Tumgik
#black butler fanfiction
Tumblr media
Made some fanart for one of my favorite kuro fics, his butler, the brave and the bold by @plunderingpennies if u haven’t read it go check it out it’s such a fun ride 🦇🦇
Here’s the link 🤲
36 notes · View notes
fanfictionsworld · 9 months
Note
Can we plese please get a reader who's tired of Sebastian bullshit, like she's just there always facepalmed, not really attracted to him but treats him like every other boys (bitch lol). Like when he tries to charm her she just walks away with no expression, she's not even a tsundere or anything, just completely tired from the weirdness.
Okey i am so sorry for taking so long to write anything but here it is hope you will be satisfied.
Fem reader/Sebastian trying to impress but falling haha/reader is a bitch but a cool one which i love/Sebastians ego ruined hahah/
Tumblr media
You are very difficult to him,which he hates.
You can not be impressed with anything he does and that eats him alive.
Why is this human denying me.
Like how i am beautiful,smart,i cook,i am everything any human could possible imagine,if not better.
He is alwasy thinking how he can step up his game with you.
No matter how hard he trys you alwasy find some way to not care or notice.
You avoid him everywhere.
If you possible see him in town with Ciel,you will say hi to Ciel and not spear him a glance..
Avoid all his questions of how are you,do you need any help with anything or are you free this afternoon,etc.
You just keep walking an completely ignore him while you shop
Which in truth is very irritating for him.
If he tells you any filrtatious compliment you just ignore him and keep walking.
And when you had enough of him you just top and say, ,,You need to stop folowing me around like a lost puppy you look desprate maybe you should do something better with your free time rather then stalking like a creep that you are.
To him that was like a dagger trough his hart.
He told you that which you responded with ,,Yes like you have one damon scum".Which he found incredibly attractive and he was deeply offended by that.
Of cours you did not care,you just walked past him wishing him a good day saying that he should you use him manipulative skill on someone else rather than you because you are not an imbecile to fall for it.
Sebastian watches as you walk past him,stunned and impressed.
He knows you will not fall for him,but is he going to pass on a challenge on seducing you of course not he loves playing cat and mouse with you.
2K notes · View notes
almondmilkcleanser · 11 months
Text
𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 ;
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
■ ` ♡ characters / fandom ; f!reader x sebastian michaelis - kuroshitsuji + in a binding agreement
■ ` ♡ tw ; begging ; dominance ; dirty talk ; cumming inside + more ;MINORS DNI
■ ` ♡ word count ; 5k+
■ ` ♡ a/n ; bye i’m fanning myself
main menu | one-shots menu
-
"Its quite simple my dear…. We play the game of give and take. Cat and mouse. Push…" 
Your cries echoed carelessly in your bedroom chamber, hips thrashing from the immense pressure building in your pelvic area. You were nearing your second orgasm, body on the brink of collapsing into the sheets at any moment, but he continued to please you. His eager member taking hold of your insides, kissing each hidden crevice inch by inch.
"And pull," he pressed his lips to yours, that accomplished smile never leaving his face as he watched yours twist and contort into an animalistic pleasure he grew to love so well. 
"Isn't that right, Y/N?"
You were poorly trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high. Fingers trembling against the muscles in his back, beads of sweat pooling into your belly button. You thought you were in the clear, that this would just be a usual night of nothingness. It was late in the night and the whole castle was asleep. 
Or so you thought.
"Ah! Hmmmm, that fucking stings!" You hastily popped your finger in your mouth, blood from your cut quickly staining the whites of your gloves. You told Baldroy that you were not skilled in the kitchen but with him, and Sebastian's praises, you were stuck prepping the vegetables for tonight's dinner: Lamb Roast and slow-simmered potatoes over a fancy French beef broth. You weren't even halfway through dicing the onions till you felt a stinging sensation  at the tip of your fingers. Shortly after, the blood began to seep and stain your clothes.
"Oy!" Baldroy shouted, his hands showing a mind of their own as they effortlessly peeled and sliced the potatoes into fine, even square chunks. He wasn't even looking as his burning blue eyes bore a hole into your back. 
"Why're you stopping? Sebastian won't be ha-"
"To hell with Sebastian, Baldroy!" you spat back, holding your bleeding finger high in the air. "I cut myself on these stupid onions!" Baldroy sighed, shaking his head. He stopped his task, wiped his hands, and stomped your way with a cloth.
He pulled you hand first, causing you to stumble forward. His eyes concentrated on the cloth, pressing down with enough pressure to accelerate the clotting process. You said nothing to him and him to you, the only noise coming from between you two being the sounds of his toothpick tapping against his teeth as he twirled it around. 
"I don't know why I can't be in the garden with Finny, I'm better off-"
"Finny don't need extra hands. He's particular."
"Well? Let me clean with Mei R-"
Baldroy couldn't hold in his scoff at the mere mention of your suggestion.
"You wouldn't be able to keep up wit'er."
"Oh?" you were starting to take offense at his disbelief in your capabilities. "Then why does Sebastian put me here with you since I'm so incapable anywhere else?"
Baldroy shrugged, dabbing your finger clean to make sure the blood stopped.
"Feh! If you ask me, Sebastian-"
"Quiet now!" Baldroy shushed you, shaking his head in declination. 
"The bleeding isn't stopping. Time for option two-"
"Option two-" you tried to pull your hand back, only to be met by Baldroy's instinctual motion to suck your finger till the blood clotted.
"Ah! Baldroy!" You twisted your hand around, attempting to pull it free. "Let go!"
"What are you doing! Sebastian will-"
"What is it about Sebastian that I keep hearing?" both you and Baldroy's eyes darted to the entryway of the kitchen. And there he stood.
His facial expression showed to be pensive, his arms crossed over the other with an eyebrow raised to the ceiling. This looked really, really bad. Baldroy, with your finger still in his mouth, straightened his posture like a soldier, pulling you his direction at such an abrupt fashion, that it threw Baldroy off balance, sending you both toppling over a barrel of fresh Atlantic Sea Bass. 
Some were still flapping around, hoping for one final chance at life. You watched one flap a few times in your lap, hand on your head in full-ridden embarrassment.
You really did it now.
Baldroy was headfirst in the barrel, thrashing around attempting to get free. Sebastian, with his present frown still embedded in his angular face, grabbed Baldroy by the waist, effortlessly pulling him out of the barrel. He pinched his nose and darted his eyes at Baldroy.
"Baldroy, I don't think I need to tell you what to do to fix this?" the fishy smell was starting to linger in the room, making your stomach twist and turn.
"Aye, Sebastian! I'll have this cleaned up in a jiffy!" with a nervous laugh, he stomped away, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. One stomp too hard, and he managed to slip on the fish juice that spilled on the floor as well.
"Woo!" was all Baldroy managed to say before his entire body was coated in the sticky substance. 
"Sigh…." Sebastian shook his head in slow motions. You felt you were going to have the slightest tinge of sympathy from Sebastian, but you were wrong. He glided across the room to stand in front of you. Before bending at the waist to meet your gaze, he glowered down at you, his face neutral yet analytic. It made you squirm under your dress, unconsciously pushing your legs together as if he could see right through you.
"Y/N." he spoke out, still looking down at you as you sat on the floor. Why did he have to be this close to you? Couldn't he just go-
"When you're finished here on the floor," he continued, ignoring your subtle blush littered across your face.
"Baldroy will take over. You seem to be unwell, so your services will not be needed for the next two days. See to it that you rest accordingly." without awaiting a rebuttal from you, he sauntered past you, leaving as mysteriously as he came. 
Two days?! Your eyes bugged at his request. You turned your head in Baldroy's direction to meet his curious gaze. He yelped, turning his back to you, continuing to pretend to be hard at work.
"Dammit." you groaned, helping yourself off the floor. You didn't even stay to hear Baldroy's questions, you've done enough to embarrass yourself for the day.
//
You stayed hidden in your chambers all day, only emerging to use the restroom. You were so embarrassed! And that… that look that Sebastian gave you wouldn't leave your mind for anything. So much, that you would find yourself having an intermediate flashback of it at random during the day. You tried to even beat the side of your head with your palm to push the memory out but it wasn't going anywhere! 
"To hell with this," you huffed.
"I'm going to the library." 
at the library 
You had books on top of books littered in front of you; poetry, literature, even…
"Huh?" You held up an exceptionally distinguished book in front of you. Its spine was a bit worn but the front cover looked to be well maintained. The language on the cover was one that you weren't familiar with, and you weren't sure, but the more you held this book the more mystified you felt to open it. A bookmark rested in the center of the book that you took note of for later. Tucking it in your satchel, you made a note to crack this open tonight when nobody was around.
You sat there, tapping your pouty bottom lip with a random pen you found lying around. Letting your mind wander, you began to write your thoughts down, subtly giving your mind a break from the monotony of being a maid.
Then, you started to notice your words circulated around a particular person. 
I can’t stand it when you look at me, but then I don’t want you to stop. I see you from a distance, and take you in piece by piece. You move as if you’re not of this world. That you’re merely visiting. And my heart worries if you’ll return home. 
It’s been so long since I’ve had the company of a man… so much that I wonder if your professionalism will withstand—
Disgusted with yourself, you crumpled the paper in your hand, stuffing it in your bra to burn later this evening.
later that night.. 
You finally felt free to let your hair down and relax. You hid yourself away in your room, even ignoring the plates of food that was left at your front door. You didn't care who it was that left it, you were too ashamed to show yourself after all the trouble that you put Baldroy and Sebastian through. You were frustrated that Sebastian was so hard on you. To the point you quickly associated his behavior with schoolyard hazing!
But, in secret, you paid extra attention to Sebastian the more and more you remained a resident at the castle. It was subtle, but you would catch yourself staring a few seconds too long at him without him knowing. 
"Feh!" You scoffed aloud, aggressively blowing a tuft of bubbles out of your palm. It was then you remembered the book! Your satchel was propped next to the tub you were in, and with eager hands you fished inside for the mystery book you found in the manor's library. Once the book was in your hand, you noticed the candle lighting your way in the bathroom flickering madly. You watched it rapidly whisk back and forth until it settled seconds later. Odd, you thought. There wasn't an open window in my room and there's no open ventilation in here either. You could especially hint at that by the obnoxious amounts of humidity drops scattering across your dampened skin. 
"Now, lets see…." you carefully opened the book to its bookmarked page, its pages fine and practically translucent. It might have been a bad idea to bring such a delicate book inside of a pool of water but you were already there. Might as well. 
The pictures were that of a woman and a shadow figure wrapping around her. She looked to be.. asleep? There were words underlined next to the photo but it appeared to be in latin. You were rusty, but with a furrowed brow you gave it a shot. 
"Hmm… I think it says.."
Advoco ut carnalia desideria adimpleas. Venite ad me, o daemon, et esto cum corpore meo per mediam horam. (I summon you to fulfill my fleshly desires. Come to me, Oh demon, and be with my body for the midnight hour.)
"Huh? What is this book? And who would actually believe that-" woosh! The candle blew itself out, making you yelp in fright.
"What was that?! Oh, dammit, now I have to get u-" Before you could place the book back down, the candle flickered back to life, and with something additional. There stood Sebastian, in the bathroom, peering down at you with his ever present stoic expression. 
“Wha-?! Sebastian, what- what are you doing?!” You dropped your torso in the tub water, your cheeks blazen to the touch. Things weren’t making much sense to you. You read a passage to summon a supposed demon and there Sebastian stood?
“I had my door locked, how did you get in?” You quizzed.
He didn’t respond but instead fetched in his jacket pocket for something. In his hands revealed a large key, its hook mimicking the shape of a skeleton head.
“You left large amounts of today's dinner in the hallway. I'm not too sure how you conducted things at your previous establishment," ouch  "But here, we dispose of things we do and don’t consume."
You weren't sure why those words struck you in the way that it did, but it made your head slowly turn away from his stare.
"Why are you here?" you asked again. He could hint at the small bit of annoyance in your voice. 
Sebastian's eyes wandered around the room, his crimson iris' darting from wall to wall. Why was he here? The walls were the same, basin still porcelain white with you inside, so what was it that- ?!
He didn't say much to you, which irritated you to no end. Instead, his cool and calculated steps motioned towards your satchel, which instinctively made you block his hand with yours. Upon reflex, he blocked your hand, pushing it away to further dig in your, now damp, satchel. You grew flustered. Who did he think he was!? You pushed back, grabbing his wrist this time. 
"What are you doing! Have you no manners? A man is to never go into a woman's-" he was near his point with you. When you attempted to force his hand away, he grabbed you at the wrist with his opposite hand, pulling you to the edge of the tub and peering deep into your eyes. Sebastian has never been this close to you and it made your heart race. What was he about to do?
"Y/N, as much as you want to guilt me into digging into things that don't belong to me," you could see under the faint candlelight that Sebastian's eyes flickered from a pigmented brown, to red, and faintly to purple. Goosepimples littered your arms and up your neck. Something was wrong, but something also kept you there, wanting to lift up Pandora's Box. 
"There's a distinct reason that I'm here."
"You have to admit to dabbling in things that you don't understand at all." He tilted his head downwards at the book. Your eyes cautiously wandered down to the book you took with you to the bath and then back up at Sebastian. When the realization flashed across your face, a satisfied smile spread across his face. 
"You're-"
"I am. And I was summoned here in the middle of my nightly patrols. Luckily, it was me-" he leaned closer to you, inhaling the lavender fragrance emitting off the nape of your neck. 
"Young women like you often get the burliest of demons to come and take advantage of such supple flesh."
"And such a shame," Your breath trembled at how close he was to you. You shut your eyes, avoiding his gaze at all costs. You didn't realize that his hand drifted into the water till subtle splashes echoed around you. "I don't like to be yanked away from my nightly duties to appease the beckoning of a yearning woman. Again."
"No matter. The fact of the conversation is: you summoned me," his slender, firm hands stroked the inner parts of your thighs underneath the water. He could feel your trembling, but he could also note your lack of protest. Even to his surprise, he kept note of how your legs subtly opened underneath the water for him. Almost welcoming him in for a more… humble, stay. You didn't know why your body moved on its own accord, then the flash of your memory graced the back of your mind. There had been plenty of nights in the crevices of your loneliness that you imagined Sebastian, sometimes alone and sometimes accompanied by another. Your most recent memory being one with Baldroy himself. 
You swore to yourself you'd never reveal the fantasies that included him and a baby carrot. 
"Nobody has to know how naive you were, divulging in foreign bodies of water without knowing full well how deep the waters can get."
He leaned closer to you, a fanged smile spreading across his face as he watched you, prideful, yet willing to his advances. 
"But I do have one unpresuming question."
His gloved finger cupped your sex, teasingly rotating the palm of his hand around your sensitive clit.
"How long has it been since someone has, truly, satisfied you?"
"How long?" your mouth moved faster than your mind, catching you by surprise.
"Yes." You could have been mistaken, but his emphasis at the end mimicked that of a hissing snake. Your breath hitched, quivering at the helm as he took in your scent once more. 
"Ah- Its-" your mind melted and pooled to the floor as he, subtly, began to rub your sex. The slips of water flickered off his hand as it pressed against your clit, the friction of his glove and the cooling sensation of the waves catching you by an intermediate surprise every passing second. 
"Its?" he repeated your words, encouraging you to continue despite his actions. A sly smile spread across his face at the sight of you turning into a bumbling mess. Your wetness could be differentiated underneath the water, and Sebastian wasted no time determining how wet and ready you were. 
"Answer the question, my dear." His warm lips pressed against your collarbone, sending butterfly kisses along the sides of your neck and along your jawline. You tried to open your mouth, finding the words to say, but they were quickly overshadowed by his long, prodding fingers. His slender fingers softly prodded the entrance, navigating itself to your begging honeypot. As easily as it was to find your entrance, it was even easier for him to navigate a second finger inside. Your begging lovenest quickly clamped down on his fingers, pulling him deeper and deeper inside of you. 
He couldn't help but smile. Hearing your whines and deep, satisfying breaths echo across the walls in the bathroom made him want to pump faster. He pushed further inside of you, using his other hand to rest on the small of your back, pulling you forward against the edge of the tub, encouraging you to wrap your arms around his neck. 
"Ah! Fuh- Sebastian!"
"That's it, my lady. That's the noise I was waiting for." The sleeve of his jacket grew more and more drenched, but he didn't seem to mind. You could feel his muscles flex and relax underneath his clothes the harder you held onto him. Water splashed around and outside of the tub, pooling onto the floor and at Sebastian's feet, but it didn't stop his rhythm,
"Sebastian!" You cried out, your hips vibrating on its own accord. You were near your peak, and Sebastian could feel it. But he didn't stop. Instead, he instinctively pulled his fingers out of you, shaking his hand free of your essence before standing straight to adjust his, now soaked, jacket sleeve. 
"Wha-?" Confused, you leaned closer to the tub, no doubt a pout etched across your face. "What's the meaning of ths?" You asked, brows furrowing in frustration.
"You can't just come here and stop what you started, Sebast-"
"Oh, but I can. As you probably don't know, Y/N, our kind rely on the negotiation of contracts. Otherwise, we are free to indulge and… disengage, as we please."
"Then-" you huffed aloud, embarrassed at the constant, begging throb emanating between your legs. 
"Let's make a contract."
Sebastian openly showed his amusement. Shaking his head with a suck of his teeth. Even he had to admit your naive nature made you quite arousing in the moment. 
"I'm afraid I must decline." He pulled off his glove with his teeth, revealing an intricate emblem embedded in his palm. 
"I'm already spoken for." the frowan on your face must have been more apparent than you thought by the tone of his voice. "However, a short-term contract can be arranged."
"Short term?" You never heard of a short-term contract with a demon. Did this mean-
"Yes. We can make a short-term contract, that way I don't upset the ones I have to report to." the ones he reports to? Does he mean Ciel?
"So… What are  the terms?"
Sebastian's eyes gleefully flashed red at your curiosity. "Something simple, my dear." it was as if the idea was already marinating in his head. 
"I fulfill your fleshly wishes for three days. And in return you are to allow me access to you at any moment of the day. Within reason, of course. But, one being such as myself have ways to even make the most inconspicuous of areas fully obtainable, if need be." He ended his terms with a smile. That same charming smile he would bear to great guests! How cheeky!
With a pout, you took a deep sigh. This moment may never come to you in this lifetime again. And him leaving you in such a disarray turned your logical reasoning down to a mute.
"Fine," you agreed, making his eyes slowly peel open in amusement. LIke that of a cat playing with a fresh ball of yarn.
"I'll agree to your terms. Three days you say?"
He nodded, holding up three solitary fingers. 
"The first day starts when we bind the contract."
"Okay…" You looked around, confused. "Do I need a pen?"
He couldn't hold in his chuckle this time. Without words, there was a whisk of a shadow in front you, and Sebastian was gone yet again! 
"What?" before you could even muster an emotion, your chin was pulled forward, there was Sebastian, his butler jacket removed, in the tub with you. He sat up on his knees, slightly towering over you, but in his eyes felt such an intensity that it made you squirm instantly/
"Sebastian.. What- What are you doing?" 
He tilted your chin to the side, exposing your neck to him. His hungry stare focused on your skin, making you realize that this was, in fact, the bind.
"Just drying the ink, my dear." before you could say much else, he pried his teeth, nipping down at your neck just enough to break skin. You tried your hardest to fight him off, but his strength pushed you back onto the tub, leaving your legs wide open with Sebastian in-between. 
You could feel the crimson substance pooling around your collarbone, diluting itself with the damp droplets already littered across your skin, disappearing in pale pink streaks as soon as it hit your bath water. 
Your intial whines and shifts of protest softened into deep sighs and moans the more Sebastian remained at your neck. The burning pain soon nulled into a pressure that sensitized your body all over. Your erect nipples grazed against his collared shirt, making you purr at the chill it sent across your body. Sebastian smiled to himself, softly kissing at the bruised space on your skin. 
"Isn't it better when you don't resist the devil, Y/N?" he reached down between your legs, fingering the slit of your garden. He took his thumb and circled your clit in slow, concentric motions. Your breath hitched and his pace increased, flicking your love button back and forth, his intentions made clear that your orgasm was going to come first. No negotations. 
Still toying with your clit, he positioned two fingers at your tunnel. You invited him in, slyly shifting your hips forward to signal your approval. His deep voice hummed in your ear at the sensation of your wetness. How slick, sticky, and warm your insides were. So much so, that he pulled his fingers out of the water, suckled each one with a taunting smile, and stuck them back inside without ever looking in your eyes. It didn't take long for him to figure out your weak spots, and with that he proceeded to poke and prode at your sensitive areas.
The water splashed around you two but neither of you protested. He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, tilting it upwards so he could trace his tonge across the entireity of your flesh. Even in the warm water, your flesh grew sweaty, damp, and sensitive to his touch. Your moans increased in pitch as his fingers moved up and down inside of you, kissing your flesh with a devilish kiss. 
"Oh- God- Sebastian!" Your hips thrusted forward again, the spasms building in your pelvic area. You were close, and he could feel it. When you clamped down on his fingers, he let out a growl, his bulging manhood begging for an escape through his trousers. 
"I'm going to-" you couldn't even get the sentance out. Instead, you clenched his forearm, thrashing your head back and forth as the waves of pleasure took over your entire body. He didn't stop, instead he first kissed your forehead, then looked deep in your eyes. His brown eyes were now a glowing red, filled with lust and excitiement.
"There's nothing wrong with a woman letting her hair down and tapping into her true nature." kiss.
"Release, my dear. Let it all go."
Your mind turned to mush. You tilted your head back, releasing an animal-like whine as your essence coated Sebastian's hands. He took your nipple in his mouth, suckling at its erect stature with hungered care. He flicked his tongue back and forth, nipping down just enough to make you cry out. When he felt your grasp on his fingers loosen up, he pulled his fingers out, swirling them around in the tub to clean them thoroughly. 
"So," you breathed, "What now?" He never removed his shirt or his pants despite them being drenched. You were confused but all the more intrigued. He smiled charmingly once more, like he didn't fully pluck you from the garden of purity and made you feel… alive, actually. 
He shifted in the tub, leaning forward to move your elbows in an upward motion. 
"Wrap your arms around me," he whispered, already palming your hips under the water. You didn't protest, instead you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck. You felt like a feather in his arms! You could feel yourself lift from the tub and, almost like magic, you were in your bed. Even as you touched your skin, you were dry!
"Wha-" you peered your eyes open to see Sebastian between your legs, loosening his tie. He looked down at you curiously, never missing a motion to unravel his tie and hold the ends in his hands.
"Something the matter, miss?" His eyes wandered across your body, taking in your supple skin, beautiful figure and vulnerable expression. Even when you caught him lingering a little too long in certain areas, you didn't stop him. You grew aroused at the sight of Sebastian, and you were sure he could smell it off you. 
"No-" you finally said, looking away in a blush.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm assuming this is your turn for our first night?"
"Now now," he climbed in the bed, his clothes now seemingly dry again, and opened your legs with his knees, propping them up so your feet were on the bed and your knees were bent.
"I wouldn't say it exactly like that, but the stipulations do apply," he leaned over you, taking both of your arms over your head and tying your wrists together with the same tie he had in his hand.
Returning back to his original position over you, he looked down at your exposed opening first, licking his lips as he slithered his gaze back to you. You squirmed under your restraints, looking away as best as you could.
"Don't be shy, Y/N. You have such a beautiful figure underneath those frumy maid clothes." no kidding. "Its a shame you didn't ignorantly make a sexual contract with a demon sooner."
"If I would have known you were a demon I wouldn't have even dabbled in said contract…" you murmured under your breath. Sebastian's eyebrow twitched, an amused smirk across his face. 
"Hmm." he unzipped his pants, exposing his more than ready member in front of you. You took note of the faint trickle of pre-cum that coated the tip. You felt your mouth salivate at the sight in front of you. You didn't even notice that he was watching your reaction. He took his member in his hand, stroking it to full attention right in front of you. It didn't take much for you to realize not only was he long, but he was wide and a little crooked at the end. You instantly felt your insides moisten at the thought of him taking place in your begging honeypot. 
He smirked at you as he continued to stroke. The both of your eyes met, making him let out a groan of satisfaction. He was ready, and so were you. 
He climbed over you, guiding his engorged member inside of you. It didn't take long for you to adjust to his thickness, but each introductory inch that made contact with your pussy made you arch your back into the air. It felt like it was never going to stop, but you didn't want it to.
He rubbed your chin, kissing it gently as he let you adjust to him. Once he felt you were ready, he began to motion his hips back and forth, pumping into you in slow, calculated motions. Your body rocked up and down with him, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him in his rightful place. When he felt your invitaton growing louder, he pumped harder. His body rocked you with such strength that he had to hold your hips to keep you from sliding forward. His hips slammed against you, coating his pole completely with your sticky potion. You were on the brink of losing your mind, whining and moaning interchangeably the harder he fucked you. 
His eyes looked deep into you, unfolding the burrows of your soul as he continued to pump inside of you. Your juices slicked downwards, staining the sheets with your cream. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning, the waves of pleasure hitting your cervix over and over again. 
"Does it feel good, Y/N?" He asked, reaching up to squeeze one of your breasts. His jaw continued to clench, stifling his signals on how delectable you felt inside. You were tight, you were wet, you were pulling him in and he had to concentrate otherwise he would fall into the deep end far too soon.
"Yes, Sebastian." You moaned, biting your lip up at him. "You make a woman feel so good, by the heavens you do."
"Heh, Oh, Y/N, you should know by now," He was close and so were you. He had to halt his thrusts to stop himself from coming inside of you, but it was getting harder and harder the wetter you were becoming. He leaned down to your ear, licking the rim with a smile.
"The way your body is talking wouldn't have a single inch of room in heaven. Now, come for me."
"Sebastian- I can't"
"Yes you can." He pushed deeper inside of you, grazing against your sweet spot yet again, refusing to motion back and forth."
"Don't tease me,Sebastian. Stop taunting me and move, please~"
"Hmmm,' he pulled your hips forward, putting your legs on his shoulders effortlessly. 
"As the lady wishes." he rubbed your outer thighs with care as his hips revved back to life again. He bit his lip in concentraton, slapping his hips against yours to make sure you felt all of him deep inside of your tunnel. He gritted his teeth, moaning under his breath between deep breaths. 
"Sh- Sebastian! Please don't stop!" You clenched and unclenched your hands under your restraints, feeling your orgasm build in your stomach once again. You clenched on him, making him moan aloud. His smooth, velvety voice growled aloud, pulling you closer to intensify his thrusts. 
"Yes! Sebastian, yes!" You whined, flexing your toes in the air as he continued to ram in you. A pulsating feeling rummaged through you and onto Sebastian, causing him to lose his restraints inside of you. You could feel his hot milk coat your insides bit by bit, pulsing up and down against your wetness.
When he pulled out, his hot fluid leaked out of you, mixing with your nectar to create an opaque substance that spilled onto the sheets. With shaky breaths, you opened your legs, welcoming him between you again to kiss your neck, chin, and eventually your lips. He lingered a little longer, breaking said kiss with a smile. 
"Well then, this is a successful first night if I'd say. Don't you agree, Y/N?"
Without a word, you sleepily nodded your head, lulling off to sleep almost instantly. Before you dozed off completely, you felt your body shift and the wrist restraints loosen around you. Sebastian chuckled, pulling your hips into the air and arching your back down to the bed. 
"My, you're still more than ready even after all you've given me? Tsk, this just won't do."
"But that's the beenfit of going into a contract with a demon."
"We don't sleep, so the nights traditionally don't end in the same length as you humans."
He pushed himself inside of you, waking you back up as he continued to motion back and forth. You wanted to fight, but you were feeling too good, and he knew. 
"Its okay, Y/N. You still are under bedrest for the next two days. So nobody will know how much of a lustful demon you've turned into during that time."
END.
2K notes · View notes
blue-sterling0357 · 1 year
Note
how about some ciel headcanons with a demon s/o? not with angst, like s/o is a young chaos demon that just squeezed themselves on the contract so s/o helps ciel with his work and so.
🐈‍⬛ anon
(I remember a very similar thing of demon! Ciel with a albino! demon! S/O, it's quite cute, but I'm not adding it here! Hope you enjoy reading this!)
Tumblr media
Ciel with a Demon! S/O
Tumblr media
✣ You met Ciel, when Sebastian introduced you both to each other. Sebastian was an elder demon who used to follow you since he met you because he had this instinct to follow you, no matter what you do and he was right as you being a chaos demon happens to be quite harming to his contracts...
✣ Whenever you would get even a hundred mile near the person he has a contract with, they would get in some type of wierd situation, but he enjoys your company even though he hates all demons, except you as you're quite helpful and you knew how to protect his masters and wouldn't be salavting over his master's soul, like he though you would.
✣ So, upon his introducing you, Ciel took you in as one of his maids and upon taking you in, he noticed the immediate change it had on the manor, the trio would cause less problems for him, Sebastian's cats aren't shoing up as often, the place is often clean and Elizabeth ins't decorating it in embarrasing yet cute decor he hates so much.
✣ As he slowly developed feelings and you both started dating, he got to learn about you being a chaos demon, he learnt how Sebastian would protect him from you accidentally bringing chaos everywhere you go, but he doesn't care as you bringing chaos isn't going to change his loves for you.
✣ He is actually quite happy you're a demon, it's because he knows you won't die and it definitely won't be easy to kill, with Sebastian polishing your skills and helping you and though you're younger and around Ciel's age in demon years, you're a fast learner, except sometimes in battles you zone out, but are still fighting and dodging your enemy amazingly except you're staring into nothing...It concerns both Ciel and Sebastian as is this even normal?
✣ Ciel now has another protector, also since you eat the souls of certain people who try to attack Ciel and have a tasty soul, you're rather full and have no need of eating Ciel's soul. If it's Sebastian who kills the perpetrator, he will bring those souls to you, but only if they are high quality souls, he refuses to have his child/sibling/problem child figure have low quality and disgusting souls..
✣ Ciel allows you wayyyy more freedom than he allows Sebastian, like you have brought in three, white tigers in the manor, and Ciel didn't even care, he was also wearing a mask, did those even exist back then? But anyways, Seb is jealous at the amount of freedom you have, except it goes away when you invite him to cuddle with those three, adult, white tigers.
✣ Also, you're just as talented in things as Sebastian despite being at such a young age like you already know 21 languages, can manipulate anyone you want, great st using multiple weapons at the same time, fighting and dodging while drinking a smoothie or eating a cake at the same time. And even though Sebastian says it's because of him, Ciel doesn't believe him because he believes you're just amazing like that!
✣ If you're happy with showing him your horns and wings on occasions, he would love to groom them, clean them, wash them and polish them nicely for you and he does it so often, he knows everything about demon self-care, you'd look all shiny and whenever you and Sebastian show each-other your wings and horns, he's surprised at how clean they are, despite knowing how you don't clean regularly...
✣ Oh, speaking of wings, he loves to cuddle you and sleep with you while you have your wings out, he gets all whiny and upset if you refuse to show them to him when you go to sleep because they're dirty or smell or whatever because you know he will drag you to clean them no matter how late at night it is, cause he now can't sleep without stroking, touching or cuddling your wings..Have fun!
✣ Overall, he doesn't really care, but he's less possessive because he knows demons don't fall for just anyone they meet, only special chosen one, so you won't fall for anybody else and because he knows you won't die during a stupid assassin!
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
bugsyfics · 6 months
Text
DEFLOWER — S. MICHAELIS
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
✰ 10: 04 - [virginity kink] ✰
Synopsis: It's your first time and Sebastian is delighted to lend a helping hand
Run time (wc): 489 Rating: R (18+ mdni) ⚠︎ CW: virginity kink, corruption, unprotected sex, creampie, verrry slight dub-con
kinktober '23 m.list
Tumblr media
A sacred thing virginity is. Whether or not it is treated as such, since one can think of this subjectively, there’s something to be said about how the very first time opens the door to a myriad of possibilities and electrifies curiosity. 
Perhaps it was because it was in his nature to corrupt, but the idea of taking your innocence lit Sebastian ablaze with sexual desire. He knew you were apprehensive. In fact, you trembled and reached for his pale, slender hands each time his fingers grazed below your belly button. You tensed and he soothed you with warm kisses along your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts, smirking to himself whenever your chest rose suddenly with a hitched breath. Clearly, whatever he was doing was working. Arousal pooled at the entrance of your aching cunt, the aroma reaching Sebastian and driving him wild. 
“I believe you're ready,” Sebastian groaned. This was no question, he was certain, however he looked at you expectantly with glowing eyes. Then with a soft, keen whimper you obliged. 
Sebastian was growing impatient, each moment he went without being balls deep inside you was tortuous. So, he took no time unfurling his erection and swiping a bead of pre cum over your sensitive clit. You mewled and bucked your hips forward chasing the feeling. And finally, you felt it. The tip of his cock stretching past your hymen and entering your sodden cunt with a squelch. 
“Wait–” Your eyebrows furrowed in discomfort. But Sebastian only acknowledged it with a faint hum and rolling of his hips. It wasn’t that he did not care, indubitably he knew that if he stopped now, the next time he began he’d take you in a brutish way. Ungentleman-like, and above all like a beast–the beast he was. 
He gritted his teeth and slowly rocked forward again, then again, until he felt you clench around him and watched your head lull back onto the soft duvet. 
As he continued, your body shook, and you bit your lip staring up at him with blown pupils. This was something he could get used to and the thought made him thrust faster into your fluttering walls. 
“I feel–oh!” you gasped and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Weird like I might pee.” 
Instead of responding, Sebastian chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours and fucked you deeper, more intimately. The pressure grew and you squirmed underneath him, legs thrown loosely over his waist and panting. This type of yearning was foreign to you. The coil grew tighter and tighter before snapping suddenly, leaving you a moaning mess. 
His cum leaked out of you like sweet vanilla pudding in an eclair, and he licked his lips eagerly. Sebastian was proud, but not yet satisfied. 
“I’m impressed, my love,” Sebastian said, pulling you forward by the plush of your thighs. “You take me so well… how about another go?”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
782 notes · View notes
kywaslost · 8 months
Note
How would Ciel feel if he had a fem s/o who wore gothic Lolita style dresses?
Stylish Choices - Ciel Phantomhive
Tumblr media
A/N: I had to search this one up to be honest lol. I haven’t heard of these dresses before but I absolutely love them now that I know what they are! Hope this turned out ok <3
Personally I think Ciel would love your clothing style
He loves the way you look in your dress, how puffy yet form-fitting it is
Ciel likes the way the dark colors bring out your eyes
And it’s a plus that he also enjoys wearing darker colors, so the two of you tend to match coincidentally
It doesn’t matter how long or short the dress is, he loves how gorgeous you are in it
You’re just as ‘edgy’ and ‘mysterious’ as he is in the way you both present yourselves, and it is just so aesthetically pleasing 
654 notes · View notes
dilfhos · 6 months
Text
WALKING ON GLASS.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
#!WHO; SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS x fem!reader
#!CC: power play, o.sex (receiving), implications of demonic entities
NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The sound of dishes smashing against the floors was deafening as it carried throughout the manor. The splintering shatter of an expensive set caused the three three other house aids to grimace. In the upper room of Ciel Phantomhive, his eyes closed and he sighed, for regret was starting to cloud his mind in hiring you— the new maid. The help to what he’d already deemed, ‘A full house.’
Sebastian bowed gracefully, his head cocked slightly as he smiled.
“I will see to it that the mess will be cleaned young master.”
“Make sure that you do. I have very little patience left.” Phantomhive waved off. Sebastian then walked out shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He pulled at his pristine gloves as he walked down the hallways, a devilish grin splitting his face.
When he’d arrived at the kitchen door he’d picked up on quips of complaints from you and Mei-Ren.
“I’m going to be done for sure this time...” You whined, brushing glass pieces onto a dustpan.
“I’m sure you won’t. The young master is lenient. During my recent years I was such a klutz and Sebastian had to—”
The butler opened the door and the conversation halted with unease in the air. Mei-Ren stood nervously and you kept your head low as your fingers trembled to pick up the rest of the glass. The heat of eyes boring into the side of your head didn’t go unnoticed as they clinked softly together in the pile.
“You may go. I shall handle this.” Sebastian’s velvety voice remained low, his eyes glued on your crouched form. Mei-Ren gave a reassuring glance towards you and bowed quickly. After the haste retreating footsteps, the room was quiet except for the soft sound of tinkling glass shards.
“Stand please,” Sebastian hummed, his red eyes trailing your straned movements; your chest rose and fell slightly and he could hear the quickening tapping of your beating heart. Your eyes looked everywhere but at him, which he found a bit rude but another lesson to be made at a later date.
You clasped your hands in front of your body, ready to endure whatever verbal penalty was sure to be made. This wasn’t your first offense.
Countless of glassware had been destroyed by your hand, not to mention the mistakes you’ve made since you were hired by the young master. From nearly burning down the manor due to attempted meals, to using the wrong chemicals in the garden. All resulting in Sebastian’s stern dispraises. Phantomhive pegged you to be just as bad as his other servants put together.
Sebastian began to snake towards you, his movements precise and elegant. With ease, he’s stepped through the shards of remaining glass, not even trailing it behind him. As he got closer, you subconsciously shrunk back until you hit the far wall with a small gasp.
Sabastian brought his hand to his mouth, swiftly biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, all the while his gaze never left yours. Leaving the glove on his left hand, he pressed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He picked out the accelerated beating in your chest as his face lowered towards yours.
Sebastian was never going to admit this to any mortal, but he a part of him was looking forward to another slip up from you. Ever since the young lord hired you, your entire essence intrigued him. On more accounts than one, the need for self restraint became nearly intangible whenever you were around. He knew humans were creatures who could not reject temptation. Never had he thought he’d be acting just like them.
His eyes held a dark glint in them as his lips stretched into a grin.
“That set was a favorite of the young lord,”
“I’m sorry! I slipped and I really tried to catch my fall, but I only ended up making things worse.”
“Yes, the ordeal is quite unfortunate,” He continued. “The entire glass set was a precious family heirloom.” The demon lied, which was proven to be effective given the horror stricken look on your face. You were on the verge of tears and your lips parted to let out a soft sigh.
Sebastian brought a finger under your chin, pulling your head up in his direction. For the first time, you were made to look into his piercing eyes and you gulped.
“I’m sure I can come up with a reason for the destruction of the valuables.” His eyes shone mischievously and a second later, it hit you. And he knew that you were not going to reject the offer. In return, his knee slid upwards, dragging out a gasp from you at the sudden movement and the friction against your core. He smirked and lowered his sight to the rise and fall of your chest, zeroing in on your breasts.
“Lift your uniform and turn around.” His order was low and straight to the point, sending a shiver down your spine. He stepped back, allowing you to do so and once you were facing the wall, your cheeks heated up in how vulnerable you were now before the butler. A second or so later, you felt cool air hitting your heat and you whimpered, turning your head slightly. You then felt strong hands taking hold on your hips, gripping them in a way that sent dull pain throughout your legs.
“Face the wall.”
Sebastian moved closer, licking his lips at the scent of your femininity. It was different and he was intrigued. His finger hooked through the side of your panties, pulling them taut and exposing your glistening lower lips. He leaned forward, giving you a quick and experimental lick, causing you to release a not-so-quiet cry.
“I would strongly suggest keeping your voice down, yes? We wouldn’t want an audience.” He chuckled before returning his mouth to your pussy. You quickly clenched your uniform dress in one hand as the other covered your mouth, muffling your moans in your gloved hand.
His tongue flattened against you, teasing your clit before trailing back until it disappeared inside of you, writhing and thrusting against your gummy walls. Your body was growing flush as he worked his mouth against you, drawing more and more of your slick.
Sebastian’s movements started off as sensual and graceful, much like his surface personality. But each second his senses spent engulfed in your heat ignited something primal in him. His refined technique was abandoned and replaced with one less coordinated but more enthusiastic nonetheless.
Subconsciously, his fingers dug deeper into your hips releasing more added pleasure than pain. Obscene wet noises arose, synchronizing with your low moans. A hand left your hip to push past your folds and curled upwards, effectively sending a shock through your body resulting in a cry this time.
Sebastian hummed, taking the action into memory and his ministrations seemingly went lazy. At this point, it wouldn’t take much more for you to come and he knew this, doing it again.
His face pushed deeper against you, his tongue nudging your clit and at the same time curling his finger and this is what sent you over the edge.
The noise that escaped wasn’t suppressed behind your palm this time. Your thighs quivered as you calmed down, whimpering as the butler gave you a final few laps before standing. Now more than before, you wanted to feel him, see him, touch him as he ravaged you with what he had to offer.
Turning around slightly, you caught a glimpse of darkness, the air around you suddenly cold. Murkiness surrounded you, as you only caught a flash of his twisted face in a snarl—a stark contrast to his typical refined features. A shiver ran down your spine, his grip returning but tighter than the last.
“You still refuse to listen.” His breath was ticking your ear, tone menacing but the same velvet that compelled your limbs to relax.
Before you could come up with some half thought out apology, he sheathed his dick into you, grunting softly when he was flush against your ass. Not knowing when he had the time to release himself, you keened at the sudden intrusion as you shifted and tightened around him.
He sighed, strumming his fingers on your hips before pulling out and pushing into you firmly. His movements formed a rhythm as you were rocked against the wall. By now, your hand had fallen from your mouth and was instead placed on the surface in front of you. Movements increasing in speed as well as forcefulness, moans poured from you, wafting through the kitchen and you could only hope that’s where they’ll remain.
Sebastian grunted before yanking your hands behind you, wrists gripped under his one hand with precision at the small of your back. He’s reverted to fucking you with reckless abandon, his own breathing just barely ragged.
You, however were a mess, your vision blurred with wetness, voice producing a low mantra of the butler’s name as a desired pressure began to build up within you. Over and over, his thrusts hit that sweet spot within you that pushed you closer and closer to that moment of bliss.
“What do you think of this lesson?” It was a strange question, at the even most strangest time. It barely processed in your ears and you’re only half inclined to answer in the state you’re in. However, his hand reaches to tilt your head back, face ethereally perfect as golden pools stare into your soul.
“Hnn..?” You couldn’t think, much less articulate any response he was looking but that was alright. He just wanted to drink in the gloss in your eyes as your mouth moves, no words escaping. Your cunt pulsated around him, each stroke drawing more and more of your essence from your body. Perhaps, he thought, it would be wrong to indulge in a bit of the human soul. Not when you were so vulnerable and pliant under his mere gaze. You didn’t see him now. You didn’t see what he’d become again, as the only thing you that surrounded you was the grip of the cold and your cunt being stretched out.
Only when he released you with a low chuckle did the static disipitate and the pressure snaps, his hand quick to hold your cries.
Delicious aftershocks took hold of you, controlling your convulsions as you clenched repeatedly around Sebastian’s cock. You couldn’t see the subtle twist of his features as he approached euphoria as well, his grip icy as he held you against the wall. Following suit soon after, his hot come spilled into you in copious amounts, filling you until it trickled down your thighs.
He pulled out and your legs buckled slightly beneath you before he chuckled and you were spun around.
“Hey now,”
Sebastian was altogether neat. His uniform remained as immaculate as they were when he walked in, white gloves on and pristine. His face retained its usual fair skinned complexion, void of sweat or any indication of vigorous activity.
Meanwhile, you knew you looked a complete mess if it wasn’t obvious. Sebastian cocked his head and smiled warmly, a bright expression that contrasted the devil in his eye.
“Despite how pleasurable this lesson has been, I implore you to exercise caution and heighten your awareness. The young master would not appreciate any more recklessness from you and neither will I.” As he spoke his teeth gleamed only adding to the weight of his words engraved in your mind.
Still you straightened, your hands clasping tightly over your uniform as you nodded curtly.
“Yes Sebastian!”
After that encounter in the kitchen, your mistakes and slip-ups had been reduced to very little occurrences to absolutely none.
“See I knew you’d get the hang of things!” Mei-Ren beamed.
“Maybe I’ll let you cook something small again. Seeing how much you improved and all.” Baldroy had praised, fanning a smoking pot.
Each of the house aids were ultimately pleased you were doing better than you had been before.
Even Phantomhive seemed content, but not at all surprised knowing Sebastian had a hand in it. The butler was delighted as well, rewarding your improvements with favorable pleasures every now and again.
He still needed to teach you a lesson about listening after all.
Tumblr media
DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content— current or archival.
Tumblr media
316 notes · View notes
manias-wordcount · 2 years
Note
I would like headcanons with Sébastian showing lots of love and affection to his S/O. Pretty please XD.
Showing Affection HCs (Sebastian)
𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲! 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗲
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
Tumblr media
This man ABSOLUTELY stares at you any chance he gets
Talking about long, long looks at you when you’re distracted or looking back just so he can admire you with a small smile
Like it when it comes to you? Demon no more! 
Probably really enjoys just being able to hold you in silence
Definitely loves the moments where he can just lie in bed with you on his chest at night 
Watching you sleepily play with his fingers while kissing your forehead as a small warning that you’re getting close to accidentally hurting yourself on his nails
Acts of service type of guy (big surprise there)
From carrying you to helping you dress to even cooking and feeding you
Completely and utterly obsessed with just basking in his precious human’s life and ensuring their comfort
He adores you so much he just can’t help but spoil you whenever he can <3
3K notes · View notes
alastor-simp · 4 months
Text
Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis Reacting to a reader who sings like Japanese singer “Ado”
Tumblr media
Deciding to try doing another fandom, so I’m gonna do black butler. Only doing Sebby and Ciel since I’m more in tune on how to write them compared to the other characters. Gonna continue the Ado series with them too. I know that this was the Victorian Era so they didn't have stuff like Youtube, so I'm gonna try to change it a bit, and not include that. Enjoy everyone :)
Ciel Phantomhive♟️
Tumblr media
♟️Ciel had many duties to attend to as he was the head of Phantomhive manor along with being the Queen’s Watchdog. Apart from filling out paperwork for his company, he had many hobbies that Sebastian help teach him like hunting or playing the violin.
♟️He had met you by Lizzy, as she had found you during one of her strolls in London. You were a frail little thing, but you had a certain amount of skills, so Ciel decided to hire you as a maid for the manor. Hopefully your skills you be much better then the other three. You were a fast learner, and quickly adapted to life at the manor. Both him and Sebastian were impressed with how well you handle your tasks.
♟️Ciel was on his way back to his office when he heard the sound of someone singing. Curious, he headed to wear the sound was coming from and made his way over to one of the rooms which had the door slightly open. Ciel peeked in and saw you in the middle of the room, leaning against the window. You had just finished up dusting the area and decided to take a small break, and while in your break, you started singing as it was something you loved to do.
♟️Once you finished, you heard the sound of clapping and turned to see Lord Phantomhive, leaning against the door with a small smile on his face. “Ahh, Young Master, I was just um-”, you were flustered and tried to explain yourself, but Ciel just put his hand up, which made you stop talking
♟️ “I am not upset with you, y/n. I’m very surprised actually. You never told me you could sing.” Ciel said as he walked closer towards you, standing next to the window. You went on to explain to him that you always loved singing, but you had a slight problem with revealing yourself to everyone as you preferred keeping your identity hidden.
♟️Ciel listened to you and he smiled softly, walking closer to you and grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. He said that you were very talented and should pursue what you loved doing instead of working as a maid. You would still live in the manor, but he would do everything he can to support you in anyway. He knew that hiding your identity would be a challenge, but he assume that maybe a mask would be beneficial to hide your identity.
♟️After that, Ciel would host events at the manor where he would have you perform in front of all of the guests. Everyone was blown away by you that all of the nobles were gossiping about who you were. Pretty soon, you were getting requests to perform at theaters and balls. Everyone was referring to you as the mysterious singer since no one could see your face when you performed, but no one really question it.
♟️Ciel was happy for you that you were achieving your dreams and he was glad to assist in any way with events. He also would like to know what was the new song you were working on, as he was feeling giddy, but he tried to tried to hide it to avoid teasing from Sebastian.
♟️His favorite song that you sang was a cover you did called " Crime & Punishment". He wasn't familiar with that genre of music, but he did enjoy it, and loved how high you went with certain notes in the song.
youtube
Sebastian Michaelis😈
Tumblr media
😈Sebastian had many duties to fulfill for his young master. There was many tasks he had to play, playing his role as a butler for the manor while also serving as the demon contractor/protector for the young masters soul. Tasks like this for a human would be difficult, but for Sebastian it was nothing.
😈Since Sebastian as been around for a long time, he possessed many talents and skills, ranging from speaking Latin, horseback riding, and playing certain instruments. He was tasked with teaching the young master these things as he was the Lord of Phantomhive manor, though his skills for the violin needed a lot of work.
😈Sebastian had met you during one of his strolls in London. He was on his way back from receiving supplies, when he passed an alley and saw you being held against the wall by three men, with knives. Ahh humans, always so greedy that they would resort to stealing from a young maiden. It all happen so quick, one second you were being threatened by these guys for money then all of a sudden, all three of the men ended being knocked out, and a tall handsome man wearing a suit was in front of you. You thanked him for helping you, and went out of your way to say you were looking for a place to work, to which led you to being introduce to Ciel Phantomhive and becoming a maid for the manor.
😈Sebastian noticed that you were nothing like the other three workers, as you didn't possess any secret skills, but he did appreciate how quick you were to learn and perform your tasks at the manor. There was something about you that drew you to him, he wasn't sure what it was, but he figured there was more too you then just being a regular human.
😈Upon leaving the young masters study after serving him his afternoon tea, Sebastian started to make his way back to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal, and to make sure Bard wasn't using the flamethrower again. He stopped once he heard the sounds of someone singing nearby. Curious, he ventured closer to where the singing was coming from, and noticed that one of the doors was opened slightly. Peeking his head through the door, Sebastian saw you in the middle of the room, dusting one of the shelves, while singing a random melody.
😈"Oya, this human is very interesting", Sebastian thought as he entered the room slowly as not to disturb your singing. Upon turning around after you finished dusting, you dropped the feather duster in shock and covered your mouth as you realized Sebastian was in the room and heard you singing: "S-sebastian! U-um I was um-." Stumbling over your words, you were unable to explain anything to him, and quickly ducked your head down in embarrassment. Chuckling, Sebastian walked closer towards you, lifting your head by placing his fingers on your chin: "Your singing is quite beautiful, Y/N. How come you never told me or the young master you could sing?"
😈Looking away from his gorgeous eyes, you explained to him that you always loved singing, but you preferred to sing in private, or sing where no one could tell it was you. You apologized again if you had distracted him from his duties, but Sebastian just shook his head and smiled saying there was no need to apologize for something like this, but he still wondered why you decided to work as a maid and not a singer.
😈After that, Sebastian explained what had happened with the young master about your hidden talents and insisted in a plan that could benefit both his company and your dream. Ciel was surprised that Sebastian had taken an interest in you, but he didn't think to hard on it and listened to what plan Sebastian had in mind.
😈The both of them discussed the plan with you to be a private singer for the Funtom company. Whenever they would travel to an event for one of the other lords, they would have you there to sing and entertain the guests with your beautiful singing, in disguise of course as you were insistent that you wanted your appearance hidden from everyone. Word spread quickly over the streets of London about the mysterious singer of the Funtom company, including reaching the Queen herself as she was amazed by this singer and sent a letter to Lord Phantomhive herself, requesting the mysterious singer to attend the next ball/event she would plan.
😈Sebastian was quite pleased with how well things were going. Not only was the young masters company becoming extremely popular now, but also you were able to do what you loved which was sing. Of course, Sebastian had to make sure your needs were met and made sure you were not overworking yourself too much as what kind of butler would he be if he didn't provide the best care for you.
😈His favorite song of yours is "Domestic De Violence" . He finds the melody to be very beautiful and finds the lyrics to be very manipulating, but in a good way for him.
youtube
234 notes · View notes
snake-cabin · 2 months
Text
"Epitaph"
Tumblr media
Undertaker x Female Reader
word count: 15,900+
(requested by @anxious-chick // After running into the mysterious guest known as “Undertaker” at several of Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive’s weekly parties, the two of you eventually take an interest in one another, even if your part in that begins as somewhat reluctant. However, over time, as you grow more comfortable around one another, you find perhaps there's a reason you two were destined to meet, starting with the fact that he's the first one to show you physical touch isn't something to be afraid of.)
disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! plot heavy in the beginning (sort of slow burn) with smut at the end, loss of virginity, best way i can describe this is like a one-sided reluctant acquaintances to lovers lol, bittersweet ending, some mentions of drinking/alcohol.
*ao3 mirror*
***
The cemetery beyond the mortuary was empty at this time of night, the small, early morning hours just beginning to creep over the horizon, staining the dark velvets of night with a fine veil of ghostly greys, the moonlight breaking through the thick shield of clouds overhead. Through the latticed windows of the kitchenette, silver beams slipped through the glass to lay on the cool tile floor, the table by the sill where you used to sit and read your mystery novels now overgrown with houseplants.
It was all he had left of you— ferns and pothos and calatheas.
Houseplants, and the loop of your hair that was preserved behind the glass of his mourning lockets.
Out of the countless bodies he’d seen through death, tended to and prepared to be placed perfectly in their eternal resting place, you had been the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking.
It had been years since he’d shed even a single tear over one of the deceased— decades— maybe even over a century— but for you, after all this time, he guessed he still had a few lingering shreds of humanity left in his crypt of a heart after all. No matter how far he tried to bury his grief, his mourning, your passing had finally been the thing to unearth it.
Standing before your headstone beneath the kitchen window, facing the direction of the setting sun, your favorite time of day, tracing the letters of your name with his sullen chartreuse gaze, slivers of emerald slipping through the gaps of his curtain of silver bags, he just let the tears fall. If anyone else had been around to see, they would’ve never believed the funeral director was actually crying over one of his corpses.
But you had been so much more than just a body, once upon a time. It haunted him to think one day he might be the only soul left to remember you’d even existed at all. But then again, those were all memories he still held dear. He could recall them as if they’d occurred only yesterday, could see the curve of your profile from across the room, feel the way the dip of your waist fit perfectly into his palm, hear the lilt of your laugh, able to amuse you with anything he said if he really wanted to once he’d finally deciphered your sense of humor.
Those days were over for you now, but he could still relive pieces of them, their echo reverberating through his mind as soon as he plucked the first string on one. No matter how melancholy the tune, the melody was still just as sweet.
Strolling away from your resting place, venturing further into the garden of graves that lay beyond, he began to hum a quiet song to himself, one he’d heard time and time again back when you two had first fallen into each other’s orbit. Despite the sadness, it made him smile. He wished he would’ve asked to dance with you sooner, danced with you more, once he’d finally gotten the chance.
He could almost feel the waltz welling within him, doing a turn and imagining your hands clasped with his, twirling you gracefully, allowing you to unravel just far enough to give the illusion of breaking away only to return to him, wearing that mischievous smile he so adored.
How he longed to revisit those nights in more than just his memories— the mysterious gatherings, the lavish parties, no matter what menagerie of wealthy, well-bred guests were in attendance, his interest always locking in on you.
But even he couldn’t have guessed, back then, that he would’ve ever grown so attached as to weep for you once you were dead…
***
It had all began at one of the Phantomhive’s illustrious, notorious nighttime banquets, each and every guest hand picked and carefully curated, placed strategically within the mansion’s hosting perimeter, down to the seating arrangements at dinner and the order in which the carriages arrived to deliver you all home at the end of the event.
The first few times you’d been invited, you hadn’t a clue why you were there. Because what could Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive possibly want to do with a local news column writer such as yourself? They’d barely spoken to you upon your arrival, too busy mingling with the more important guests, but as you’d awkwardly skirted the corners of the room, the neglect had given you the opportunity to do what it was you were best at.
Survey the crowd.
People watch.
Discover the strengths and weaknesses of your fellow party-goers all while remaining anonymous and tucked away into the shadows.
It was how you’d quickly began to rise through the ranks of the journalists at your press department, sniffing out mysterious stories and the savage truths behind them before anyone else even had the chance to pick a direction to start in.
To yourself, you thought it just made you a good journalist. To others, it made you dangerous.
And if anyone besides the hosts of the evening knew just exactly how lethal you could become with a pen and notepad in your hand, they’d all be anxiously vying to convince you they weren’t like other arms dealers and black market traders or any other less-than-ethical variety of underworld rat skittering through London’s secret mazes.
But that had all been a part of Vincent and Rachel’s plan. Have you stir things up just enough to have the vermin scatter, then all they’d need to do would be to divert them towards the trap.
By the fifth time you’d accepted their ominous invitation— why you kept returning despite the uneasiness it all gave you, you weren’t sure, other than your innate curiosity and just so happening to have most nights free from your busy work schedule— your hosts had finally found it appropriate to introduce themselves to you personally.
Even before you’d begun attending the parties, seen the infamous Phantomhive’s with your own eyes, you’d heard the rumors— not just of their wealth, but of their beauty as well.
Rachel and Vincent both bore striking appearances. They had this air about them, something you just couldn’t put your finger on, that made you both weary and trusting of them on sight. Like a siren singing from a rock near the shore, they lured you in with their elegant charms, but get too close and you’d find yourself drowning.
“Ah, there she is,” Vincent had said as he and his wife gracefully approached you. “The woman of the hour. Welcome, welcome.” You gave them a respectful courtesy, bowing your head and clutching your skirts, hoping to hide how your hands had begun to shake, your nerves getting the better of you.
“Thank you for having me,” you replied, trying to sound actually grateful instead of skeptical. You were going to keep your confusion to yourself, just let it go and enjoy being able to attend while it lasted, but then something inside you decided against it and you asked, “But— and excuse me if this is out of turn— why, exactly, have I been invited…?”
Rachel and Vincent both laughed and, for a moment, all air of intimidation seemed to disappear from them. Until they’d looked at each other, then looked back at you, smiling like cats who’d just caught a mouse and intended on teasing the poor creature for a bit before sinking its fangs down into the rodent’s throat.
Vincent leaned in, close enough to make you flinch, close enough to raise a slight heat into your cheeks. “Because, my dear journalist…” he’d whispered, “Rachel and I have a very important favor to ask of you.”
The favor in question, as it turned out, was more so a job. The Phantomhive’s couldn’t be discovered as double agents or else their entire cover operation would be blown, so naturally they sought out second hand services. But your willingness to spy on their guests for them didn’t come for free. They’d never even dream of inferring that you work without compensation of some kind. So, in exchange for your services, they were willing to put in a good word for you at the top newspaper in all of London.
“Just take your pick of the columns,” Rachel had said with a sly wink. “Any one your heart desires, do this for us and it shall be yours.”
At first, it almost seemed, and felt, too good to be true. But you were tired of getting stuck with the inane, mundane, and oftentimes completely domestic stories handed off to you by the other men at the office. If you came in with a headline worthy story, it was always one of them who got to claim it, making you do all the work only to sign it off with their name, as if any one of them could ever even hope to be half the writer— half the detective— you’d been with half the time in the game.
It was tempting, though, what was it they said about temptation again? Something about surrending to it in case it never came your way again?
Perhaps that was the reason you’d been so inclined to accept their offer in the end. Because, if they really were the sirens you suspected them to be, this opportunity felt like a liferaft tossed out to sea. You’d already made the mistake of drawing too close to the beast. Now all you could do was grasp onto the first thing that could help you escape the icy waters unscathed.
So, from there on out, every event of theirs that you attended you made sure to stay diligent, deceptively demure as you shied away from the thickest crowds, wearing clothes that looked nice enough to blend in but not so extravagant as to be the center of attention, your hair fixed into an elegant, albeit modest updo, always seeming to be holding a glass of whatever alcohol was being served that night that never found itself empty. Although, unlike most of the other guests, that wasn’t because the servants kept coming around to refill it. You had to stay focused, so, raising the rim of the crystal to your lips, you merely pretended to drink, yet another way to blend in.
However, despite the fact your eye for booking someone as shady or salacious was a very sharp, very skilled one, there had been one guest that, no matter how hard you studied him, how carefully you watched, gave nothing— absolutely nothing— away as to why he belonged in the room among the rest of the guests.
You were supposed to be the secret outlier, you thought, and the man’s presence haunted you from one week into the next. By your second soiree as a spy, you’d already gathered ample information on the ones you’d deemed guilty, still keeping a watch on the others out of the corner of your eye while you continued trying to dig a deeper hole for the rats to fall in, but at the end of that night drifting around the manor like your own kind of phantom, you still came up empty on your mystery man.
Until the very end, just as you were about to head out to the carriage arranged to take you home.
“I must say, Vincent,” his gravelly voice sounded from a little further into the main foyer, the remnants of a laugh fading off the end of his words, “If the Queen knew her watchdog had such a sense of humor, I think she’d prefer to take you on as her personal entertainer instead.”
You stopped, pretending to search your purse for something as you listened in.
The Earl let out a devious chuckle of his own, going on to reply, “Yes, but if I did that, then who would be around to entertain you, Undertaker?”
You clasped your purse shut with a muted click and continued towards the carriage. For tonight, you had all you needed. And though it was just a title, barely even a name to know him by, the moment you got home and scribbled down the ten letters of Undertaker onto your growing web of information gathered from these parties, you could already sense that he was the key to the biggest mystery you’d been faced with yet.
***
Though you couldn’t see his eyes through the thick silver curtain of his hair, from across the room you knew— could practically feel it as a fresh wave of chills spiked up your spine— that Undertaker was staring straight at you. You stared back, lips slightly parted as your next breath caught halfway up your throat, his silent acknowledgment of you making you feel suddenly naked, vulnerable under his recognition.
He offered you a mischievous crack of a smile, all teeth, and a playful, waggling wave of his black-nailed fingers. You felt your cheeks heat, feeling startlingly self-conscious, though not entirely sure why, and turned to excuse yourself to the nearest washroom to collect yourself.
Staring down your reflection in the mirror, you reminded yourself why you were here. To investigate. To uncover. To expose. Not just for the promotion that had been generously promised to you, but for the sake of the common good as well. Or, at least, that’s one of the stories you’d started telling yourself to make your duplicity to all the people who you’d pretended to enjoy the company of a little less guilt-tripping.
Besides, the Phantomhive’s also knew you couldn’t resist a cause where injustice was being done, and while it sort of made you sick to watch this group of miscreants chatting and laughing like they’d never harmed the orphaned or the sick or the poor week after week, you knew, in the end, their evil would not prevail.
Resolute in your mission here once again, you exited the washroom, intending to migrate back into the lion’s den, when all of a sudden that familiar, bone-chilling voice sounded from behind you, making you flinch.
“You know…” Undertaker began, who’d been leaning against the nearest wall before pushing off with one shoulder to lessen the gap between you, the layers of black fabric he wore lightly billowing behind him with each heel-to-toe step. His arms were crossed, and his shadow began to creep over you, seeming as if it could swallow you up at any moment. But still he wore an amused grin like he was about to tell a charming joke and was simply awaiting the perfect moment to deliver the punchline. He continued, “The guest list of these parties changes every week, yet, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there are only ever two who get invited every single time…”
You had noticed that actually, keeping the little tidbit of information close to your chest, sometimes purposely acting like it was your first time attending such a gathering if you noticed the roster was entirely fresh, but he was right.
The only other person besides yourself who graced the Phantomhive manor on a weekly basis, other than the Phantomhives themselves, of course, was the silver shadow known as Undertaker. The man had been nearly as elusive and calculating as you had thus far, but now, it seemed, he wished to show part of his hand.
Undertaker cocked his head to one side, seeming to study you through the shaggy fringe concealing half his face like a mask, and said, “Sort of odd, don’t you think?”
And it really wasn’t his sudden and unexpected presence that had caught you so off guard. You were used to potential targets confronting you, whether to try and scare you off from a possible story they were at the root of or convince you there was nothing to see here. This, however, was different. Because the increased pounding of your heart and the sudden loss for words didn’t seem to be out of fear, but, perhaps, out of the kind of flustered intrigue that comes with finding a stranger very, very attractive.
“I, uh…” was all you had time to say before Vincent Phantomhive was approaching from down the hall, seemingly with something urgent to discuss with Undertaker, giving you a smile and a nod as if to say keep up the good work before he and his guest continued down the hall and disappeared around the next corner, all that black fabric fluttering in his wake.
You spent the remainder of the night distracted, off your game, growing frustrated with yourself and with him for having your thoughts interrupted by that shining scar that cut diagonally across his pale face, the lilting hum to his tone that had indicated something you didn’t even dare explore, even within the confines of your own imagination, and all those long strands of silver that looked like threads spun from moonlight.
Needless to say, you didn’t gather much intel that night, and you were honestly just counting down the hours until it would be time for you to go home. But as each guest departed, one after another, their carriages formally announced to be awaiting them, something else strange and rather off-script happened to you.
Normally, you were among the middle group to say your thank yous and goodbyes to the hosts before exiting through the grand entrance, heading down the curved double staircase before being whisked away back into the grey-toned city. But tonight, after watching the last of the guests thank the Phantomhives for their glittering hospitality and departing the manor, you found you were the final guest that remained.
You, and, much to your dismay, surprise, and general curiosity, Undertaker as well.
You were sure your carriage would be pulling up any moment now, and so you hung close to the doors to search out the horse pulling it through the dark. You hoped this served as an indicator you wished to be left alone with your own thoughts, but, alas, that looming shadow of a man who’d suddenly and quite unexplainably taken an interest in you was hovering by your side again like a crow waiting for you to drop some crumbs.
“Do you think it’s true?” he unceremoniously prompted, voice hushed to a low, sultry whisper, making the thin hairs on the back of your neck rise with suspense.
You cast him a glance over your shoulder, trying to act indifferent and completely unbothered. “Do I think what’s true?” you asked, an edge of irritation splicing through your forced boredom.
Undertaker breathed out a knowing chuckle, something from beneath his wide sleeves clinking and chiming together lightly before he applied more pressure to silence it. He then cleared his throat and said, “This place, they say it’s haunted, you know.”
“And?” you pressed, and though you were trying to make it seem like you couldn’t have cared less, your skin was crawling with the anticipation to know more, more, more.
“And,” he mimicked, leaning in a little closer to you, testing to see how far you’d let him invade your personal space, “do you think it’s true?”
You turned to face him, scrutinizing him now, a crooked mask to hide your true intrigue, wanting nothing more than to reach up and gently push his bangs away from his eyes just to discover what color they were beneath the curtain that so carefully protected that information. You wanted to trace the lines of his scars, especially the one wrapped around his neck like a collar, a chain, a reminder of something horrific he’d once endured, and learn the story behind every single mark.
You wanted to learn his name, his true one, not just his job description or whatever morbid title Vincent had given him as part of some kind of inside joke they shared.
You opened your mouth to say something— what, you weren’t entirely sure— but just then, the feeling in the air seemed to change, an energy charged in the small space between your bodies, the scent of a storm carrying on a breeze, an invisible electricity sparking through you, lacing through your bones and frizzling your brain.
“They say sometimes you can feel them touch you,” Undertaker continued, and for a moment, just a mere hair of a second, you swore you could see a glint of light shimmering from behind his bangs, a flash of emerald here and then gone again before your eyes could even register the color. “They say it’s heavy, and cold as ice, like a stone lifted from a freezing sea, the sensation coming and going as quick as a breath in a winter’s breeze…”
The first time his pale, cold hand had brushed against the dip of your waist it had already been too late. His long, lithe fingers had lingered there for but a moment, just long enough to allow the shape of his touch to drape itself upon your body, the memory of it a thrilling, frightening thing. But when you’d flinched away, drawn in a sudden, sharp gasp under your breath, he retracted. Still, despite the new distance put between you two, he wore that mischievous smile, his broad shoulders shivering with the containment of some kind of mean laughter.
It was then that your carriage arrived, the Phantomhives’ butler announcing this to you, but just before you could turn and leave, Undertaker said, “Remember, miss journalist, sometimes the answers to our biggest questions are found in the things we can’t see…” as he slinked back off into the dark, leaving you standing in the center of the foyer alone.
If you hadn’t seen Vincent interact directly with him just earlier that evening, you would’ve deduced that he was the very spirit he’d warned you of, but then, about halfway home as the carriage traveled over the country’s uneven terrain, you realized something even more terrifying.
You’d never told him you were a journalist. The Phantomhives had assured you that no one besides themselves were to know, lest your cover and this whole operation they’d gotten you involved with be blown.
It kept you up at night, his words, his scars, his touch. But now you had an entirely new mission, one that was all your own.
And that was to discover just exactly who, or perhaps, what, this man called Undertaker truly was.
***
Some time passed before there was another party, what with the celebration of the Phantomhives’ sons’ birthdays and the Christmas holiday falling a little under two weeks apart. But, with the arrival of the New Year of 1885 quickly approaching, you weren’t surprised when you received yet another one of the crisp, cream and gold colored invitation cards in the mail announcing a grand celebration event at the manor.
This would be the biggest crowd you’d hidden amongst thus far, though, surely, you thought, the Phantomhives didn’t intend for you to be working too hard on such an occasion? Besides, you’d already turned in the extent of information you’d been able to gather on their people of interest. As far as you were concerned, this case, or at least your part in it, was closed. They’d already assured you they’d hold up their end of the deal as soon as you chose your desired position at the new press company you’d be working at come the new year too. Now, all you had to do was sit back and relax as the hours ticked down until midnight.
At least, that’s what you would’ve been able to do if not for the incessant appearance of him.
All night, Undertaker seemed to trail you like a shadow. No matter how many times you tried to slip out of one room and into another unnoticed, tuck yourself within a new crowd, folded between different nobles, it was only a matter of minutes until you looked over and saw his pale figure swathed in layers of black. A few times, he even dared to give you one of those cheeky grins and teasing waves, as if tormenting you was his most favorite game, and every time you met the gesture with a huff of a frustrated sigh and a swift turning on your heel, heading off to pick at the many food options set up around the different rooms or grab another drink as a servant carrying a tray of them passed by, not pretending to sip this time but actually allowing yourself to indulge.
But you should’ve really known by now that showing your back and trying to ignore him was probably your worst bet at actually being left alone. He was like a naughty child, continuously doing that which would get him the most reaction or attention, despite the consequences. And, like the tired parent who would do just about anything to get the child to behave, you eventually caved in and gave him exactly what he wanted.
“What?” you asked, walking right up to him where he was leaning against a wall, your arms crossed and attempting to wrestle your features into a look of grim displeasure rather than fluster-fueled nervousness. It was like a spell had suddenly been released into the air once you two were standing face to face, your prior agitation slowly but surely melting away until all you could focus on was the way his silver hair caught the dim light and those scars that just barely peeked out from his collar and curtain of bangs as if too shy to properly say hello.
“Good evening to you too, miss journalist,” he sarcastically greeted, though you detected no hint of malice, merely an air of teasing charm. Instead of irking you that time, the sentiment made your cheeks heat. You pretended to cough and look away, hoping it wasn’t showing too clearly on your face. He gestured to the party encircling you both, an endless, overlapping barrage of laughter and conversation filling the room, and asked with a slight raise to his voice, “What a wonderful way to ring in the new year, don’t you agree?”
Frankly, you realized you were still far too sober to be in this situation right now, but when you searched the room for any more of those silver trays holding flutes of bubbling liquid, you found, for once, there were none in sight.
“Listen,” you said, lowering your voice despite the loud chatter that tried to drown it out, clearly still in the investigation mindset despite your earlier resolution to enjoy a night away from work, “let’s just stop with the smalltalk. Off the record, why don’t you just tell me what it is you want and why I have to be a part of it?”
When he found it appropriate to laugh at this notion, one of which you were sincerely serious about, you found yourself flaring more towards anger than intrigue. “What’s so funny?” you hissed, suddenly wanting nothing more than your own shadow to hide inside of when you glanced around and noticed a few other party-goers trying to listen in on your conversation. You were used to coveting and collecting gossip, not being the source of it.
But Undertaker seemed largely undisturbed by the growing sets of eyes landing upon your shared corner of the ballroom, flicking one black-nailed finger beneath the hem of his fringe to wipe away a tear of amusement before replying through a chuckle-laced breath, “You are, my dear. Simply hilarious.”
Wanting to turn and stalk away from him again, you resisted the urge, now determined to beat him at his own game, the rules of which you still weren’t entirely clear on. “Oh, so you like jokes then?” you baited, a smirk beginning to curve up on your lips now. “Well why didn’t you just say so? How about you and I make a deal then?” At this, Undertaker’s expression turned comically inquisitive, regarding you with a new kind of focus, his silence prompting you to continue. “If I can tell you something funny enough to make you laugh before the end of the night, you leave me alone after that.”
“And if you lose?” he posed, beginning to circle you until it was your back towards the wall instead, a hunter closing in on its prey. “What do I get if I win?”
You took a moment to think about that. You didn’t have much to give, if you were being honest. So you made the mistake of asking him, “What do you want?”
The smile that carved across his pale features then sent another one of those cold, electric shivers down your spine, and instantly you regretted allowing him so much freedom in choosing his prize. Tapping his chin with a finger as he pretended to sort through his options, he quickly and proudly settled on, “How about you have dinner with me?”
Aghast, you truly didn’t know what to say. Wanting to play it cool, not show how ridiculous the idea seemed to you when stated so shamelessly out of the blue, your throat bobbed with a particularly hard swallow and your voice shook slightly as you began to say, “That’s really what you want?”
Undertaker nodded, his smile not faltering. “That’s what I want.”
Not happy with the consequences but still clearly up for the challenge, you steeled your expression and agreed with a semi-confident, “Alright then. All I have to do is make you laugh before the clock strikes twelve,” and then I’ll never have to be bothered by you again. Should be easy, if he thought you were so hilarious without even trying.
However, as you searched the far corners of your mind for a joke or anecdote you thought would knock him out on the first try, you suddenly found your temporary confidence dying like an ember fading out in its hearth. You resided in the world of logic and facts, not entertainment and tomfoolery. You had a sense of humor, sure. Someone in your line of work had to, once in a while, lest they go mad when constantly being reintroduced to the bleakest parts of humanity.
Finally, you recalled a particular story that you’d nearly cried at upon hearing the first time, you’d laughed so hard. Surely, this was the one. You remembered it perfectly too, only, the further you ventured into telling it without so much as a twitch of a smirk appearing at the corner of Undertaker’s lips, the more you began to sense that you’d been lured right into a trap.
“Amusing,” he stated, monotone and mocking you. “But if you want to win, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”
You stood there, staring at him, seething, knowing this had all been according to his plan all along. You figured you could always just find a moment to slip away from the party and into one of the carriages already lined up outside before the new year rang in, perhaps voiding this odd and informal little contract you two had entered into together, but a part of you also knew that, whether a week or a month or a year from now, you’d find yourself faced with him again some way or another. Perhaps it was better to just keep trying even if only to prove to yourself you’d fought instead of running away.
“Oh, don’t worry,” you taunted, some of your indignance slipping through the vengeful grin spreading across your lips, “I’m just warming up.”
Undertaker tapped his wrist, miming where a watch would be, if he wore one, and said, “Tick tock… Only five more hours till midnight.”
And thus the game began.
***
Every hour that passed, with every attempted joke that was told without the desired reaction, the more dejected you began to feel.
And now, with less than half an hour to go, you’d already accepted your imminent defeat.
There had been a few times you could tell he was seriously having to hold back, the promise of a chuckle choked out behind his teeth or a burst of a laugh strangled somewhere deep in his chest before it had time to rise from his lungs. He had a lot more self control than you would’ve originally given him credit for, that much you couldn’t deny, but it almost seemed the brunt of his amusement came from how each attempt you made became more desperate, some of the words leaving your mouth shameful enough to make your mother faint had she been around to hear you say them, digging up the darkest, most shocking lines you’d ever uttered in your entire life.
You were a few drinks over the limit of caring if any of the other ladies in attendance that night heard you saying such depraved things in public, and to a man you barely even knew on top of it all, but one thing was for certain.
Undertaker was cracking.
You’d nearly gotten him on a few of the last ones, suddenly grateful for all the horrid things you’d heard the men exchanging and laughing about in the press office— another place you were used to acting like a shadow within. Though, even if you felt like you were maybe getting closer to winning, your dignity would lose regardless. You felt as if you were stooping to some unacceptable level you’d normally turn your nose up at, behaving in such an undignified way, yet the itch to prove him wrong and reclaim your pride was hard not to scratch, and right now there was only one way to do so.
“You know,” Undertaker said, only fifteen minutes to midnight, “I will admit, you’re really starting to make me regret entering the mortuary field and wishing I’d gone into journalism instead. Do your colleagues truly say such audacious things?” Just then he nearly made himself laugh, though you figured that wouldn’t count.
By now, you had a few cards left to play, having saved your best ones for the final hour, just in case, though that bank had nearly run dry. You had one last ridiculous tale left up your sleeve before you’d truly have to hang your head and admit defeat, and for a moment, you let hope get the better of you. It truly seemed this would be the one to best him, and as you loudly and, thanks to the several glasses of champagne flowing through your veins, very confidently delivered the perfect punchline, you counted the seconds until he’d inevitably burst with laughter and be forced to forgo his mission to unexplainably irritate you.
But he swallowed it down, dousing it with his next and final gulp of champagne, having drank nearly as much as you throughout the night, probably more, yet somehow unaffected, and as he sighed out a satisfied exhale, sans the expected howl of laughter, your expression of victory crumbled down to forlorn.
“Are you kidding me?” you confronted, clearly fed up— with him, mostly, but also with yourself— before you began stammering out a mess of jumbled syllables proclaiming how this entire thing had been rigged in the first place.
“Technically there’s still a few minutes,” Undertaker reminded you, nodding towards the grand clock adorning the mansion’s foyer. “Though if I were you…” he leaned in, so close his lips were practically pressed against your ear, his breath tickling the side of your exposed neck, “I’d just count myself lucky you didn’t wager a kiss at midnight in the case of your defeat.”
Between the warmth of the alcohol and the dizziness those words had just washed over you, you feared for a moment you might faint, your posture suddenly swaying before Undertaker instinctively reached out to help steady you, both his palms pressed firmly to your waist, reminding you of the night he’d tried to spook you with ghost stories and gotten a little too close for your comfort.
Only this time, you didn’t flinch away instantly. Instead, you allowed his hands to stay there for a moment, staring up at him with perhaps the softest expression you’d worn all night. You felt your mouth opening, though again found yourself unsure what you would say, when suddenly, faster than you were ready for, the chorus of counting down the seconds until the new year filled the room and startled you back to reality.
You pulled away from his orbit, smoothing down your skirts with your sweaty palms, and turned your gaze to the smallest hand on the clock, barely mouthing the numbers of the countdown until it was only ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…
“Happy New Year!” Undertaker chanted, shouting out with the crowd but looking straight at you, as if the celebratory words were meant for only one person in the room. He raised his empty glass your way, wearing one of those sinfully sly smiles, and said, now only loud enough for you to hear, “How’s next Friday at seven sound, hm?”
You could barely understand what he was talking about. You were already too far gone. All you could remember at that point was the sinking feeling of dread laced with a familiar sense of excitement, as if you’d just been the key witness to a very important event and now had the chance to give the first testimony of the case.
But isn’t this what you’d wanted all along? A way to get closer to him and uncover whatever it was he was hiding— because you knew he was hiding something.
Your initial intrigue had never really faded, no matter how much you’d tried to convince yourself you loathed him, that he was insufferable, more trouble than he was worth. But, then again, if it was answers you wanted, it should be easy for you to get them.
You’d always been good at solving mysterious events. How would solving a mysterious person really be any different?
***
You’d upheld your end of the bargain and joined Undertaker for dinner, which had been stranger than fiction but a rather good story to file away for your personal collection. Much to your surprise— and perhaps slightly to your disappointment— things had started and ended with dinner. Just dinner. You’d tried to pry, tried to get him to open up, learn more about him, but somehow he always found a way to seamlessly direct the topic of conversation back around to you.
You’d decided he maybe wasn’t so bad afterall, had even agreed to do it all again sometime. 
But now, a year later, there were no more parties. 
All that had been left in the wake of the once pristine and lively Phantomhive manor was ash and the crumbing, scorched remains that had outlasted the fire. Not even the children had survived, and though you’d only seen them a handful of times as their nanny had led them up the grand staircase by the hand to put them to bed just as the first batch of guests were beginning to arrive, it still made your heart twist with the tragedy of it all.
At least they’re together, you tried to console yourself as you stood before Rachel and Vincent’s graves, your previous hosts reduced to nothing but a matching set of stones sticking out from the cold earth. You wouldn’t exactly have considered them friends, per se, more so something closer to employers, but you couldn’t help it. You’d grown more attached to them than you’d originally intended.
“Do you think it’s true?” a familiar voice suddenly asked from right behind you, making you jolt and turn to face him. You’d already known it was Undertaker, yet, as you tried to meet the glimpse of green you’d once caught shielded behind all that silver, you still found a part of you was surprised to find him standing in the same graveyard, as if having completely forgotten he was, after all, a mortician. 
“Do I think what’s true?” you asked, a slow wave of deja vu rolling through your mind.
“That humans really go to a better place after they die…?” The way he said it, gazing almost longingly down at the tombstones as they lay still and heavy on the frost-laced grass, made you start to see him in a new light. He was holding a shovel in one hand. You realized he’d probably been the one to dig the ditches and then bury the couple six feet deep.
Instead of giving him an answer though, you instead turned your view back to the graves, reading their names, their dates of birth and death, and then, carved beneath the proof that there were indeed people sleeping beneath the slabs, the matching epitaphs marking the smooth stones.
“Potentia Regere…” you repeated, more to yourself than anyone else. “What does it mean?”
Stabbing the shovel’s sharp tip down into the ground, Undertaker simply stated, “Power to rule…” It was the Phantomhive’s motto, in a sense, the latin words appearing on the family’s coat of arms. You were just about to make a comment about how surreal it all seemed, the fact that something that quickly had become so commonplace in your weekly schedule was now no more, but then the gentle clinking of a mysterious sound you’d heard before interrupted your reminiscence.
“What is that?” you asked, searching for the source. When Undertaker gave you a confused look, you clarified, “That sound? I’ve heard it around you before…”
“Ah…” he answered, a small, sad grin cracking on his lips. Then he pulled a brassy strand of several lockets from beneath his coat, the mementos chiming together more aggressively as he dangled them before you. “That would be these.”
As if requesting permission to take a closer look, you shyly cupped your hands out before you, allowing him to settle the chain into your palms for further investigation.
“They’re beautiful…” you sighed, inspecting each one individually, reading the names spelled out in neat cursive scrawl, the different shades of the hair tied into simple loops and pressed beneath the glass. Some of the dates engraved went back far before you were born, and, though his age often presented itself as ambiguous, definitely far before Undertaker could’ve been in this business. Though, instead of inquiring about this curious detail, the journalist part of you always hungry for answers, for the truth, you just swallowed and said, “There’s so many…”
In reply, Undertaker offered, “Well, I’ve known the Phantomhive family for a very long time.”
You handed the lockets back to him, watching as they disappeared back between the many folds of black fabric, and then the two of you stood in silence before the graves for what felt like a long time, the only sound the quiet whisper of the winter breeze.
Without even realizing, you found yourself crying, crystalline tears welling in your eyes, sparkling on the edge of your lashes, and then rolling down your cheeks in pairs. You tried to stay quiet, as if that alone could hide the emotion from the man standing directly beside you. And he wanted to reach out the moment he’d seen the tears welling, toss his shovel to the side and pull you into his chest, just let you cry into all his dark clothing until you had no more tears left.
But he remembered how you’d flinched the first time he’d tried to touch you, withdrawing from his proximity as if it were a plague. So instead, he settled for reaching for your hand, which was clenched into a fist and trembling by your side. That time, you didn’t pull away. Just shot him a sort of terror-struck look before your gaze softened and you used your free hand to cover your mouth, catching the first sobs that escaped through your lips, even giving his hand a squeeze as if to help ease your own pain.
Sensing that, perhaps this time, his touch was actually offering you some comfort, he decided to chance gently pulling you into his side, one long, slender arm snaking across your shoulders and back, hand rubbing up and down your arm as your body continued to shake with sorrow.
“I don’t even know—” you began, voice cracked and broken as you sucked in panicked, gasping breaths, “why I’m crying. I mean— they were— I was— it’s just—”
I know, he wanted to say, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, hoping the message was still delivered despite being unspoken. I know, you’re in pain right now.
And I’m sorry.
Human lives were so fragile. The only thing more delicate were their emotions.
Once you were finally able to catch your breath and calm down a little, you seemed to register his touch and quickly, albeit much more elegantly than before, distance yourself from it, clearing your throat as you settled your stance across from him, unable to meet his eyes— or at least the space that they should’ve been— that time around.
“I suppose we won’t be seeing each other quite as often anymore,” you noted, trying to force a smile, but it just came out crooked and sad. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot but…” You paused, feeling yourself wanting to hold the rest of your sentiment back but then forcing yourself to say it anyway. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m glad we both skirted the edges of those parties before.”
Now you allowed yourself to look up and offer him a new kind of smile, this one bittersweet and almost apologetic. And he could feel you already trying to sever the invisible tie that loosely stretched between you two, the purpose of your shared proximity suddenly gone and therefore pointless.
You were just about to turn and bid him farewell when he spoke, more urgent than you’d heard him yet. He said, “Would you like to join me for some tea?”
You considered him, as if this were another one of his games, a riddle to solve. “Wha— Now?” you asked, as if it were the most preposterous proposition anyone had ever presented you with.
“If now suits you,” he said, trying to regain some of his composure, pulling his coat tighter over his shoulders as the wind picked up. “I can’t say it’s as grand as the Phantomhive manor, but where I live isn’t too far from here.” He smiled again, soft and soothing, as he continued, “Though, I can promise the quality of the tea is just as refined.”
It was his last ditch attempt at making a joke in the current situation and, over the more personal time you’d spent with him, you’d come to gain a new appreciation for his dark sense of humor, so you gave a timid nod and said, “Alright then. Lead the way.”
He dropped the shovel and started walking, you trailing beside him over the stone spotted hills.
***
Undertaker’s living space was indeed a far cry from the luxurious, spanning halls of the Phantomhive manor. It couldn’t even really be considered a house, as far as you could tell. It was, in all honesty, a mortuary practice that just happened to have a small kitchenette and an even tinier bedroom hidden behind a curtain in the back. You supposed it made sense when he’d said he didn’t live far from the cemetery, when that was his workplace. But you didn’t care right now. The tea in the mug between your palms was hot, the aroma sweet as the steam rose from the surface of the liquid, Undertaker generously leaving the small jar of sugar cubes on the table before you to scoop in to your preference.
He was sitting across from you, your legs nearly intertwined under the cramped table, Undertaker more relaxed while you just tried to stay within your own personal space. Again it occurred to him, your aversion to physical touch, and he took a moment to study you, as if tracing the features of your face beneath the thin black netting of the mourning veil or the intricate lace detailing of the collar of your dress— black, to match him for once— could uncover your truth to him, your past.
“Been to a lot of funerals in your time, I imagine…” you commented, suddenly overwhelmed by the pressing silence, the steady ticking of the wall clock unbearably awkward. “If I may ask, what made you choose this line of work to begin with?”
Undertaker took a sip of his own tea, which tonight was bitter and black. It would’ve surprised you to learn he usually stirred several cubes of sugar into his tea, no matter the strength or blend of it. Looks could be misleading, this you knew first hand from all the undercover work you’d done, as well as the many apparently innocent faces that had turned out to be gruesomely guilty. But also, on the opposite hand, some people really did show you exactly who they were right from the start.
You were starting to think maybe he was nestled somewhere in between.
“It’s a solitary kind of life…” Undertaker replied, masking loneliness under a grin. “I suppose, at the time, I was suited to it.” He gave a shrug as he raised the cup to his lips again, like that answer didn’t pave way for a hundred more questions.
“At the time…” you repeated. “Meaning, not any longer?”
You weren’t even sure what the purpose of that inquiry was. Normally, every question you posed was carefully chosen, hand-picked in order to serve a specific purpose that would paint a broader picture of the overall story.
Undertaker’s picture had so far just been one big canvas filled in with black, a few streaks of silver, and a flicker of green. There was no clear shape, no clear narrative, but suddenly, by slipping into something a little more specific, something to fulfill your own personal curiosities rather than that of straightforward facts, it was like you’d decided to take your own brush to an artwork you’d only ever been an observer of.
You were not a painter, but sometimes even an inexperienced hand could craft a masterpiece.
Undertaker’s smile didn’t falter, but something in the lines of his figure tensed, as if you’d shone a light into all that darkness expecting a gruesome beast, only to find there was something vulnerable living inside after all. Something genuine. Something lonely. Something you could relate to.
“How about you answer me something…” he began, pitching his weight slightly forward to lean closer to you over the table, his chin now resting in his palm. “You don’t like being touched…” At first, he said it more as an observation than a question. Then, after allowing discomfort to fill you during the pause, he concluded with a curious and perhaps even slightly sympathetic, “Why?”
At this statement, you felt yourself stiffen. Undertaker didn’t so much as flinch, just continued to consider you as if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve, working through every angle before making his first move. After a while, with you offering no answer or comment to this, he added, “If you’d rather not talk about it—”
Your throat bobbed with a thick, dry swallow, as if you’d just been caught for a crime you’d tried desperately to cover up, like the word GUILTY was branded into your forehead. Your mouth opened and closed and opened again, some excuse or alibi withering and dying on the tip of your tongue. Then you said, “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” You were absentmindedly toying with a piece of frayed lace off the hem of your sleeve, searching for a believable story to tell him that wasn’t a complete lie, but also wasn’t the entire truth either. But then you sighed, defeated, and looked him in the eyes, that glint of emerald peeking through, and admitted, “It’s just hard for me. I’m not used to it, it’s… complicated.”
The legs of his chair scraped softly against the uneven hardwood as he leaned in even closer, his arm draped over the surface, palm facing upwards, beckoning you to reach into it, to give him a chance. You glanced from his hand, a scar crossing over the love line etched into his alabaster skin, then back to his face, wishing you felt brave enough to take his invitation, wanting to, but finding the fear of physical contact swelling inside of you like a balloon that was one breath away from bursting.
It was so hard for you to trust. It always had been. Had only gotten harder since you’d entered into your current line of work, all of humanity’s ugliest sides revealed to you on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis. But what did you do when you got scared while chasing a story?
You felt the fear and you did it anyway.
So, hesitantly inching your hand closer to his open-faced palm, merely hovering there for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether this was some kind of trap or not, you finally allowed yourself to make contact, fighting the urge to pull back upon the first flinch of his fingers beginning to curl around your own.
Once his hand had completely closed around yours, it was as if all the tension gathered within your frame burst like a firework, the glittering embers giving way to something uncharted. Something new, and slightly nerve-wracking, but pleasant all the same, once you actually allowed yourself to enjoy it.
Undertaker stroked his thumb along the top of your hand, his long, cool fingers brushing delicately against your soft skin, and you felt your next exhale stutter, eyes threatening to well with tears for an entirely different reason now.
“Perhaps I can show you…” he said, the words merely a whisper on his pale lips, “that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
When you met his gaze then, it was like seeing him for the first time, both of his emerald eyes on full display, as if he’d just decided you were worthy of his trust, to know and keep his secrets the same as he seemed so intent on knowing and keeping yours.
There was still a small part of you that wanted to protest, that had the urge to pull away and put as much distance between you and him as possible. But that voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well now, distant and unintelligible. What took over was a voice you’d never heard before, one you didn’t even think you had, and all it was telling you was to allow yourself to fall. That he would be there to catch you when you did.
***
Your breath hitched before his fingers even made contact with your skin, eyes fluttering closed, like you thought not seeing would make accepting what was about to happen any easier.
“I’ve got you…” Undertaker murmured, the cold press of his palm finally reaching your cheek. He gave you a moment, patient with you while you allowed yourself to relax against his touch, your gaze slowly opening and glancing up to meet his eyes. Being this close, you came to realize they weren’t just green, like you’d originally thought, but laced through with a webbing of ambers and golds, a thin ring of teal rimming the edge of each iris. You’d never seen eyes like that before, dangerously entrancing, enticing, and it once again resurfaced the notion that the question wasn’t necessarily who he was, but what.
“See?” he smiled, not a hint of malice or mischief tucked into the corners of his mouth that time, only gentle reassurance. “I’ve got you.”
You placed your hand around his wrist, grip light, just to let him know you wanted a little more time to let this sink in. He was right. There was really nothing to be afraid of. Only, your quick-fire heartbeat still seemed to want to convince you otherwise.
There’s nothing to be afraid of, you kept repeating in your mind, nothing to be afraid of.
You let your view of him slip shut again as he slowly moved his fingers further back to lightly comb through your hair, finding the pin that had been holding it in place and pulling it free, your locks spilling down from the tightly wound coil of a bun that had been perched at the back of your head.
He’d never seen you with your hair completely down, every Phantomhive party that you’d attended making sure to tie it back, keep it out of your way, so you could stay focused on your job and not find yourself fiddling with it. He gently combed his fingers through it, disturbing a few loose knots, smoothing it down and laying it over your shoulders after removing the veiled hat from its place on your head.
“Such a shame…” he remarked, voice still low and soothing. “You’ve been hiding such beautiful hair all this time.” You remembered his mourning lockets, the different shades of strands that had been encapsulated behind the glass. You wondered if anyone would ever grow to love you so much as to always keep a lock of yours on their person. The notion made your lonely heart pulse with a dull ache.
Letting out a stuttering exhale, you now set your view upon the cascade of silver that framed all those black clothes of his, the strands almost sparkling under the low light as they shifted from white to grey and back again depending on how he moved. What you wouldn’t give to be able to carry a strand of it around, secured in a locket and resting against your heart, like capturing a sprinkle of stardust to call your own.
“Can I…” you began to ask, trying to swallow down the slight tremble in your voice as you gingerly reached one shaky hand forward. “Can I touch your hair as well?”
At this, Undertaker let out a silky hum of a chuckle, his long fingers finding the nape of your neck and resting there as he replied, “But of course.”
You let your fingertips brush against the silky silver, threading your fingers through and lightly dragging them down, not a single tangle or knot to be found. You wondered how long it had taken him to grow this much hair, how often he must have to brush it to keep it so pristine, how many others had admired or envied it the very same way you were now.
“Would you like to come closer?” he asked next, catching you a little off guard. You let your hand fall back to your lap, his returning to rest on his knee, and your eyes filled with uncertainty. Then he added, “Only if you’d like, of course.”
You scanned his form, unsure exactly what he meant by come closer, though, based on the way he was sitting, you could only really think of one possibility and the mere suggestion alone was enough to make your cheeks heat and your head spin.
The embarrassment must’ve shown on your face, because a quiet laugh trailed after his next exhale as he assured you, “If that’s too much for you you’re still welcome to sit by my side…” And then, knowing you had a habit of accepting challenges, he added on, voice sultry and only slightly sinister, “Though, if you’re worried about your skirts getting in the way, I’d gladly assist you in removing them and—”
“Oh, just hush for once, will you?” you cut him off, growing a little indignant and far more flustered than before. Even so, you still found yourself standing, eying his lap wearily as you approached, both hands curled into tight fists around your skirts, lifting them a little as you went to settle over the tops of his thighs, having to take purchase on his shoulders for balance halfway through assuming this position.
You’d never been this intimately close with another body before, not since you were very small and your mother had scooped you up in her arms and carried you off to bed, your little legs lightly wrapping around her waist and not wanting to let go, wishing she’d let you sleep in her bed to help keep the nightmares away.
But now, being at this age, in this body, and feeling the press of him as you relaxed with your legs straddling his hips, things were much, much different.
His hands brushed against your waist, hovering there before finally settling, giving you time to adjust to the foreign touch. “Is this alright?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper. “If you need more time, I can—”
“No,” you interrupted, your voice also quiet, forcing your gaze back up to his, as if to defy your hesitance. “No, this is fine. I’m fine.”
“You know,” he murmured, his lips pressed close to your ear, his breath fanning featherlight over the shell of it, and you could practically hear the way he was suppressing a smirk, “I must say, it really is a surprise how a woman as striking as yourself has gone this long without being spoken for. So which is it? Too particular to find the right partner or too spoiled by being overwhelmed with choice?”
You coughed out an abashed chuckle. “No, nothing like that…” you said. Then, falling more somber, “It’s more like… Being alone has just always been so much easier. I don’t have to answer to anyone. I don’t have to pretend. I get to do as a please whenever I please and…” You flashed him a guilty look. “I guess I never saw myself as the marrying type, so…”
Undertaker stared at you, all that chartreuse alight as if finally seeming to uncover what he’d long been looking for. Then his expression softened and he said, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Before you had time to think up some kind of rebuttal or rebuke, his fingertips were tracing the hem running up the side of your funeral dress, the dulled touch registering on your hips, then your waist, through your clothes, sending a gentle, ebbing wave of chills over your flesh, a delicate ghost of a gasp just barely sighed through your lips. His other hand came up to caress your neck, thumb brushing tenderly across your jaw, your cheek, allowing you time to decide you enjoyed it and sink deeper into his palm, the cool touch of his skin helping to soothe you.
And then, before you knew it, he was kissing you, taking the rest of your breath away as the hand that had found your waist began to roam, the careful path of his contact curving around to the small of your back, up towards your shoulder blades, your collar bones, down your arm to find the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, brushing against the faint thumping of your wild pulse just to feel the life humming from inside of you.
What surprised you even more was that you were kissing him back, leaning into the warmth of his mouth, chasing his tongue when he playfully tried to pull away, testing to see if you’d follow, if you’d try to seek him out once you got a taste. He let out a low chuckle, putting only enough space between your lips to look you in the eyes, see the way your pupils had blown wide with lust all from some simple touching and kissing alone.
“I wonder…” he murmured, that lilt of mischief stitched back into his tone, “if the other men who attended those parties ever fantasized about having you like this…” He then lightly took your chin between his lithe grip, slowly turning your view to face an old, dusty mirror perched against the wall, exposing the reflection of you straddling his lap, his hands touching you in a way you’d never let another man touch you before, and you felt your entire body catch flame, molten embarrassment welling from within the pit of your stomach and flooding up towards your head, the sudden, stifling heat making you dizzy with desire.
Undertaker sighed a puff of a laugh against the side of your neck before his lips found your throat, sucking a light bruise there, making something within you flutter, arousal flaring to life before settling to a slow, steady roll. And despite wanting to look away, shame halfway to choking you, you couldn’t tear your gaze from the view of your two bodies intertwined like this.
All this time, you’d thought it would be scary, being this vulnerable with someone, giving up that kind of control, but it wasn’t. It was like floating, rising from your body and leaving all the worry behind, allowing your world to become merely yourself, him, and the small, dimly lit room.
It was simple.
It was nice.
And, for once, everything just felt right.
But as his kisses became more messy, more urgent, and his hands were reaching under your skirts to knead at the bit of bare skin available on your upper thigh, his eager fingers hooking under the hem of your stockings, you felt yourself tensing, slipping from the moment as the fear of moving too fast flashed across your thoughts like a lighthouse beacon— just quick enough to warn of the oncoming danger that would befall you if you ventured too close to the rocky shore.
“Is this alright?” he asked, slowing down a little then, and you swore you heard something almost insecure flicker in his voice.
You took in a deep, grounding breath, nodded, and said, “It’s alright… I’ll tell you if it’s not,” and that was all the validation he needed to continue, his cool palms a relief against your heating skin, hands continuing to knead at the plush of your upper thigh, though a little more gently this time, fingertips nearly brushing against where you ran most hot and needy for him, causing a broken whine to escape your throat. Undertaker wondered if you’d ever heard yourself make those kinds of involuntary, beautifully obscene sounds before, if you’d ever pleasured yourself late at night once you finally found yourself alone, or if even the idea of that had been too much for you to bear.
He intended to introduce you to each and every one of your lovely, lustful notes tonight, wanting to discover just exactly what he could do to elicit specific moans or whines. You’d be upset with him if he told you his plan, surely, yet still, he couldn’t help himself.
Similar to how you couldn’t deny yourself a challenge, he had a habit of overindulging himself with his games.
“Wait…” you murmured, pulling away from the cradle of his chest just a fraction. “I want you to…” You swallowed, finding a lump in your throat that stuck like a dry pill, afraid to say what rested on the tip of your tongue. You looked at him through your thick curtain of lashes, almost feeling like you could cry again, so many intense emotions to face in a single day mixing together in your head. “I want you to take my clothes off…” The last half of your request all but withered and died into a pathetic whisper by the time it left your mouth, averting your gaze then.
Part of you expected Undertaker to tease you for your request, to try and rile you just to see the adorable look your face made whenever you were mad at him, but he didn’t. Instead, he hummed out a satisfied note, beginning to strip you of the many layers of your funeral attire one by one until all you were left wearing was your silky underclothes and stockings. He went to remove those as well, but you stopped him before he could, growing bolder in asking for what you wanted when you suggested he let you undress him first.
Unlike you, this was not Undertaker’s first experience with sex. It was, however, the first time he’d allowed someone to see all his scars in the fading daylight, usually preferring to hide them behind the shadows herded in by nightfall and the dimly candle lit rooms of London’s most high-end pleasure houses.
But he supposed this put you both on more equal ground, so he didn’t mind. Plus, he hardly thought you’d find them newsworthy enough to go around sharing to anyone who might ask. He also supposed, like you, he had some things that were complicated to explain too…
“Kiss me…” you sighed, your hands lightly settling back on his shoulders as you now stood mere inches apart, breathing in each other’s oxygen like the thick opium smoke that wastfed though the East End.
That time, neither of you seemed to hesitate. Hitching one of your legs up, a big palm splayed under the back of your thigh to keep it in place over his hip, Undertaker had your back pressed to the wall, the hard length of him that seemed to be growing more impatient by the minute nudging further into you until he couldn’t help but grind against your lace-clad core, pulling one of those delicate, delicious whines from your throat, swallowing it down into his own mouth and trading it for one of his choked-out groans as he pressed his erection even harder against you, both of you hungry— starving— for one another’s bodies by now.
You hadn’t even realized your hand had migrated down between his legs, just barely beginning to cup the bulge of him in your inexperienced little palm, until you felt him twitch beneath his underwear, suddenly gasping and going a little rigid with uncertainty again.
He was kissing you deep, the fervor of it all dying down a little once he sensed your hesitation. “Go ahead,” he panted, holding your chin between his fingers, searching your gaze, pleading with it. “Touch me. It’s ok…”
So you did.
You attempted to stroke what strained through the thin fabric until he just couldn’t take it anymore and reached under the waistband himself to free his cock from its confines, hissing through clenched teeth once it was in his hand, soon passed off into yours.
Truthfully, you were only half sure of what you were supposed to do. You’d heard some of the few ladies you’d grown close to occasionally share— or perhaps overshare— some of the details of their marriages, sex lives included, and whether they were bragging or complaining or just making a comment in jest, you’d picked up bits and pieces here and there throughout the years.
Whatever you were doing though, you seemed to be doing it right, because before long, Undertaker seemed to be losing any composure or control he had left. He braced himself against the wall with his forearm, hunched over you as a thin sheen of sweat began to break out over his pale skin like glazed alabaster, grunts and growls and groans slipping from his lips while you gripped him in your palm, hand sliding easily along his velvety length as more and more of his pearly pre-cum gathered and began to drip down the shaft.
“Fuck—” he swore, and for a moment, you feared you’d hurt him in some way, pausing and looking up at him with an apologetic worry tugging at your features. But then he was smiling at you, chest still heaving with labored breaths, but wearing a glow of pride. He’d meant it earlier when he’d said you kept finding ways to surprise him, but this was on an entirely different level. If he hadn’t already known what you did for a living, he would’ve guessed you hailed from one of London’s aforementioned brothels, the ones that only served the elite or those tied to them.
Though he was sure you still had some things to learn, he was glad he was laying claim to you first.
He’d be lying if he said he’d ever be willing to share you with anyone else after this.
“Don’t look so afraid, my dear,” he cooed, slowly beginning to guide you towards his tiny bedroom nook, your eyes locked on him, trusting he wouldn’t let you trip as you walked backwards, holding his hands to help steady you. “We’re only just getting started…”
Before you knew it, the backs of your knees were hitting the edge of the bed, you collapsing back to the mattress as Undertaker climbed atop you, all that silky silver hair creating a canopy around you as he admired the way you looked splayed out beneath him. It was too bad you were a fragile human, your years so numbered when compared to the countless ones he’d already lived and the countless more he’d experience long after you were gone. He wished there were a way he could keep you like this forever— so beautiful, so his—  but he knew that living souls weren’t as easily frozen in time as things like mementos and photographs.
If only he’d met you a few decades from now. Perhaps by then, he’d have found a way…
Before he could dwell on it for too long though, he became distracted with removing more of your clothes, the last shred of his lost somewhere along the short distance from the kitchen to the bed, and seeing you fully exposed to him now, presented in your rawest, ravishing state, it took his breath away.
He’d seen many bodies in his life, living and dead, only a handful of them on both sides that he’d truly considered stunning. But yours…
Yours was nothing short of divine. 
He wanted to touch every inch of you, learn your figure in a way he’d never forget. He wanted to know that, even long after you were gone someday, he’d still be able to remember the exact shape of your breasts, the raise of your ribs as you drew in breath and the dip of your waist, the soft curve of your tummy and the plushness of your thighs.
He wanted to be able to rewatch this night over and over again in his head, rewinding the film reel until it frayed, each and every frame already burned into his memory.
“Hey…” you spoke, quiet and concerned as you reached up to cup your little palm to his jaw, tracing the line of the scar that cut diagonally across his face by his cheek. “Is something…?”
Before you could utter the word “wrong”, Undertaker cradled his hand over your own, sinking closer into your touch now, soaking in its human warmth, and smiled for a moment, attempting to mask the melancholy behind amusement. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” he asked you, and it was then that any and all lingering uncertainty you had went out like candle flame swallowed by a strong breeze. You nodded, told him you were sure.
A part of you was still scared, but not of him. Just of the unknown.
Feel the fear and do it anyway.
You were choosing to trust him, but once you’d made up your mind about it, there was no going back. That’s just the kind of person you were, the kind of person he’d discovered you to be.
So, trying to help you further relax, he continued to reintroduce you to his touch, discovering the places you liked best and paying special attention there, earning more of those sweet, lilting mewls and whimpers that he’d quickly become so addicted to, until it came time for him to explore the most intimate parts of you, preparing you for what was to come.
“You’re beautiful…” you swore you heard him sigh, your pounding heartbeat drumming in your ears and drowning out the quieter sounds. As soon as he so much as brushed a teasing finger through your soaked folds, still careful to be gentle with you, you let out a choked cry, gripping his biceps for support, needing something— anything— to anchor yourself to.
“Just relax…” he said, voice low and soothing as he applied a little more pressure, spreading your growing slick further around, marveling at the way your sensitive little bud was already pulsing in pleasure, tight hole fluttering in anticipation. But you took a deep breath and tried to follow his instruction, allowing your body to sink further into the mattress. Praising you as he began to massage slow, skillful circles onto your clit, he said, “Just like that… So good, my beautiful girl…”
And then that thick, sticky heat was filling you from the inside again, threatening to spill out. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before and you didn’t want it to stop. For a moment, you wondered if this was all somehow some sort of very vivid dream, a fantasy, fearing you’d wake up to find you’d never even gone to visit the graves at all. But the way the sensation gripped you, body and mind and soul, was telling you otherwise, every nerve alight with the intensity of it all.
Warning you what he was about to do next might be a little uncomfortable at first, Undertaker slipped one of his slender fingers inside of you, causing you to wince at the slight soreness the sensation provided, but as he slowly pumped it in and out of you, helping you get used to the feeling, eventually you were wet enough that he could insert two, the stretch from his fingers alone causing a small squeak of pain to escape your throat, but still you didn’t want him to stop.
As he began to carefully scissor his digits inside your tight cunt he continued working on stimulating your clit to distract you from the discomfort. The mix of pleasure and pain was almost enough to put you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your neck craning as you felt the coil winding tight within your core threatening to snap. Gasping out a curse, legs trembling as the crescendo crashed over every nerve in your body, you came undone for the first time that night, the high that filled your veins mixed with the fading adrenaline making your brain melt into a hazy, sated state.
He was whispering something to you then, pressing gentle kisses along your forehead, your temples, your nose, your jaw, as his sweet sentiments were lost amidst the thumping of your pulse between your ears. You exhaled a shuddering sigh, eyes fluttering closed, feeling as if you could drift right off to sleep. But there would be plenty of time for rest later.
Undertaker still wasn’t done with you yet.
Sliding his thick cock between the dewy petals of your folds, he guided you back to the waking world, being the most tender he had with you yet. “Are you still doing alright?” he murmured, brushing a few stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. He was gazing down at you like he couldn’t even believe you were there, with him, like this, the angel he’d lured into his underworld.
You gave a feeble nod, gasping when you felt the tip of his cock catch on your fluttering little hole. In all truth, you weren’t sure how he was going to fit. You just hoped he’d prepared you well enough, though knew the first time would be the most trying.
“Just breathe…” he instructed, interlocking his fingers with yours, your hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. “Take as much time as you need. Just relax…”
As the first inch or two fought its way into your tight entrance, your body reflexively tensed to combat the pain. The stretch of him took your breath away, fragile, sensitive skin feeling as if it were about to tear to allow him more room, teetering on a razor’s edge of arousal and agony. But he was talking you through it, whispering reassuring praises into your ear, waiting until he felt your body adjust to him, rigidity melting away as he continued to pepper featherlight kisses across your skin, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed to until the sensation subsided.
Inch by inch, he worked his way deeper, and when you needed him closer, needed his chest pressed to yours to feel the stuttering beat of his heart, he obliged, scooping you up to straddle him again, both of you upright, face to face, him helping you begin to bounce lightly on his cock.
As the pace began to pick up speed, nearly every thrust into you had one of those melodic moans or lilting whines clawing their way up your throat, mouth remaining agape with silent cries as you felt yourself once again approaching that steep edge. With your head thrown back, neck exposed to him, Undertaker took the opportunity to suck a few more bruises into the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse, choking on his next growl as your cunt clenched around him painfully tight.
He gave one more harsh thrust upward into your wet heat, feeling you come undone, glistening arousal staining you both, before forcing himself to pull out, finishing no more than two seconds later as his warm, sticky seed spilled over your stomach and thighs, mingling with the sheen of your pleasure as it mixed between both your bodies.
Both of you were panting, shallow, ragged huffs fanning against each other’s skin as you slumped over him, completely spent, and he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close, never wanting to let you go.
He’d have to, eventually, but for now, he allowed himself to pretend you couldn’t be touched by things like disease or disaster or death, erasing your mortality from his mind, even if it were just for the duration he’d have you in his arms.
Suddenly, he was speaking your name, a gentle breeze of syllables leaving his lips as he rubbed soothing circles against your spine, coaxing you back to consciousness. Without lifting your head from his shoulder, all your limbs heavy, blood flowing slow and sweet as if your veins had been filled with honey, you nuzzled further into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent.
His question barely registered to you, causing you to mutter out a sleepy, “What…?” which caused him to quietly chuckle, feeling the light mirth rumble through his scarred chest.
“I said,” he repeated, “Are you feeling alright?”
You felt more than alright. You felt fantastic, but not in the loud, excited, energetic kind of way.
More like waking up after a long, much-needed sleep, still floating off the edge of your dreams, feeling tired but fulfilled.
Once the high faded, you were sure you’d feel the soreness, a dull ache already beginning to pulse between your legs, but you didn’t necessarily mind.
It would just be another reminder of him and the time you’d spent together.
And, truthfully, there was so much you wanted to say then. Like how you’d never thought you’d be able to connect with someone in this way, feel completely safe in their hands, even feel— dare you say it— loved.
But instead, all you managed in reply was, “I’m ok…” before you felt sleep swooping back in to claim you.
As you drifted off that time, you briefly wondered what a life with him would be like. If you’d eventually have to learn to call this curious place home, a cemetery sprawled across your backyard, a closet full of funeral clothing. Or if perhaps he’d be willing to trade some of his darkness for the pale light of your apartment, if he’d remember to water your flowers while you were at work and leave scraps out for the stray cats that came begging by your front door.
And if those within your circle— the ones who were always badgering you about when you were getting married or if anyone was currently courting you— would be surprised if you told them that, yes, you’d started seeing someone despite the numerous occasions you’d written off such partnerships as just not for you…
They’d surely have some opinions on the matter, and that would even be before they saw him standing at your side.
But let them gossip, let them talk, you figured.
You didn’t care what people said, what they thought. You just wanted to be able to see him again, to be with him again, and for a little while, at least, discover all the things fear had once convinced you that you’d never get to experience for yourself.
***
A few years after your first night spent with him, having had many more in all the time between, fate had called you away, choosing to relocate further up north once your mother grew ill, spending her remaining days by her side. Once she was gone and you found yourself back in funeral blacks, for some reason, you’d decided to stay. You’d written Undertaker, of course, and for that first year apart the back and forth correspondence had been quite regular.
You awaited his letters with a childlike giddiness, excitement unfurling its wings within your heart whenever a black envelope sealed with shining silver wax appeared among your mail, already beginning to tear it open before you’d even gone back inside from retrieving that day’s delivery from the mailbox down the hill from your late mother’s home, the house you now called your own.
You’d sit down to write him back the moment you finished reading the last word of his looping cursive scrawl, elegance and sharpness somehow occupying the same space.
But then, after so much time away from London, away from the life you’d grown so accustomed to, you’d found yourself growing lonely. Only, this time, instead of the dull ache your former solitary life had nurtured within you, the pain was now a knife’s stabbing edge, carving a hole out in your heart until it nearly became too much to bear.
Until you’d eventually met someone. Another man whose hair was just beginning to grey at the temples, yet nothing like Undertaker’s silver shine, and whose eyes were a deep forest green, not the startling chartreuse of your former lover’s gaze. 
Six months later, you wrote back to London to inform Undertaker of the wedding that would be held in the spring. He’d congratulated you, though was glad it was only on paper— if he’d been forced to fake a smile and sweeten his words to you in person you would’ve known it was a lie, seen the heartbreak etched onto his face as obviously as one of those jagged, shining scars— and after that, the flow of the letters slowly came to a halt.
You had ten beautiful years with your husband until death’s kiss touched him, leaving you a widow and, once again, alone.
By then, the north had become so small, its claws closing around you until it began to resemble a prison, a cage.
You fled, returning to London, unsure whether you were running from things you wanted to forget or towards a flame you thought you might rekindle.
But in all that time away, you’d gotten married. Perhaps it was unfair to assume Undertaker hadn’t done the same.
However, once you found him, grateful the funeral parlor was still right where you’d left it nearly fifteen years ago, you entered the shop, expecting to be greeted by a man who was all at once familiar to you and also not, surprised to find him just as you’d left him like an image out of an old photograph.
You’d expected time to have touched him, run its fingers through his hair, turning silver to ivory, leaving the first signs of laugh lines cupping his smile and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, similar to the ways it had begun to touch you. The sight should’ve brought you comfort but instead you found yourself feeling…
Uneasy.
The years had passed for Undertaker as quickly as the season’s had changed for you. But as you inched, slowly but surely, towards the winter of your life, there wasn’t even so much as a veil of frost creeping in to cover him.
Somehow, he had remained exactly the same, no matter how many days, weeks, months, or years went by.
You’d planned to smile and say something like, “It’s been a while, so I understand if you don’t recognize me,” but what came out of your mouth instead was a gasp and, “You’re—” before Undertaker stopped you.
“—Just about to sit down for some afternoon tea,” he filled in, his grin widening as if he’d been expecting you. And then, before you even had a chance to process the theories that were beginning to blossom in your brain, each one more ridiculous and paranormal than the last, he asked, “Would you care to join me?”
Your mouth hung open, any and all remaining questions dying on your tongue, a few sputtering squeaks catching in your throat before you closed your lips, cleared your throat and said, “Alright then.”
The time you spent sitting at that little table, legs nearly intertwined once more as you sipped at your cup of Earl Grey, two cubes of sugar stirred in, made you feel like no time— not years or over a decade— had passed at all since you’d seen him last.
Nothing had changed— truly nothing. Not his looks or his humor or the way being around him just made you feel calm.
He’d been in the middle of regaling some amusing tale to you from while you’d been away when all of a sudden you realized your eyes were welling with tears. His bout of laughter died down to a stark stoicism once he noticed, leaning forward, reaching out to rest his hand over yours, the familiarity of his cool touch only making more tears race down your cheeks in shimmering pairs.  He asked, “My love, whatever is the matter?”
You choked on a sob, gave his hand a squeeze. “I just missed you…” you admitted, trying to smile, though it just came out crooked and sad.
With his other hand, fingers partially warmed from holding his cup of tea, he lightly brushed away your tears, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, soothing you until your sobbing subsided.
Then he said, “I’ve missed you, too… In more ways than you can even imagine.”
You felt a new wave of sorrow threaten to wrack through you. Something akin to guilt. To shame. To mourning the life you could’ve had if only you’d come back sooner. If only you’d stayed.
“But please,” he continued, gazing upon you with concern now. “If you’re weeping on my behalf, don’t. Now that you’re here, we can just pick up where we left off… A human life is only so long, after all…”
You looked at him, half confused, half afraid, and he almost told you then. Told you that he wasn’t like you, wasn’t burdened with the fragile shortness of a mortal life. But he didn’t.
He wanted you to ask first. Wanted to hear you say the words you’d been wondering since the very first night you met.
And you would, eventually.
But for now you just wanted him to hold you while you finished your tea and try and make up for so much lost time.
***
Twenty years later, you were unmarried, plagued by the illness that had claimed your mother, and had long given up tracking down shocking stories to fuel your own morbid curiosities.
But you were not alone.
You’d remained in the funeral shop, though made several more cozy additions to its decor over the years— a couple little houseplants dotting the windowsills, your mother’s cookbook placed up in the cabinets of the little kitchenette, lace hems and embroidery on the pillowcases fluffed upon the freshly made bed.
This place had become home before you’d ever even made the decision to stay, though perhaps that was more due to Undertaker’s proximity than anything else.
Even as your joints grew stiff and your movement became sluggish, your hair greying and your eyesight failing, Undertaker still remembered to remind you how beautiful he thought you were, how much he loved you, how you’d always be his most favorite girl. He’d dance with you by the light of the moon, leading you in a lulling waltz as he hummed out a melancholy tune. He’d carry you to bed when he found you sleeping in a chair, whatever mystery novel you were reading open face-down on your lap.
To experience love in this way was the greatest gift either of you had ever received, the devotion binding at times, yet there was still one last secret you had to uncover before you didn’t have the chance to anymore.
It wasn’t until you were nearing your life’s end that you finally asked him, “What are you?” and he actually gave you the truth.
“So you’re the dark cloaked figure who comes to guide souls into the afterlife, are you?” you joked after he’d given a surprisingly detailed explanation of what he was— what he’d been, before he’d defected— and what he’d continue to be no matter how long he tried to hide behind the mask of the eccentric funeral director. You coughed out a weak chuckle from where you lay tucked into bed, reaching out to run your rigid, wrinkled fingers through his long silver locks. Dreamily, quietly, as if only to yourself, you muttered, “I should’ve known…”
“I wanted to tell you…” he admitted, “Before, I mean…”
“No,” you said, “it’s better you didn’t. I don’t think I would’ve understood back then. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”
Now, with your death so imminent, learning his identity actually made the thought of your final breaths more comforting. Because you now knew dying would feel like falling asleep in the arms of a lover, gentle and safe. Protected. Cared for.
And when that fateful day finally came to pass, it was Undertaker who claimed your soul, wanting to be the first and last person to lay their hands on it, not intent on allowing any of those dispatch drones to touch it with their sharp tools and sterile indifference. 
He dressed your body, laid you in your coffin, and dug your grave. Though it wasn’t in the cemetery among all the other headstones. It was right outside the kitchen window, where your houseplants continued to grow, the sun rising to shed its soft golden light upon the room through the eastern window and bathing the place in deep amber as it lowered below the horizon in the west, your favorite place to sit and drink your morning tea and read in evenings.
Losing you was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but whenever he was feeling lonely, he’d wander out and look down at your name etched into the smooth, pale stone, read your dates to himself, reciting them like a prayer.
You had been so much more than just an epitaph, once upon a time, but at least now Undertaker could come visit you as often as he liked, and tucked beneath his coat, pressed safe behind the glass of his lockets, was a strand of your hair, a piece of you he could carry with him for the rest of his days.
***
(A big thank you to @anxious-chick for your request! I hope it’s ok I sort of took your concept and ran a marathon with it lol, but once I started developing some plot I just got really into it and couldn’t help myself haha. Thank you for being so patient with me as well, I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.
Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading. I’ve been wanting to write for Undertaker again for a long time and I’m glad this opportunity presented itself. Hope everyone has a good day and remembers to be kind to themselves. See you next time <3)
109 notes · View notes
pop-roxs · 1 year
Text
omgg late valentines grelle x reader fic!! :3
this is like my second ever attempt at fic writing and my first time posting my work so please be easy on me 🙏
(this fic is now on ao3! check the rbs if youd like to check it out)
Tumblr media
category: hurt/comfort
ship: grelle x reader
word count: 1,206(i wrote more than i thought oh my god)
reader is gn!!!
Tumblr media
Valentine's day is a day for couples to express their love for each other through chocolates and cards. It's a day for crushes to be confessed, and for friends to be cared for. This seems like the perfect holiday for Grelle. But she would say the opposite. Especially now.
It had been a long day at the dispatch, and frankly she was tired of seeing all the healthy and happy couples prance about the halls hand-in-hand. Upon arriving home, she threw off her coat and opened a bottle of wine, finishing about half of it in one go. She could cry if she cared. She just wanted the day to end.
William had been insistant on giving her as much overtime as possible. She would've enjoyed it, if it weren't sitting at her desk in her office, filing paperwork for what seemed to be an endless amount of hours.
It was almost midnight now, as she glumly walked over to her couch to sit down. She was exhausted, staring into nothing as her mind drew blanks. She hadn't even gotten chocolate. Not a single card. Not from friends, and she definitely didn't have any secret admirers. Why would she? Nobody at dispatch actually liked her anyways.
And so she sat there. For about a few minutes, until she heard very incessant knocking at her front door. She grumbled and ignored it. But then by the third round they were practically banging at her door, to which she finally decided to answer whoever wanted to visit her.
"...Y/N?" She stared at you, baffled, wondering why the hell you would be here. "Why are you here? Especially at this hour?..."
You tried to give her an answer, but you were panting so hard, your hands at your knees, trying desperately to catch your breath. "I'm sorry, Grelle, just... Give me a moment..."
She nervously stared at you as your breathing slowly calmed down, and this gave her a good minute or two to inspect your appearance. You were still in your uniform, but you were very much not dressed in a way you could present yourself. Your hair wasn't combed, and your laces were almost completely untied. It's almost as if you ran all the way to her apartment.
Once you finally managed to (mostly) calm down, you looked up at her, speaking in an urgent tone. "Grelle, I'm so sorry, I know I haven't seen you all day. I kinda skipped out on work today. Again, I'm sorry."
"Darling, just tell me why you're here. It's almost midnight. You should be asleep."
"And so should you." Grelle stopped talking after you said that. She let you continue. "I was gone all day because I..." You were afraid to say what you were going to say next.
"I was... Shopping. Looking for the right gift. For you." You looked away and held out a box of chocolates shaped in a heart, with a spider lily and letter taped to it. Grelle gasped quietly upon seeing it, staring at you for a minute. She gently took the box from your hands.
"Y/N, dear... Why did you get me this?" She looked up at you, biting her lip. She was afraid you were teasing her. Why in the ever living hell would you get her chocolates, anyways? And go out of your way to give them to her?
"Because."
"...That's it? Just 'because'?"
"Ok, well, I guess it's deeper than that." You stood up straight, fidgeting with your nails. A blush crept onto your cheeks.
"Well then? I'm waiting." Grelle stood leaning on one leg, her hand on her hip, the other holding the chocolates you gave her. She looked at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised.
Your eyes darted around nervously. Her apartment, the floor, the door, the hallway, anywhere but her face. "I... Well, it's not that important, really. I can tell you some other time. It is rather la-"
"Tell me."
When Grelle spoke to you with that stern tone, you shut up and finally looked into her eyes. You stalled for an incredible amount of time. The longer you waited, the more impatient Grelle became.
"Well, if you're not gonna say, I'll just go to bed." She started to close the door, and you panicked.
"W-Wait! I'll tell you." She stopped closing it, giving you one last chance to explain yourself. She kept her hand on the doorknob.
You closed your eyes as you braced yourself for what you were about to confess to her. "I like you."
Grelle's stern expression softened slowly after you said that. She looked at you in disbelief. No, this wasn't true. You were messing with her.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
When she said that, you immediately opened your eyes to return her gaze. You could tell that her eyes were beginning to water, but she was trying to hold it back. That look hurt.
"What? No! No, I'm not. I wouldn't joke about something like that, Grelle." You looked at her sympathetically.
She stared at you in thought. Her cheeks began to burn with a red color. She kept staring at you for what almost felt like forever. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure."
Grelle couldn't hold it in anymore, as a few tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked at you silently, biting her lip, her eyebrows upturned. You immediately began to worry when she started crying, fiddling with your hands, not know what to do.
"Oh my god, Grelle, I'm so sorry! Are you ok? Did I say something wrong?"
She then quickly started to wipe her tears away. "Goodness, dear, I didn't mean to cry in front of you... This just isn't really believable right now."
"What do you mean by that?" Your heart ached further with her statement.
It was now Grelle's turn to worry, because when she saw your painful expression, she began to feel guilty. "Well... Nobody likes me. Nobody's ever liked me. You know how people treat me at dispatch. I just thought... I wouldn't guess that someone as pretty as you would bother with a woman like me."
"Grelle..." You took a few steps forwards, before wrapping your arms around her, resting your forehead on hers. "Please, believe me when i say this. I love you. I don't just have a small crush on you, or just think you're cute --although that is still true-- I genuinely love you. I don't think i could ever get over that without telling you."
Grelle continued to cry, as she returned your hug, still holding the chocolates. "Darling.. You will never understand how much this means to me. I've been pining on you for so long, I never expressed it since I never knew someone was capable of loving me."
"Please, never believe that lie again." You moved to press a sweet kiss to her cheek, silencing her worries. She looked at you, and her eyes were so full of emotion, sincere and unadulterated affection.
"Come inside, I have some wine we can drink. I would love to share these chocolates with you.♡" Grelle loosened her embrace as she led you into her apartment, to which she spent her best Valentine's night with you.
Tumblr media
bro i wrote this at like 2/4am tf
439 notes · View notes
cherry8maiden · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Anyone else think these two badass maids should kiss?
Just me?🫣
Tumblr media
And then there’s Ran-Mao
65 notes · View notes
fanfictionsworld · 6 months
Note
can i request a very shy and timid reader with sebastian in heat and some bdsm elements in it?
OMG guess how back back again,its me sorry for not answering on time nursing school is killing me right now but i have some time so here you go.
Okey this is 17+ thats the first time i put that sing in so yeeha for this request especially.
Enjoy
FEM reader just so you know.
Tumblr media
Okey first of all your shyness is big turn on for him even outside of his heat.
But now when he is in heat he goes to beast mode.
When it first starts you just kind of do not no what to do with overwhelming affection from him not to mention that everytime you cuddle something seems to be poking you.
Sebastian as always will put that shyness aside for you so you feel more encourage to help him with his heat problems.
Once of course your comfortable he will first go down on you.Enyoing the smell of your pussy and jucie that will cover his face when you cum.
Be sure that there will be biteing and claws almost coming out to scratch you.
You will be choked,slaped and dumbed down on his dick.
He will use this opportunity to mock you,teas you,be mean to you.
Telling your his little slut,that your pussy is made to take his cock and that he would not trade you for anyone in this world.
There will be all sorts of positions that he will try with you and if you do have any request he will gladly indulged them for you.
In his time of heat his favorite position that he will probably put you is the one missionery one wanting to see all of your face and expressions that you make.
He will probably be very fast and do it very hard.
He will make you orgasam that you will probably lose your ability to speak and just mumble some stuff.
After he is finished he will carry bride style to the bathroom wash you and after he washes you he will change the sheets and he will put you to bed to sleep where you will be snuggle into him.
621 notes · View notes
almondmilkcleanser · 1 year
Text
B L O O D P A S T R I E S
Tumblr media
characters / fandom ; f!reader x sebastian michaelis - kuroshitsuji
tw ; begging ; dominance ; dirty talk ; breeding ; nylons/tights ; praise kink? MINORS DNI
word count ; 3k - I got carried away okay!
a/n ; this is my first ever smut fanfic so I’m nervous! I hope you enjoy! feel free to request a character in the comments.
buy me a choco chip ko-fi ?
✧ lost, are ya ? click here to go back to the main menu
Tumblr media
so I’ll paint a million roses on your skin in pigments tainted blood red ill write your name all over the moon so I know our love will live in mystery after we’re long gone
“Yes, My Lord.”
Those words echoed in your head back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. How you tried your best not to roll your eyes day in and day out at the senseless drabbing from a child. 
You owed it to Ciel, of course. But you were growing tired of his brattish fashions. Everyone seemed to jeer and laugh at his childish bickering except you. If it wasn’t for Sebastian, you would have fled a long time ago. 
“See to it that dinner arrangements are up to my expectations, Sebastian.” he snided.
“Yes, My Lord. As you wish, a Butler must exceed every wish and desire of their master.”
You could hear Mei Rin’s ears blowing steam from across the room. Your lip twitched at his comment, and Sebastian’s crimson eyes danced your direction. Your hands grew cold and your heart raced in your ears. What did he see that you didn’t? Was it as obvious as you thought it was? By the fading smirk across his lips as he walked away, you felt a sigh of relief. 
Nobody knew that in the months since you’ve occupied the Phantomhive Manor, you’ve developed a hard-wired crush on Sebastian. You studied his poise, his mannerisms, his. . . “aura”. You even took it upon yourself to spy on him one day while he was helping Ciel get dressed. Outside of his bedroom, your maid uniform barely concealing your sacred areas as you bent over to peer into the crack of the doorframe, you watched him.
Everything seemed to be normal, until it happened. 
You saw Ciel’s eye, glowing a pigmented sapphire as Sebastian’s glowed a violet red. His mouth extended, revealing fangs of a demon as he smiled triumphantly. Ciel’s sad eyes focused on the floor as Sebastian dressed him in his evening attire, a hint of unspoken pleasure riddling across his face.
You let out a small gasp, only loud enough for you to hear. Or so you thought. Ciel paid it no mind, but Sebastian’s yes darted straight to the door, shutting it closed like magic. It caught you off guard, causing you to stumble to the floor! You covered your mouth, gathered your bearings and flees the hallway as fast as you can!
But you felt watched ever since that day. When you were alone in the hall, when you were outside in the garden, even when you bathed, you felt watched. 
But it was something about Sebastian’s mystery that. . . turned your senses completely on. You would take in his movements, his voice, his posture, and keep them in a small sector of your mind that was unlocked night after night. 
Your whines would echo his name till you fell fast asleep, and the looming presence would vanish. The cycle repeated itself, but you never wanted to stop. It got to the point that, unconsciously, you would try to get in his way, whether it be with help in the kitchen or with a stray black cat, just to eat him to say your name. And that would ring in your head until your legs buckled under the weight and your hands filled with your juices. Your heart would even ache for him to taste you, finger by finger. 
“Y/N? Y/N? Are you listening?”
You snapped out of your fantasy, coming back to reality with a sharp shove. You were standing in the Grand Hall with Sebastian, Mei Rin, Finny and Baldroy all peering at you with curious glances. 
“Hm,” Sebastian cleared his throat, returning to his solitary piece of paper.
Oh heaven’s sake. your nervous hands trembled at your sides as he continued reading off his list. Everyone returned their focus toward’s Sebastian while yours affixed to the floor.
“Finny is to tend to the garden, Mei Rin to the cleaning, Baldroy to the kitchen and- ah- yes-“ your eyes snaked back to Sebastian, only for his ruby eyes to peer directly through you.
“The young master wants a special Pâte Brisée (french pie crust) tonight for his pastry desserts. A shipment of supplies will be arriving in the back. See to it that they 
get unloaded and then make your way to the kitchen for prep.” Was he serious? You couldn’t possibly carry all of that yourself!
“That will be all. I trust you all will execute your tasks to the Master’s satisfaction.” Wait, he wasn’t changing his mind?!
“Yes sir!” everyone shouted, scurrying in different directions to prepare for the evening. Was the Lord expecting company? Ugh! the lack of clear communication in this place was driving you insane!
Watching the door’s close, you turned back to see everyone was gone! With a frustrated huff, you hurried to the back of the manor, already contemplating a plan in your head as to how you’re going to unload flour, and salt, and sugar, and fresh butter. 
With a sigh, you felt your shoulders weaken already at the thought.
————————-
Coming to the back, your jaws dropped at the crates of baking supplies already unloaded to perfection. There was a crowbar next to a box of flour that seemed to have the top lifted already. You were thankful the hardest part was over, but now the harder part was beginning.
You dug in the crate, hoisted a sack of flour over your shoulder, and lightly jogged to the storage chamber outside. 
You fetched the storage key from underneath your blouse, fastened it into the lock and helped yourself inside. Once inside, your eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting surrounding multiple supplies, peering corner to corner for a spot to place this ridiculously heavy bit of flour! Your arms shaking, you found a clear area to create a new pile of stock, but before you walked back outside, you saw a raspberry-colored Phantomhive bunny rabbit toy carefully stuffed between two barrels.
Odd. You thought, crouching down to retrieve the rabbit. It took a few tugs, but once3 you were able to pull the rabbit from its smushed crevices, you exclaimed for joy!
Click!
What was that noise?! Was that the door! Who must have locked it!
With the bunny still in your hands, you turned back to the doorway, your heart racing in your ears. Then, out of nowhere, a cool breeze crept up the back of your neck. Your hairs stood on edge! This was a carefully constructed storage facility, why was there a sudden breeze!
“Oh, Y/N, it seems as though you’ve fallen short of completing your tasks.” That voice, the same voice that was woven with dark silk echoed in the storage house. But- where was-!
“That just won’t do for a Phantomhive employee. Tell me,”
Suddenly, a pressure pinned you down against a large crate, causing you to drop the rabbit toy at your feet. You shifted your body in a failed attempt to stand to your feet, but the pressure only increased to keep you still. The invisible force grew heavier until you could feel a pair of hands hold your arms behind you.
“Sebastian, you have to let me go so I can finish!” you pleaded, crossing your legs as best as you could to prevent your dress from hiking further.
“Oh, that just won’t do. You see, Y/N, I know you have been performing at a suboptimal level for a while now. And I can’t say that the Master will be too pleased that one of his workers are causing the ship to sink.”
“T-that’s not, true.” you shaking my disagreed. You didn’t want to admit that in Sebastian’s passing you would drop a plate or burn your hand or slice your skin by mistake. Not in this, vulnerable, of a position.
“Well,” Sebastian sucked his teeth in a teasing manner, his physical form manifesting in a tuft of thin black smoke. He leaned his torso down to press you onto the crate further as a smile spread across his face.
“If that isn’t the case, then just what has you so distracted?” you could tell in his tone that he knew the answer all too well.
“Because by the sounds I’ve heard from your bedchamber,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling the rim, causing your stomach to drop to your toes.
“It seems like I’m to blame, M’lady.”
“That’s not-!”
“But I’ll tell you what,” he continued on, ignoring your flustered disposition. Your body grew hot and you were more than certain he could smell your essence building from how you were position. You tried to push the looming fantasy out of your mind, but the way Sebastian’s knee was softly placed between your legs, faintly rubbing the crotch of your pantyhose, your mind was beginning to melt and your legs beginning to grow weaker.
“As I am already bounded to the Lord by Contract, I cannot be a fully devoted servant to you. But,” his crimson eyes glowed fuschia in the darkness, his fangs protruding from his lips in a smile, “I only have one request, and I will let you go.”
He took your silence as a sign to continue.
“Repeat what you said last night. And don’t be shy. I’d just like to hear it again from those lovely lips of yours.”
“Wha- No- I can’t,” you tried to shift again, but Sebastian was just too strong. He suckled on your ear, humming gleefully at the sight of you fighting his constraints like a delicate white rabbit in the clutches of a wolf.
“And why not?” he hummed, “You sounded euphoric as you reached your peak. Please, let me hear it.”
You knew he wasn’t going to let up if you refused. Your pride had slithered to the ground the second Sebastian pinned you down. With a hard swallow, you looked ahead in the darkness, your cheeks burning the same intensity as your quivering sex.
“Sebastian, p-please,”
“With more confidence, lass. The same- exact- way.”
You swallowed again. His demanding tone turned you on more and more without you fully realizing it. You wanted to please him, and you had a feeling he knew you did.
“Sebastian,” you sighed, embarrassed at what’s about to leave your lips. “I want to feel you inside of me. Please make me yours again and again for as long as you’ll have me. I want to feel all of you. I can’t wait any longer!”
The air was silent. All you could hear was your heart. And suddenly, you were turned around to face Sebastian’s. You two were once in the darkness, but like magic candles began to light themselves in a circle around you two. He leaned down to meet your gaze, his crimson eyes burning right through you just like he did in the Grand Hall.
“Is that what you wish, My Lady?”
Shyly, you nodded your head. You could feel him opening your legs inch by inch, causing your pantyhose to rip further up the inseam and splitting at your crotch.
“Well then, I am but a humble servant. And your wish, is my fulfillment.”
Roughly, he pressed his lips to you in a hungered kiss. If you weren’t mistaken, you would have assumed he wanted this the same way you wanted this moment to happen. His tongue found yours and the two danced together for what felt like an eternity. Your nipples hardened under your blouse and your sex began to throb, aching for his touch.
You dreamed about this moment for months and to have it actually happen placed you on a high that you refused to come down from. No amounts of Opium could match this.
He broke the kiss, spittle landing on your chin while you caught your breath. Holding your gaze, he snaked his hand up to your blouse and gave your breast a firm squeeze, rubbing them in small circles as his gaze continued to plaster on you.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
You didn’t want him to see how much you enjoyed it, but you didn’t want to disobey him. He smirked down at you, squeezing your breasts admirably. He took your nipple between his fingers and gave them a soft pinch, sending your back arched in the air and your legs attempting to close as your clit began to throb, aching for more.
“Ah ah ah,” he teased, his voice rumbling in a chuckle.
“Is this not what you wanted?” he asked, his teeth pulling off his glove tantrically slow. You could see his fangs sinking into the fabric and a part of you wish it was you he was sinking his teeth in.
“Y- yes, Sebastian.” you breathed. You watched his free hand trace his clawed finger down your blouse downwards between your legs. Without much effort, his ripped the crotch area of your pantyhose, sliding them down to your ankles. With another rip, he completely split them in two and returned to his original spot between your legs. Without announcement, he sunk his fingers into you, rubbing your clit with his long, sim thumb. Your essence slicked down his wrist, creating a moist, squishing sound as he prodded in and out of you.
“My my, you were more ready than I thought you were.” he retracted his fingers, suckling each one like your juices were remnants of a raspberry sorbet. His fingers met your quivering cunt once more, rocking your body back and forth, grazing against your sweet spot continuously. You covered your mouth, your moans muffled behind your hand as his slender fingers grazed your sensitive areas completely. He enjoyed the sight under him as your breasts rocked up and down, your cunt gripped against his fingers pleadingly, and your moans escalated under its muffled restraint.
He grew tired of not hearing your moans and instead lowered down to kiss you again. Your moans reverberated in his mouth and it was if it fueled his carnal desires. Quickening his pace, he pushed back and forth with a goal in mind. Your juices dripped down the crate and onto the floor, splashing off his wrist and staining his pants. Your hips lifted in the air and he continued his pace, not letting up to aide you in reaching your orgasm. Your groans turned animalistic as your peak grew closer and closer. He smiled in the kiss, biting down on your lip as he prodded one final time until-
“Mmh! Mmh!” Your legs jerked as your body turned to mush underneath him. Your fluids seeped down your legs as your orgasm hit its peak. With your legs still trembling, Sebastian smiled triumphantly. Not giving you a breather, his engorged member rested at the entrance of your begging, throbbing sex. He looked back into your eyes, those same soft red eyes now glowing a lustful crimson undertone.
“Tell me its mine, lass. and I’ll give it to you.”
Your forehead broke out in a sweat as you tried to catch your breath. You didn’t say much, but instead pushed your hips down onto the head of his shaft. From the head alone, your hips trembled at its thickness, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He watched you bounce up and down on the head, its skin glossing with your sweetness.
“Hmmm,” he smiled, “Is that a yes?”
Looking up at him, your lustful gaze meeting his, you nodded in approval.
“Yes,’’ you sighed, “Whenever you crave me, have me. I can’t take it anymore. Please give it to me~”
Sebastian smiled at how much of a dribbling mess you were becoming at the mere feeling of his dick. He pinned both of his wrists above your head and smirked at the sight underneath him.
“You’re so beautiful like this. If I could paint a picture, I would.”
Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he pushed inside of you inch by inch. Your begging insides clamped onto him every passing moment, tightening its grip on him to a point that his jaw clenched to stifle a moan. It’s been so long since you’ve felt a man inside of you that it almost felt like losing your virginity all over again. But neither of you could wait, you wanted him to move!
His hips rocked back and forth at a steady pace for a few moments before he gathered his rhythm, thrusting in and out of you like a long lost lover. He loosened his grip on your wrists and placed both of his hands on your hips. As he claimed every bit of your insides as his your moans echoed off the walls and down his spine. His name repeated off your tongue like a forbidden ritual that only the two of you knew that you recited again, and again, and again. You didn’t care how carnal you sounded, you only cared about Sebastian inside of you. Your juices coated his girth from base to tip, constantly replenished with a fresh stream after every thrust.
“Ah! Sebastian!” You begged, your heartbeat quickening in your ears, “Come inside of me! I beg you!”
“Is that what the Lady wants?” his thrusts intensified as he was close to his peak. He didn’t want this session to end but he knew he had to attend to the other employees. But he knew this would not be the last time he would ravage you.
“Y-yes, Sebastian!” Another moan danced across your lustful lips, “Fill me up, please!”
Without a response, Sebastian planted his lips on yours and pumped hungrily inside of you. Your mind melted out of your ears, the sounds ringing around you and your legs succumbing from the pressure, you felt another orgasm reaching its peak as Sebastians hot seed coated your womb and interlaced with your sweet nectar ounce by ounce.
He seemed to be just fine but you were catching your breath underneath him. Withou removing himself from you, he brushed the droplets of sweat off your brow and kissed your forehead, smiling as he usually would when he executed a task to perfection.
“Ah, I almost forgot,” he kissed your neck, his devilish smile spreading from cheek to cheek.
“You and I are actually in charge to make the Young Master’s dessert.”
“And by the taste of you, I think a raspberry cream pie would be just perfect for the evening.”
3K notes · View notes
neliaafx · 11 months
Text
her authority
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairings: edward midford x female reader
# 18+ non-explicit content, nsfw, mentions of dom! reader, sub! edward midford, female reader
author’s note: writer’s block 🤝 smut . to those who requested, please wait patiently—i’m still forming ideas🕷️ignore the grammatical errors xoxo
Tumblr media
there is something about edward midford that always make you keep in your toes, the kind that makes you curl and just get intoxicated with his alluring manly features which makes you want—desire it.
greed, pride, and lust; in this era, women are considered to be the object of desires that are to be lured and give themselves while clothed with dignity, not yet stained with impurity, to the men who will answer and help with their problems—that was the practice, that was supposed to happen.
edward midford knows that hidden secret of yours, yet he fell for your trap.
edward having a puppy crush with you is not of a problem to anyone. in fact, his family even encouraged him to court you into their family—they’re not well-known for being greedy of power nor wealth, but why pass up the opportunity to be acquainted with someone who is high in nobility? a phantomhive and a (last name) within their blood is beautiful and a music to francis’ ears.
for years, you really didn’t mind being engaged with the not-seemingly passive man like himself. he was fairly fun to be with, a cute and romantic one that will always bring you flowers during his visits.
the blush that always appear on his cheeks whenever he gazes at you, and how he wants to hide the feeling of being so flustered with you. edward’s feelings always fuel whenever you didn’t reject his advances, his mind was always full of you—it distracts his work everday.
the way you always call him “honey.” right after you two are married, he was supposed to be the one who can keep his cool down and not make a fool of himself. of course he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you sometimes, but it seems like that he’s always putty in your hands whether you talk, look, and even be within in his presence.
it was very amusing to see him be such a pretty thing in your hands. just look at his beautiful piercing emerald eyes that always glimmer whenever you talk to him, you touch him, and how touchy you always become because you’re so fond of him. you want more, you want to see more of his reactions.
at times, he was getting bold and bolder. he managed initiate a hug to you that surprises you, he doesn’t mind the embarassment when his family teases him. he just wants you, just want your touch and everything. he was so handsy when he hugged you, and luckily you didn’t get disgusted or uncomfortable.
the first kiss you shared, it was not a peck, it was a full deep passionate kiss that you strongly have experience with while he doesn’t. the movements of his lips were obvious that it was his first, and he was inexperienced so much that it made you coo. so you took control and show him what a kiss should be with two lovers who love each other so much.
the sharing of saliva makes him splutter in embarassment but he doesn’t pull away. his breathing become ragged and heavy when he saw that you’re not stopping. your hands, that are used to caress his cheeks like a good wife would; that are used to fix elizabeth’s hair like a good sister-in-law would, is now sensually rubbing his hips like you’re in control.
his pride was slowly crumbling down when he realizes he was at your mercy, he choked a moan and whimper when your tongue explored his mouth while your eyes that used to hold such a lovable and warm glint, turned into something more dark and sinister. it made his body tremble. he wasn’t used to having women dominate him, he could only have that experience with his mother who was very stern and frightening.
the dark blue tie he had was already thrown to the ground, buttons in his expensive suit that you gave him were already unbuttoned thanks to your skilled fingers which he didn’t even notice—too lost in the intensity of the kiss you just shared.
you two didn’t even get to be in the bedroom, and suddenly you’re in the hallway making out like messy drunkards who are out of control. edward was feeling so light-headed, it was too overwhelming for him. he bit his lower lip and eyes rolled back when your lips slowly drag over his neck, sucking the pulse point that just sent tingles all over his body. he was supposed to be the one taking care of you, not him!
your eyes fluttered open when you looked up at him, he was wearing such a desiring and arousing look—like he’s giving himself to you, it is so embarassing for him. he can’t resist, you grabbed the belt situated around his waist; you pull him to your bedroom as your delicate hands pushed him down on the bed.
he breathes heavily, it was so out of character of him. he was clearly stronger than you in terms of physical strength, but maybe because your touch is a drug addiction to him. your eyes traveled in between his legs, cooing at the obvious arousal that pooled that made him feel so humiliated.
he grasped and tugged your hips down and pulled you—that made you sit on his crotch. you quirked an eyebrow at his bold action but grinned amusedly when he felt the sensation of the pressure that pressed against his embarassing arousal.
this is the first time he experienced the taste of flesh.
he gasped and whined, his eyes were already pooled with tears because of the uncomfortable sensation of his pants and undergarments that are hugging his crotch, he wants to remove it. that’s right, you’re his wife. you’re supposed to please your husband, right? your tongue slowly drag over your lower lip, your face was so close against his while you slowly grind your hips against his that made him deliciously moan—oh he was making you aroused so much.
“keep making that face, sweetheart. i’ll take care of you, m’kay?” you cooed while your sly thumb and index finger slowly unzip his pants, granting his wishes for a release. your lips begin to press against his again, swallowing the whimpers his mouth erupted when your fingers touched some of his sensitive spots around his intimate area—it was so adorable that you turned your husband into like this while he was always deemed as the responsible one,
he surely didn’t mind making such a dirty mess all night ‘til dawn.
251 notes · View notes
bugsyfics · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
✰ [ kinktober '23 m. list ] ✰
-> welcome, you've been granted exclusive access to this October's spiciest VHS collection. indulge in your most daring fantasies and become immersed in sinful stories that will leave you gasping and crying out in pleasure terror!
quick a.n.: yes, hello, i am back after a year and some much-needed rest from social media. I apologize for being gone so long, however, I've finally had some time and inspiration to write (yay!!) and im so excited to share my love for kinktober once again. You may also notice a new addition of the SW fandom
⚠︎ disclaimer: this is 18+, so mdni. Also, these dates are subject to change, but I am making it my upmost priority to see that all of these will be completed (there will not be a repeat of last year, I promise)
▸ 10 : 04 | ❝ VIRGINITY KINK ❞
STARRING: SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS & READER
Tumblr media
▸ 10 : 08 | ❝ PERVERSION ❞
STARRING: NOZEL SILVA & READER
Tumblr media
▸ 10 : 13 | ❝ ORAL FIXATION ❞
STARRING: DARYL DIXON & READER
Tumblr media
▸ 10 : 18 | ❝ THREESOME + SIZE KINK ❞
STARRING: ANAKIN SKYWALKER, OBI-WAN KENOBI, & READER
Tumblr media
▸ 10 : 22 | ❝ SEX TAPE + AGE GAP + SQUIRTING ❞
STARRING: RICK GRIMES & READER
Tumblr media
▸ 10 : 27 | ❝ OVERSTIM + PRAISE ❞
STARRING: UNDERTAKER & READER
Tumblr media
▸ 10 : 31 ???
Tumblr media
Ready to press play?
Tumblr media
222 notes · View notes