a green top hat and had long light brown hair. Trey immediately tensed up and glared at the boy.

"Bigsy."

"That ya Clover?" A smirk finds its way to Hatley's face. "Almost didn't recognize ya without that clover trademark." He poked Trey's marking. "Ya a couple of lost lambs, wandering too far from the flock."

"Where is she?" Deuce squared up, only to be pulled back by Ace.

"Yuu? Ah, Love is around here somewhere." Hatley straightens up and looks over his shoulder. "Chen'ya probably ran off with her."

Rollo tensed up at what he had called Yuu. "What did you say?"

A gray eye moved to stare Rollo down. "Hmm?"

"What did you call her?"

"Love? Whut? Is that a sore spot or sumethin'?" Hatley raised an eyebrow before it dawned on him. "Oh! Ya must be Rolls, huh?"

Cater quickly grabbed Rollo before he could attack a laughing Hatley.

"Calm yaself! Can't take a wee tease, can ya?"

"Hatley, we won't ask again. Where is Yuu?" Riddle gained the vice leader's attention. "We're taking her back home."

Hatley shrugged. "Dunno, Sissel probably took off with her." He rolled his eyes. "But, I'll be nice and throw ya a bone. She might be in Junglehearts." He turned on his heel. "Now off with ya, before ya alert the hoard."

#twisted wonderland #twst fic #Meet Hatley #I love him. he's an asshole #riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #rollo flamme #rescue from RSA #rsa oc #twst rsa #thorn answers #twst oc

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suna-cerely-yours · 3 months ago

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Say you love me (Losing all my innocence in the backseat) ft Tobio Kageyama

Synopsis: What should you do when you're being forced into marriage?

a. Seek ravishment from the most notorious rake

b. Get ravished by a stranger who you thought was the most notorious rake

c. Get married anyway d. All of the above

warnings: fem!reader, afab reader, 18+, mdni, themes of misogyny, historical inaccuracy, dubcon (not really but it's a case of mistaken identity), public sex, dry humping, making out, reader is called good girl.

a/n: think of it as a Bridgerton au. not historically accurate at all, and i might have gone overboard with the dialogue. i also use the phrase 'notorious rake' too much, but there's so much fun to be had in this universe

♛

"She's turning four and twenty next month! She debuted six years ago! She'll be on the shelf if you wait any longer. I've given enough autonomy to you, and clearly, I am the only one who's worried about the poor child!"

Your aunt announces to your mother a fair morning in September, having arrived at your townhouse in London a mere three days after you and your family had yourselves arrived for the season.

You freeze in your seat at the sudden change in topic (they had been discussing lace doilies, for heaven's sake), teacup raised halfway to your mouth. Your mother is also taken aback at this, although she hides it better than you, having years of experience dealing with your father's cousin.

Painting a gracious smile, ignoring your sudden personification of the stone gargoyles that graced the roof of your townhouse, she swallows her sip of tea.

"Surely, you've given this a lot of thought."

Your aunt sniffs, the flamboyant feathers on her dress quivering as you watch, teacup still in hand, " Someone has to! You handle a household so charmingly my dear, but you are too lax with your daughter. I should have known the moment you and my brother decided on teaching the lass Mathematics and Science. Honestly, had she taken up the piano forte instead she might already be popping out her third child!"

Your mother's smile becomes strained as she pats your hand, gesturing you to put down your teacup. "The piano forte is of course, a fine skill to be knowledgeable of. We have been looking for suitable er suitors for her, but you must know how the mart is, there's been a recent dearth of good men."

"What a load of hogwash that is! You know the ladies of the ton have been talking, after that whole ordeal with Lord Miya, especially Lady Evans- she gossips entirely too much for her own good. Either way, I have a perfect gentleman in mind for her, in fact they share quite a bit in common."

You watch in horror as your mother's interest piques at this, and your aunt barrels on. White noise fills your ears as you find yourself rising from the breakfast table, barely remembering to excuse yourself, rushing to your room. Gripping a bed post you lower yourself on your bed. It wasn't as if you were unaware of the fact that you were nearing an age after which you could no longer be looked at as an eligible option, nor were you unaware that your parents wished you married soon. However, you quite liked your life on the sidelines. You had a bit more autonomy than usual for an unmarried woman your age, and after what your friends and neighbors had said about marriage itself, you certainly were in no rush to partake.

You had to get out of this, by any means necessary.

♛

"D'you reckon Lady Wei has a female lover? I didn't know you could do that, Mama always said only men and women can be married, but that's such an old concept, don't you think?" your friend chatters, pointing out various people milling about at the Beauford-Shankar Annual Ball. You had attended every year, since your debut, and so had your friend, and usually the two of you would have a splendid time, pigging out on the different cakes and gossiping about the various characters who showed up each year. However, this year, you could barely stomach the few sips of lemonade you had, stomach turning at the prospect of meeting Lord Grant, the oh-so-perfect suitor your aunt has scrounged up.

"Oh!" she gasps, "and did you hear? Lady Garcia was ruined over the summer, by none other than our favorite rake, Lord Oikawa. She's apparently headed to the continent now, to traipse around, since she can spend her dowry as wishes. I wish I could do the same, Lord Oikawa please ruin me!" she laments, pretending to swoon against the window in front of which the two of you were situated.

Casting another cursory sweep around the ballroom, you turn towards your friend smiling, " And what news about our second favorite rake, Duke Kageyama? I overheard two ladies discussing he saved yet another poor girl from marrying her grandfather's schoolmate."

Your friend's eyes widen as she latches onto your arm, "Did I not tell you? He's so dashing, a libertine of course, having ruined what- at least fifty girls by now-" she stops to fan her face. "But all those women would have been positively miserable, had they married their intendeds. He's done the world a great good, if you were to ask me."

Smiling slightly, you're reminded of a quiet boy. You cannot recall his features very well, but it is rather hard to forget the only man who's ever caught your eye. You hadn't realized he'd turn into a libertine, but at least in your memories he'd always be the shy boy who'd helped his older sister secure her love match.

Lifting the glass of lemonade to your lips, you take a sip, before promptly choking, as you catch sight of your aunt and mother, being followed by a blonde gentleman, heading straight towards you.

♛

Tobio was decidedly not having a good time. Society events were low on the list of things he did enjoy, and after many years of not attending any, the Beauford-Shankar Ball was bordering unbearable.

"Tobio! Smile a little, you'll scare off all your admirers."

"Lord Sugawara, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's your first society event in nearly six years, why don't you look around? See if anyone catches your eye, or if you can even find that one girl who you used to stare at."

Tobio sputters, cheeks heating, "I- I didn't stare at anyone, and besides even if I had she would have been married by now."

Swallowing, an unbidden image of an eighteen-year-old girl comes to his mind, laughing at something Miwa had said to her. He'd been nineteen that year, much too young to even think about marriage and too focused on his sudden inheritance of the Kageyama dukedom. Miwa had married that year, and he had been running himself ragged trying to keep everything in order. But he remembered that one ball, the last one of that season, a young woman with a throaty laugh, big eyes and a closed posture, as if she were unsure of being there. He hadn't caught more than a glimpse of her, but her memory had remained, after all these years.

Suppressing a twinge of jealousy and sadness Tobio continued, "There was no one. Besides, it is becoming a little difficult to enjoy myself with all these Mamas glaring at me."

Sugawara tilts his head, surveying the room. "Ah, that must be because you've deflowered nearly fifty young ladies these few years."

"Yes, there's that but- wait, wait a moment, what? What did I do?" Tobio turns to Sugawara, astonishment smeared across his face, eyes narrowed incredulously.

"Deflowered, ruined, y'know all the good stuff." Sugawara shrugs with a small grin.

"No, what- I, no that's impossible. I- yes, there's been one or two women, but not- not young ladies. What are you saying?"

"Well, Your Grace, in the years you've declined to grace, ha, us with your presence, the gossip mill has churned quite a bit. You've prevented many marriages; I am sure you're aware."

Feeling completely discombobulated at the news, Tobio groans, "You have got to be jesting, there's no way- I certainly would know if I had ruined fifty young ladies, and I can assure you I have done no such thing."

"The truth is often not gossiped about my young friend. It seems as if the young ladies of the ton are taking advantage of your absence from society to escape from their intended marriages by using your name. They say they've been ruined by you, pay off a maid to spread rumors of 'catching' the two of you in the act and voila! No unhappy marriages for these women, and an expansion of your sordid reputation."

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Tobio sighs," and you did not think to inform me of these happenings, at least once?"

"I was completely under the impression that you were a right rake!"

Tipping his head back, Tobio sighs again. This was going to be a long season.

♛

"Well? What do you think about Lord Grant? He's the modern sort of man, isn't he?" your mother asks you the morning after the ball, hope evident in her eyes.

"He's nice, I suppose," you mutter, refraining from mentioning exactly how modern the man was. "Sure, if thinking a woman's only role in life is being a perfect wife- then yes, he's perfectly modern."

Your mother frowns at this," darling, you know Lord Grant is a better choice than being a spinster. He may have his faults, but your aunt is right, your father and I have been too careless on the topic of your marriage. You've always been the adjusting sort, surely you can adjust here as well?"

Pressing your lips together you offer no reply, choosing to focus on your breakfast instead. Your mother sighs, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

"All of this would have been easier had you just accepted Earl Miya's proposal two years ago. I don't see how you could refuse a man of his type!"

"Lord Miya had proposed to me because he had lost a wager, Mama. I was not going to marry a man only because he was trying to honor his dignity."

"Nonsense, wherever did you get such an idea!"

"Well, you see, the other Lord Miya-"

"And whyever would you be a wager forfeit, of all things!"

There was no arguing against her. "Mama, I do not wish to marry Lord Grant."

Your mother appeared to have gained selective hearing.

"There's to be another ball tonight. You will dance with Lord Grant and form a more solid opinion on him. Your father is already quite fond of him."

"Mama, why are we doing this now? We don't have to listen to Aunt-"

"And stay away from the edges of the room and other dark corners, Lord Sugawara is friends with the nastiest men, I do not know why, he is a gracious man, but London's notorious are sure to be there tonight. The last thing we need is you to be found with, with that Lothario Oikawa, or worse, Kageyama!"

Rolling your eyes this time you retort, "Mama, the ton hasn't seen Duke Kageyama in years, I wouldn't even know who to look out for. As for Lord Oikawa-"

You stop. Lord Oikawa, notorious libertine, deflowerer of virgins, and all-round suave gentleman. Lord Oikawa, who from the whispers of the ton, was tall and handsome, and never turned a lady down.

You smiled.

"Mama, please be sure to ask Lord Grant to find me before the final waltz."

♛

"You've completely lost it, haven't you?"

You choose to ignore your friend, and continue your search for Lord Oikawa.

"Why is it, that he's our favorite rake, yet we've never actually seen what he looks like?"

"He's tall and handsome and has the prettiest eyes, or so I'm told. There cannot be many men that fit that description, can there?"

You discreetly point to a man standing in front of the painting of a fruit bowl, seemingly immersed in thought.

"There, he fits the bill perfectly, would you not say?"

Your friend follows your finger, before seeming to melt at the sight of the man.

"That's Baron Wakatoshi, he is quite tall and handsome, isn't he?"

"What about the man on the stairwell?"

"That's Lord Kuroo, he's quite a catch too, I must say-"

"What about him?" you whisper urgently, "in the center of the gaggle of mamas."

"That's Lord Kita, any lady who catches his eye would be the luckiest woman ever. And I mean ever-"

You groan, pressing your palm to your face. Why was Lord Sugawara acquainted with so many tall and handsome men? Granted he too was a part of the set, but surely friendship required more criteria? Perhaps a love of Plato, or horse riding?

Your friend suddenly tugs at your wrist, "that's him, oh my goodness, it has to be! Look at the refreshments, in the maroon coat, that's Lord Oikawa!"

An icy shiver bolted down your spine, as you glanced at the refreshments table. Now that you had found him, it was time to seduce him.

"The maroon coat you say?"

"Yes, he's reaching for that pastry look!"

You paused.

"That is not Lord Oikawa. That's Lord Miya."

Your friend looks at you with her eyes widened.

"You turned down a proposal from that man? It's worse than I thought!"

"No, I turned down a proposal from his brother, although they are identical, I suppose."

Your friend moaned," why haven't you introduced me to him, I could have been Lady Miya by now. You're a terrible friend."

"Er, I'm not exactly friends with him, but I'm sure he'll recognize me. Do you want an introduction now, or-"

A flash of navy catches the corner of your eye. You sharply turn your head, to watch a tall, dark-haired man slip out the garden door. Frowning, you glance at the clock, the final waltz would begin soon, and no gentleman would escape to the gardens right before it. It had to be him.

"I- I'm heading to the gardens, if Mama comes looking for me, tell her I'm in the gardens."

Your friend, still fixated on Lord Miya, flutters her hand in a go shoo motion. "Happy ravishment dear, tell me how it goes will you?"

♛

Tobio never should have believed Sugawara. Tonight's ball was worse than the previous and once Tobio caught sight of Oikawa it had been game over. Without looking back, he had rushed out the doors into the cool night. Making his way through the garden maze, he arrives at the center of it, where a small waterfall sparkles under the moonlight. Loosening his cravat, he pulls it off and slips it into his pocket, gulping fresh air. Tilting his head back, he closes his eyes, grateful for the solitary moment. He'd always hated the London ton- the socializing, the small talk, the judgement. Perhaps he ought to retire for the season and return back to his country home.

A rustling of skirts draws his attention, and he turns quickly, eyes flying open and, oh.

It's you. The girl from six years ago.

You don't quite look the same, but you do. Your stand straight now, eyes fixed on him. The same eyes, the same lips. Tobio feels the strongest urge to say something jocular, to hear you laugh again- to know if it was the same. However, before he can open his mouth, you're making your way to him, purpose in your steps. Instinctively he takes a step back, the back of his shins bumping into a stone bench.

"I," you begin, and Tobio's lips part at your voice.

"I," you say again, before stopping to take a deep breath. It takes every ounce of strength to Tobio has to not let his eyes flicker down as your bosom heaves with the motion.

"You're Lord Tooru Oikawa."

Tobio blinks. It cannot be, there's no way. No fucking way.

Before he can inject, you continue, effectively quashing any opportunity for him to rectify your mistake.

"I'm going to just say it, so please listen. I need to be ravished, right now."

Tobio's head has stopped working, and clearly so have his ears. There is no way in actual hell you said what he thought you did, and not to someone you thought was fucking Oikawa.

"I know it's improper to ask, and I'm not sure how these things go exactly, but I really need you to- to," you stumble over your words, clearly unsure what a ravishment entails.

Tobio finally finds his words and raises a hand to stop you.

"You have the wrong person, and I'm not sure why you're here, but your reputation would be ruined if you were to be found with me. Please let me leave you alone."

Heart pounding, he goes to move, but you quickly close in on the few paces that separate the two of you. Startled by your sudden proximity, Tobio drops down on the bench behind him.

"No, please. You don't understand- I need you to, to ruin me."

"You want to be fucked by Oikawa?" Tobio asks incredulously, feeling too confused and hurt to register the use of profanity before a young lady.

You frown, brow furrowing.

"Er, yes- I want to be ahem fucked, by you," you whisper the word, and a shiver runs down Tobio's back.

You move closer, placing your hands on his shoulders, and nudging his legs apart so that you can stand between them.

"Please, fuck me."

♛

You had no idea why Lord Oikawa was referring to himself in third person, but you decided to move on to more pressing matters. The man in question was looking up at you, eyes darkened, and mouth parted.

The rumors weren't wrong, and with a face like that- you could see why the ladies of the ton were queuing up to be ravished by this man.

There was something so curiously familiar about this man as well, although you suppose that was a part of his charm as well.

His hands rise to hover around the vicinity of your waist- hesistating.

Impatiently you guide his hands to your waist, heart backflipping as he immediately squeezes and pulls you closer to rest his head on your stomach.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

You shiver at his dark tone, acutely aware of his hands wandering, stopping occasionally to press into a particularly plush part.

"I know what I want."

"What if I were to tell you this is it? This is all there is to ravishment?"

"No!" you blurt out, sinking your hands into his hair and pulling, "it's not enough."

Inhaling sharply, he tugs, pulling you fully into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Wrapping an arm around your waist he leans in, lips brushing yours as he speaks, warm breath fanning across your face.

"Say it again, tell me what you want."

Heat pooling in your lower stomach, you swallow once before you're able to get the words out. You feel your nipples peak, pushing against the thin silk of your dress.

"I want you to fuck me," you whisper, "I need you to fuck me."

His eyes flutter shut as slowly exhales, one hand sliding up your back to rest on your nape. Tilting your head back he leans forward and presses an open-mouthed kiss right in between your collarbones, then lower. You gasp as he licks across your décolletage, nipping at the swells of your breasts. Your nerves feel on fire, liquid lava coursing as he continues his ministrations.

"Who?" he murmurs, "Who do you need to fuck you?"

Whimpering you grind down on his lap, desperate for some sort of friction. Cursing softly, he rolls his hips up, and you whine as something hard presses against your core, at just the right angle- leaving you incapable of coherent thought.

"Please, again, just-" you cry, desperately searching for that rhythm again. Panting, he grips your waist again, lifting and moving you on his lap so that you're able to chase your pleasure.

The two of you rock together, Oikawa cursing under his breath as he scrambles to untie the laces holding your dress together. A faint part of you wonders why a rake with so much experience was struggling with a mere corset, but that thought vanishes the moment he slips his hands into your dress. Grinding against him, you frantically get rid of your gloves as he pushes your bodice down, baring yourself for him and the cool night. Sinking your hands into his hair you gasp again, as he nips at the edge of your nipple, before enveloping the entire thing.

"I. I'm-" you feel something building inside you, gasping for air.

"Yeah, just from this? Fuck, let go darling, I have you, just-"

You moan as your pleasure crashes over you, panting. He holds you close through it, pressing gentle kisses wherever he can reach. Panting, you come down from your high, hands gripping his shoulder for purchase.

Cheeks warm, you lift your head to look at him, finding his dark eyes trained on you.

"Open your mouth," he whispers, breath fanning over your face. Swallowing, you follow his orders.

"Wider."

You part your mouth even more. Pausing for a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down to your lips, before the corner of his mouth lifts- just barely- the beginnings of a half-smile. Leaning in, he licks into your mouth, muffling your whine. You move to kiss him back, but he sharply draws back.

"Did I say you could do that? Sit on my lap and keep your mouth open, just for me."

Eyes flickering shut, you part your mouth once more, waiting.

"You're such a good girl."

Saliva pools in your mouth as he continues licking, one hand gripping your jaw, palm resting against your neck, to keep you in position- the other slipping under your dress, flirting up your thigh.

Which is exactly how your mother, your aunt, and Lord Grant find the two of you.

♛

Your aunt's shriek pierces the night, causing the two of you to fly apart- well it would've, had Lord Oikawa not held firm on your very naked back. There was certainly no way to misconstrue what was happening here.

Biting your lip to hide a smile, you glance up at Lord Oikawa, who seems shell-shocked.

"What on earth is this! I cannot believe it, this- this is a mistake," your aunt continues, as more people start trailing over, alerted by your aunt's shriek. Your mother rushes over immediately, "Your dress, button up your dress, my god."

Oikawa seems to spring into action at this, sliding his coat off and covering you, ensuring you're completely covered before helping you slide off his lap and stand on your own. As more people crowd around, hushed murmurs and gasps fill the air, the rake strikes again!

The crowd parts as two tall gentlemen make their way.

"What is the issue here-"

"Oho? What indeed is the issue here?"

"Lord Sugawara, Lord Oikawa," the man behind you (still standing so close) begins, before stopping short.

You decide to take over, your plan had worked splendidly, might as well help the man out a little.

"Lord Sugawara, Lord Oikawa," you begin as well, curtseying to the best of your ability in the oversized coat.

Wait. Lord Oikawa?

You whip your head back at the man behind you, and then at the men in front of you.

"Lord Oikawa?" you ask again, hesitantly, and the man beside Lord Sugawara makes a noise of affirmation.

"Tobio-chan, it looks like you've surpassed me and Lord Miya!"

Dread fills you as you realize why Lord Oikawa, no, not-Lord-Oikawa had been speaking in third person and had been so insistent on names.

You turn to your mother, who looks like she's taken to praying, and then back to the man behind- now beside you.

Lord Kageyama.

Thoughts racing, you breathe. No harm done anyway, all you needed was to be ravished- what did it matter if it just so happened to be the quiet boy who had caught your eye six years ago, who had somehow turned into a rake. How did you not recognize him?

"Alright everyone, let's let the family handle this. Back to the ball, off you go," the other Lord Miya's voice cuts through the chatter, and you catch his bemused eye as he winks at you.

Your aunt comes forward, anger visible on her face.

"I will marry her."

Everyone stops.

Lord Kageyama turns to you, " Let's get married."

#kageyama x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama smut #hq smut #hq x reader

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