#sebastian michaelis fanfic

[rinaxtaros]

[08] | RED.

Summary: You and Sebastian are left to scout out the circus.

�� undercover (adjective) involving secret work within a community or organization, especially for the purposes of police investigation or espionage.

"Are you ready?" The tall frame of the red and yellow striped tents casts an ominous shadow over both you and Sebastian’s beings. The faint glow from the flickering candle lights scattered throughout the grassy fields provides a dim luminescence. You glance at the taller man, taking in his features. Somehow, the yellow-lighting which would always make a regular person look absolutely dreadful, makes Sebastian look more alluring.

You try not to linger on the thought too long, though.

"Let's not keep them waiting too long.” You grumble, falling into pace with Sebastian. The demon had wasted no time in your arrival, as he had almost immediately switched into his feeble past-butler role. His love for theatrics was the most human thing about his existence.

Ciel had sent you and Sebastian join first as to give the younger boy the upper hand when coming the next day. Ciel wasn’t too good at acting on the spot so in his words, he wanted to be “prepared in a manner that the Queen herself would appreciate.”

“Hurry now, [y/n].” Sebastian calls sensually, shooting you a smug look. You scoff, not realising how you had fell behind. Each step causes the heel of your shoe to melt into the softened soil, causing your journey to be less than satisfactory.

“Stupid shoes…” You murmer, pulling your feet from the ground in a less than elegant manner. Who do you have to impress here? Some foul human involved in the disappearance and probable murder of young children? Even as a demon you know these people are worth less than the disgusting muck coated against your heels.

The performance had put you in a positively sour mood. Sebastian’s love for felines clouded his judgement and he put his head and the tigers mouth. Dwelling over the situation continues to make it feel less and less real and more like you’ve pulled the story out of your ass. You’re sure Ciel would shout at you for telling him lies if you reported this back to him.

However, the little stunt has now landed you in the medical tent and behind the iron privacy bars. You’ve unfortunately come to terms with the fact that Sebastian’s stupid decision has allowed you to gain closer insight to the dynamics behind the scenes.

"You seem quite alright even though your man got bit by a tiger, ye?" The ginger ringleader, Joker, laughs as he observes the sour look on your face. Sebastian had been acting coy with Beast and the medic, claiming he was just too fascinated with big cats.

You look over at the man who was a little too close for your liking and size him up. His face paint was starting to fade, probably from the layer of sweat he produced running around the circus to calm the patrons.

You flick your hair over your shoulder as you look back at your companion for the night, "He likes the attention.”

Sebastian’s eyes remained close, which you’re sure is on purpose because the stupid expression pisses you off to no end. Ciel would be absolutely fuming if Sebastian had pulled that stunt while he was here, so you know he’s aware how stupid it was.

In between conversations, the busty tiger tamer you now know as the stage name Beast had promptly beelined towards the busy doctor. She was complaining about her prosthetic leg and how it was starting to lock up on her. Sebastian was quick to ask a few questions as prosthetics aren’t an openly common practice within your part of England.

You ignore how Joker burns holes into your body. He was unabashedly checking you out, but you paid no mind. You understand his questionable approach to your identity seeing as your clothes aren’t far off from your normal attire. Joker observes how maid-like your dress is but you surprisingly didn't dawn any of the usual frilly material or awfully tacky headband. The rest of the crew recognise how connected you and Sebastian seem to be seeing as you two seem to have silent conversations with each other just by looking at each other. To them, however, you look like a pair.

Sebastian had maneauvered himself beside Beast who perched herself onto the desk in front of the doctor. He was quick and no one within the tent had realised what Sebastian was doing before he lifted the girls leg and subsequently exposed her panties to everyone looking at the two.

A pregnant pause falls over the tent. You watch, eyes darting between every member of the circus.

One beat, two beat, thr—

Swiftly, you’ve placed yourself to the side of the commotion. Before anyone could blink, Beast screams and grasps her whip. Joker and the chirpy blonde one are crying out for the commotion to stop just as quickly as it’s started. However, in the middle of the chaos, Sebastian smiles.

Truthfully, it is quite amusing to watch Sebastian barely break a sweat when avoiding the onslaught attack.

All fun must come to an end, though.

"I'm afraid we must get going now." Your hand grabs the whip as it flies out in front of you. No one had noticed the your quick manoeuvre across the room until you placed yourself in the middle of the chaos. Beast stutters to find the right words as her whip is pulled out of her hands and dropped to the dirt floor with a dulled thud.

Sebastian waves his free hand as a goodbye gesture as you’re currently grabbing the sleeve of his other hand.

Sebastian follows without much of a fight, but he mumbles something as Joker comes running after you both. Surprisingly, he’s able to keep up with your fast-paced walk.

"Hey! Wait a minute, won't ya?" He asks hopefully, extending a hand "Those are some gymnastics you have there lad, and you can move fast lass!”

Sebastian places a gentle hand over your own. You freeze, staring at him. The fist you created on his blazer unclenches and falls to your side.

"I would offer you a place but-"

"Oh, really, you're not having a jest?" Sebastian smiles kindly "I am getting quite sick of my current master...” Sebastian pauses, looking back at you with a devious smile.

You furrow your brows, that good for nothing is up to something!

“My partner too." Sebastian lifts his hand to smooth down your hair. Your words get caught in your mouth as you realise what stunt he is now pulling. You try your best to smile through the irritation as you know Sebastian is enjoying the whole act.

Joker smiles brightly "Great! We'll have auditions tomorrow!"

Sebastian bows "You don't mind if I bring a friend along?" Joker shakes his head "If he's half as good as you I'm sure he'll do well!"

"I'm sure he will.” You add, cutting off the conversation. As much as you could care less about the conversation you just wanted to cut Sebastian’s fun off quicker. Knowing your luck, he was going to start holding your hand.

Ugh.

“Your behaviour was reckless, Sebastian.” You scold Sebastian as you mindlessly walk back to the Phantomhive manor. Your footsteps fall in sync, each crunch, snap and step sounding simultaneously. A pregnant silence falls between both you and Sebastian. The sound of the night surrounds you as the sounds of the wildlife settle in the bushes encasing the pathways.

“Reckless? How so?” Sebastian humours as he continues to walk, unfazed by your annoyance. You clicks your tongue and your roll your eyes as you glance at Sebastian. Of course he has that cocky smile on his face.

”You got your head stuck in the tigers jaw, then you had to go and reveal Beast to her team.” Sebastian muffles a laugh, eyes flicking leisurely to his right to look down at you. You stare back with frustration glazed over your pupils. 

Sebastian laughs as he realises you won’t step down from the petty argument.

“It was just an accident, love.” He smiles, “You aren’t jealous are you, sin of Lust?” He teases as he raises his gloved hand grasp your chin, effectively stopping the two from walking and you from turning away. Automatically, you turn your body to get a better look at the flirtatious demon, hardening your gaze as you grasp at the hand on your chin. You try to push it away but his grips on stronger. His tongue flicks out to wet his lip, lowering his head to close the gap between them. He enjoys watching you struggle.

”Don’t flirt with me, Michaelis.” You spit, “A typical man, aren’t you? Using sexual advances to get out of an argument.” You take the chance to plant your hands against his chest and push. Sebastian falls back a few steps, spluttering.

“I am not jealous.”

With that, you turn on your heel and begin to walk away; leaving Sebastian in the dark of the night.

As Sebastian stands in the dark and watched your figure disappear into the night sky, he decides that he quite likes this dynamic.

[luchigeon]

that scene in chapter 11 made me chuckle, so I had to draw it ! from the excellent Coattails by @pain-in-the-butler

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏

(𝑺𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

⚠️MDNI. 18+ ADULTS ONLY⚠️

🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler

Relationship: Sebastian Michaelis/CielsCousin!Reader

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis; Reader

Summary: You visit your dear cousins manor in the countryside to get a well deserved break from the humdrum exhaustion of the city after an illness. What you do not expect from your quaint retreat is the start of an exhilarating illicit affair with the butler. But taboos mean nothing when lust love transcends human norm.

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut; Sex; Vaginal Sex; Eventual Smut; Neck Kissing; Kissing; Gentle Kissing; Surprise Kissing; Making Out; Implied Sexual Content; Phantomhive manor; Reader-Insert; Victorian

A/N: not beta read. We die like men.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1: 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔲𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔯; ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

“My lady,” you hear a soft voice calling you, “My lady, you must wake up, it is morning.” You open your eyes. The sheets around you are soft, freshly laundered. Your head sinks into the large white pillow, and you take a deep breath that turns into a yawn and turn over to go back to a more comfortable position. But the voice rings out again. “Now, that won’t do at all...” You twist your neck toward the direction of the voice. The sound in meats your ears like the gentle beat of a raven’s wing. Shielding your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, you squinted to see a dark black figure stood before the opened curtains around your bed.

Sebastian Michaelis; the imposing shadowy butler of your cousin, Ciel Phantomhive who’s estate you were staying at while you visited the countryside after your illness. This man’s efficiency left you in awe. Managing an entire household with three other servants, an old butler, and a young master who was still very much a child. His roles extended far beyond that of an ordinary butler, to that of baker, chef, driver and even a pseudo parent. Additionally, with his smooth, silky, jet-black hair and contrasting pale skin he looked rather like a vampire – one from the cheap romance novellas you would pick up from the bookstore to keep yourself entertained. You definitely wouldn’t mind him sinking his teeth into your neck. You had been inappropriately lusting after the man ever since he greeted you into the Phantomhive manor. He was gentle and helpful, and you had found yourself yearning for the feel of his hands upon your skin. Sebastian seemed to sense your longing and took it upon himself to torment you with his sly touches at every opportune moment. He took your hand to help you down stairs, tied your shoelace if he thought it wasn’t done up well enough kneeling in front of you, he even lifted you and took you to bed one night when you were feeling especially tired from the day’s activities. You had been mortified to have been treated in such a manner but when he had leaned down and kissed your ear whispering a soft goodnight you exploded on the inside. Ever since then, you had been thinking the lewdest thoughts about the man- who would often catch you staring at his back and would wink at you and laugh when you turned red. And often your fingers would slip between your thighs, to rub over your mound below in an attempt to quell the aching need.

“Your maid seems to have caught a slight cold my lady.” Sebastian speaks drawing you back to the present. He smiles. “I hope you don’t mind me standing in for her this morning. I wouldn’t want you to exert yourself so soon after having recovered from one illness.” His eyes crinkle and he tilts his head while his smile grows wider.

For a moment, you stare at him and then understand the implications of his words. Still not fully awake you muster up the energy to ask, “But, who is to help me with my dressing?”

“I’m pretty sure you will find me capable enough, my lady.” He says, still smiling. You sit up quickly. Heart pounding in your chest.

“Sebastian!” you expel in admonishment “Surely that would not be proper!”

Sebastian prowls over to the the edge of the bed and leaning down, says, “Would it be as improper as this my lady?” He plants those smooth pale lips onto yours. They burn hot against your cool pink ones. You feel his hand caressing your cheek. Your heart beats hard in your chest and you sit rigidly unable to process what is happening around you. Is Sebastian really kissing you? Are his lips truly on yours? 

But before you can fully digest what happened, he moves away. “Are you awake now my lady?” he asks. You touch your lips feeling incomplete without his warmth and nod. “Good.” He says. “I want you to be awake for this.” He smoothly takes off his black coat and lays it down on a chair, then his vest, then as he unbuttons his shirt he climbs onto the bed. “Impropriety has been a recurring thought in your mind, has it not my lady?” he says to you. He kneels down in front of you. You feel your heart beat – loud enough for the whole mansion to hear.

“Wh– whatever do you mean, Sebastian?” You feign ignorance, trying to ignore the loud pounding of your heart.

“Don’t be coy my lady.” He smirks, his body almost enveloping you on the bed and playing with the string on the neck of your nightgown. He pulls it – untying the bow that your maid had made the night before. So smooth. His movements flow like a stream of water. Almost inhuman. You look into his eyes knowing that however improper it may be, you wanted the man. You wanted him in the basest way that a human may want a human. He cups your cheek in his hand and you can’t help yourself, you move forward to feel his burning lips against your own once again. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and wraps his arm around your torso pulling you closer. You pull off his already unbuttoned shirt. The heat of his body penetrating your thin nightgown. He presses his body against yours, kissing you, a hunger in his movements like no other you knew. His fingers reach your breast and he kneads it roughly. His tongue seeks entrance at your mouth. You open up readily, moaning softly at his touch. He tastes spicy yet at the same time sweet; it reminds you of chocolate a rare taste for such a rare man. Wanton moans drip from your throat and you just want more and more. Your head feels heavy—intoxicated. 

You close your eyes and pull him closer. He’s lean, yet you can feel hard muscle under the skin. Sebastian holds the bottom of your nightgown and looks at you with heavy lidded eyes.  “Are you sure about this my lady?” For a moment you think you see them flash a dangerous red but shake it off seeing them their regular brown.

You close your eyes and nod, biting your lower lip. It is what you want. Damn all the restrictions of society. Damn it all. It was your body and here was a man who made it writhe and respond on its own accord – without your control. You wanted him to feel you, touch you, make love to you. And you knew, he would appreciate you to the fullest – you would bloom like a flower beneath his touch.

A/N: This was originally posted on AO3 back in 2017. Since then much time has passed and i wasn't feeling the motivation to continue this series, but now with this resurgence of Kuro I would like to take this series up again. I am posting it here now, with changes made and small edits. Just to make it a better read while still keeping my original story intact. I hope you've enjoyed. As always, Likes and Reblogs are much appreciated and Comments will earn you kisses.

Masterlist

[nifftydeary]

[coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic]

Distracted pt 1

Part 2 ->

Sebastian Michaelis x Fem!Reader

THIS IS SMUT MINORS PLS DO NOT.

CW: “Dear/Darling” terms used, oral f!receiving, 🐶style, multiple climaxes.

You’re the new maid at the Phantomhive manor and we’re going on your third day of training. You being a single woman with not much history of romance you figured being a maid of a high class family would be a breeze. Freedom after hours, beautiful housing, etc. Until you met the head butler, Sebastian and God is he gorgeous. I mean this man is the most attractive human being you’ve ever laid your eyes on and he was basically perfect as what he does. No flaw or hiccup in anything he did, it was almost scary. He couldn’t have been human. Even him looking at you from a time to time throughout the day would send a wave through your body, causing you to feel a little needy. You held out though, not wanting to be distracted on your new job. I guess you understood why that red headed main Mey-Rin was so clumsy especially around Sebastian.

You were going about your daily tasks, the laundry for the house, nobody touched the young lord Ciel’s clothing other than Sebastian himself and honestly you were thankful for that, less work for you to do.

Today was difficult, given you haven’t even touched yourself since before you had started your new line of work, and you had a fairy high drive that you used to keep up with on a nightly basis. But given the new environment and close quarters to your co-workers you held off and damnit was it getting rough. Sebastian had manually shown you a few things to practice for the up and coming ball that were to be held in the manor and he wanted to make sure you knew how to dance properly, it’s unlikely you’d be asked but there was always a chance he needed you prepared.

-flashback to that morning-

Sebastian walked over to you with his soft smile he always had on his face, his perfect pale face. “Ah, y/n just the woman I was looking for. Come. I need you to do something for me.” You didn’t say much as you followed him into an open area in the manor. “Dance with me a moment.” He extended his hand out waiting for you to take it. You weren’t the best dancer but you never had to do it much before. You sheepishly put your hand in his, your face saying everything you were feeling. The anxiety, the unease and the overthinking. Sebastian gave a grin and squeezed your hand slightly. “Don’t be nervous my dear, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” He pulled you close, chests touching, his hand placed on your slower back, his touch is firm yet soft somehow. He’s warm, comfortingly warm.

Oh gosh, he’s so close to you. He smells nice, clean. Of course he does. He’s perfect. As Sebastian guides you through the basic steps and possible moves one could do in a traditional dance, he grew slightly irritated as you kept looking down at your feet, soon the hand holding your back moved up to your chin and lifted your gaze to his red eyes. “Y/n. It’s rude not to look at your dance partner. It shows that you’re uninterested. Look at me from now on, understand?” He was grinning, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger and it was annoying. How could you just stare at him the whole time, your body wasn’t prepared for that much eye contact. Let’s just say it was incredibly difficult to look at him, unwavering and not fumble with your steps but you somehow managed to get through it.

-end of flashback-

Yeah, that whole ordeal replaying in your head wasn’t helping your needy situation whatsoever. You kept spacing on the simplest thing and fumbling more than usual, it was irritating you so much. Finnian asked several times if you felt alright, he must’ve blabbed to Sebastian because soon enough the tall pale figure walked over to you. His eyes held a look of concern. “Y/n, Finnian told me you weren’t feeling well. Is that true?” He asked, leaning ever so slightly over you, his eyes dancing over your body. “Oh! No Sebastian. I’m fine really, thanks for checking on me-” you were cut off by his hand on your forehead, which caused you to start blushing. His eyebrow quirked up and he sighed. “Ah, you’ve got a slight fever, come now.” He p i c k e d you up bridal style and carried you towards your quarters. It was quiet in there given that everyone else was working around the manor. It was just you two.

You protested a few times on the way until he laid you onto your bed, walking over to your door and locking it.

What..?

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit and you looked up at Sebastian, “i- um. What are you doing, Sebastian?” You ask shyly, your mind going crazy at all the possible reasons, of course focusing on the dirtiest outcomes. He walked back over towards you, sitting next to you on the bed, reaching for the back of your dress.

“One with a fever shouldn’t undress themselves. If Mey-Rin were to do it, I fear she’d rip your uniform. That’d be a hassle for me to repair. If it makes your more comfortable I can do this blindfolded.” You could feel his gloved hands tickle your back, you weren’t wearing an undershirt, this uniform was quite warm when working sometimes. You breathe deep and slow, attempting to calm your nerves and hormones running rampant. “N-no it’s fine I-… I can do it.” You could very well do it yourself, but Sebastian doing it was a fantasy becoming reality. You thought it wouldn’t get much harder until you felt a warm breath on your neck, a low voice in your ear and a hand under your uniform holding firmly onto your waist. “I know what your issue is dear, you’re a bit… pent. I know the scent anywhere.” You turn and face him, bright red across your face. “H-hey!” He was incredibly close, impossibly close without kissing you. “S-Sebasti-“ he put a finger on your lips. “If you try and keep quiet I can help you. If you’d like of course.”

What?

Your eyes grew heavy as you gave into him, how could you not? He closed the distance between you and kissed you deeply, you whining as he did so, feeling such a touch for the first time in so long was bliss, it was dirty, it was sinful but it felt so good. His eyes open, his hands running about your body, feeling every curve, every crevice, remembering your shape and taking note on every special spot that seemed to get you going. One of his hands going up your skirt, onto your thighs, pulling down a stocking and laying you onto your back. Your body’s senses were on high and every touch felt like a fire being sent to your core. This was unlike anything you’ve felt before, it was intense and he was simply touching you. He swiftly pulled up your skirt and placed his thumb on your throbbing clit, making slight movements. You pull away from the kiss with a gasp and pushed the back of your head into the pillow beneath you, biting your lip to fight the moan wanting so desperately to escape. Your climax already beginning to build from this small stimulation. Sebastian placed his lips upon your neck, leaving small bites on your sensitive areas. His fingers moving gracefully over your clothed pussy, he felt how excited you were, the soaked panties were a dead giveaway for anyone but he could smell how aroused you were, which got him excited. Not that his body showed signs of it but internally he was going to devour you. He finally pulled back and pulled your panties down, revealing a wet mess. He didn’t miss a beat starting to eat you out, there was no warning, no teasing. Just his tongue on your hot core. You went to moan but his hand swiftly covered your mouth which drove you mad, he was good. Almost instinctually you moved your head and began to suck on his gloved fingers. He looked up at you and stopped for a moment, hands on either side of you, just looming above you. He pulled his hand out and let his fingertips linger at your lips. “Bite the glove.” He commanded, you did so and he slipped his hand out. “Good girl. I didn’t realize you were so naughty. Maybe you needed this more than I thought.” He threw the glove out of your mouth and resumed position. Fingers in your mouth and tongue back onto you. You wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you silly right then and there. But the things his tongue could somehow manage to do were inhuman, your climax quickly built, it was almost embarrassing. You whined and whimpered as you came, your whole body tensing up as he rode your through your climax, letting it settle before pulling away, a trail of your cum and his saliva connecting you and his mouth. He smirked, almost amused on how quickly that happened. “My my. How sweet you taste.” Oh my God.

As his fingers left your mouth you sat up and reached for his pants. He allowed you to undo his buttons, watching intently as he removed the other glove that remained on his right hand.

As you finally got his dick out, it was hard and ready, you were about to take it in your mouth before he put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back. “No no, this is about you. I’ll enjoy myself plenty. Just submit.” You bit your lip, glancing back down at his member. “Y-yes sir.” He sure did like obeisance. He got off the bed and gestured tot he edge. “Bend over.” Holy shit what? You blinked and slowly began to move, he sighed. “Quickly now.” He grabbed your hips and brought you in front of him, lifting you with ease, turning you away and pushing you forward onto the bed. It was such a vulnerable position, your skirt covering you until he lifted the fabric and placed it onto your back.

You felt his tip meet your entrance and you whispered “oh fuck..” you heard a giggle, did he hear you?

“Such a filthy little mouth.”

He didn’t warn you, he rammed into you, having you take his entire length immediately, you couldn’t help but moan out as he did so. He soon grabbed a fistful of your pretty hair and put your face to the mattress. “Quiet now, I’m about to begin.” You bit your lip hard as he showed you no mercy. His quick and rough pace were enough to make you see the gates of heaven themselves. Well maybe gates of hell with how this was going. You were burying your face into the mattress moaning into it to muffle whatever you could. His name was your new favorite word, along with a string of words of your full submission. You felt your core begin to heat back up as you felt another orgasm coming quickly. He obviously felt it too as you tighten around his dick, your walls memorizing his shaft and forming to welcome it. It was the first sound you heard from him, a subtle grunt but it was proof of his own pleasure from this.

The room was filled with lewd sounds. The muffled moans, the slaps of your bodies, the absolute mess you were creating, the creaking of your bed frame. All of it being permanently trapped in the walls of your quarters. You’d never walk in here again and not think about this.

“That’s right. Cum for me, darling. Be a good girl and cum.” That was it, you were sent flying over your edge with another intense climax, bigger than the one before. As he slowed down your body twitched at every subtle move, you attempted to regain your breath but you could hardly move your legs. “S-Sebastian… but you didn’t...” You looked over your shoulder at him while he was cleaning up from the utter mess you made on his dick. “Oh dear y/n, I’m not sure you could handle the work it would take for me to cum myself.” He smirked. The way he said it didn’t make it sound condescending or cocky, just matter of fact. You shot up, shakily. Looking at him. “No! I can! I don’t want you to be disappointed or left unattended to!” He lifted your chin up once again, getting absurdly close. “Trust me darling, I’d break you. I don’t want to do that. If I want some more fun, you’ll hear a knock. Now rest.” With that he left you, in your sex filled room, cum soaked sheets and disheveled hair. What a filthy girl you are.

[alastor-simp]

Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis Reacting to a reader who sings like Japanese singer “Ado”

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♟️

♟️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.

Sebastian Michaelis😈

😈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.

[delicate-pointofview]

GUYS. JUST. LOOK. AT. IT.

This incredible artist, @vivi-ships, made this fanart for my fanfiction, AND I AM IN AWE, REALLY!

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! WHY IS THIS SO GOOD?!

This drawing overcame all my expectations about the art that was in my head! That's the first time this happens!

I almost started to cry (not joking), because LOOK AT THEM!

Seb worshipping Ciel's body, and the distant expression Ciel makes, like he's in other world, evading reality... REINASSANCE PAINTING, BITCH! That's all I wanna pass through my story!

Thank you so much @vivi-ships, love you, really! <3

follow them oh their other platforms, you not gonna regret it:

pixiv and twitter: @ShriekingBeast

[tabibitto]

Always Yours | Sebastian Michaelis

m.list

cw: fluff, smut, angst, toxic relationship, butler x master, oneshot, gender neutral, main character death

A/N: should i make a mini series about something like this?

Upon a summon, a demon negotiates a price, and a deal. What to give and take.

As a creature of sin, he of course, tries to make the best bargain for himself. With you, it was different. The first of contracts in over 500 years where the terms were of equal measure, in your gaze and his.

Sebastian, as you named him. Promised three things to you: Pleasure, Protection and Absolute Service. In service, he swore honesty, he swore loyalty, as both a butler and a lover. He swore to "care" for you.

Whether you looked at it as genuine kindness or the simple task of taking care of a lesser animal was up to you.

In this Loom of Fate, where you had no real future. No heirs for your earldom, where your work in your manor and buisness was for naught, you still worked hard and gave it your utmost devotion.

It amused him—watching as you worked and packed your schedule for seemingly no reason. In a hundred years you would be forgotten, but the demon supposed that this was another little quirk of the complex nature of humans.

Sebastian often pondered weather you did this to feign a sense of normality, or weather it made the perfect excuse for him to...destress you.

He teased you about it before, that there was no need to work so hard for his cock and attention. In response you had slapped him, and rode him harder that night. It was never brought up again.

You never did answer his question as to why pretend to be normal. Then again, he didn't say anything when you asked why he would pretend to love you. And unlike your usual stubbornness, you dared not to press when the chatty demon suddenly grew quiet whilst he washed your hair.

You never learned whether his silence was an answer in itself, or because...he didn't know either.

Sebastian took care to remember everything you mentioned you liked and hated, without your orders to do or not do. He insisted he always take care of your hair and body. Never allowing you to lift a finger when he was around. Sebastian always had a new excuse

Chivalry, Duty, Honor. Trivial ideals that mattered not to him.

How Sebastian took gentle care to prep you and love you the first time you urged him into your bed.

How you insisted he was the only one who could, because he was your loyal slave who would never open his mouth and boast nor gossip of his Lady in bed, to which he agreed

Sebastian would not dare, contract or not to allow another man nor woman know of your pretty moans and expressions, how you quivered around him and uttered i love yous and stay with mes that nearly convinced him of your affection.

In return, he uttered the same sweet nothings to you.

He tore apart anyone you wished dead, brought you their heads and tongues like a proud pet when you requested.

Sebastian knew it was not distrust that made you ask for proof of death. You were just as twisted as he and it made him crave your own demise even more.

Deep down, where his heart was supposed to be. Sebastian knew he loved you, he was obsessed with you and would do anything for you. His own addiction made him nurture and love your soul even more, each time he kissed you, he could faintly taste the delicacy he has cultivated for years, and would fuck you hard to satiate his thirst for your soul.

he fed you, bathed you, fucked you, loved you

he gave you everything you never had

In return, you fullfilled your own end of the contract.

you were a loyal lover to him. Never pleased nor been pleased by another man or woman then Sebastian himself. Turned down every marriage proposal and attempt to court you. Danced with no one unless absolutely needed

Never smoked nor did drugs to preserve your soul's taste, though you did enjoy wine and liquor.

You called him when in danger or if someone tried to force themselves on you, and he protected you, held you as cried and trembled, Comforted you as you wanted.

Making gentle love to you, kissing you, hugs, cuddles. Watching over you while you beat and tortured men to death. Brought you whatever parts you wanted, mailed the rest to their homes as a warning.

Sebastian would never dare himself say he loved you. He would never think it possible. Demons and Angels could not love nor hate. The divine and damned existed for a sole purpose, to carry out the word of the lord, or bring damnation to humanity. He was the latter, nothing more or less.

With you he could pretend he was someone, someone more. Someone who could come home, who could love and live. He would lay awake at night, and pretend you meant your words. Your confessions. Allow himself to feel

What Sebastian would say, is that he was simply possesive and obsessed with you. And if he had to call it love for your sake...and his. So be it.

Until the day when he would please you one last time before tearing you apart as he came. Relishing in your screams and cries, as much as it destroyed him to do such a vile thing. He would enjoy you. Every inch, every drop of you was his.

Sebastian Michaelis would love every inch of you until then. And bury himself into starvation with your body, to love and be loyal to you, his mistress. Until the end of time.

Because there was no one like you, would be no one like you. You were everything he wanted and would ever need.

Even if his stomach ached for even a cheap soul, he would ride it out until death. As punishment for making you suffer, and to keep his promise to you.

usque ad mortem im tua

[manias-wordcount]

Could I make a request for black butler? Sebastians darling love (Ciel's 21 year old sister) is sick and dying and begs Sebastian to make her a demon

Brevity of the Soul (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

For once, as you hold them, you swear his hands are warmer than yours. 

  He had taken his gloves moments ago. The minute he stepped into your bedroom, in fact. Ciel only just went shouting for him, and here he is- already ready to serve. Ready to serve you. You couldn’t be more grateful. But your worsening condition is starting to make it hard for you to think in ways you should. 

  With the curtains drawn and the light of the sun being snuffed out by a moody sky and a precious rainstorm, you can’t see much. But even with all the light in your room, would you even be able to see anything at all? Your vision has been failing you. Your hearing has gone a little as well with all the fevers. Everything has been a blur of faces and sounds that always come from too far away. You only recognized him when he stepped up to your bed and sat by your side. You only recognized him when brushed your hair away from your face and took your hands in his. 

  You only recognize him because you know that he’s all you have if you want to survive. If you want to live. And that scares you. That scares you so much that you can’t even begin to bear the thought of it. Of options other than living, side by side and looking after your little brother. Of options other than dying of old age many, many, many years down the line. 

  So you have to…you have to try.

  “Sebastian…” Your voice utters his name in a whisper, soft and nearly broken. “Sebastian…I-”

  Your throat and your chest ache as you speak, but you know you have to do this. You know you have to take this chance. You’re done holding on to hope. You’re done seeing doctors and physicians. You’re done praying to gods you know that aren’t there. Gods that you know would never listen to so much as a single word you would murmur. This is all you have. The only chance you have. 

  But then he hushes you.

  A single, gloveless finger presses itself to your lips. He starts to lean in close. Close enough that you finally can see him. That sharp, handsome face. Pale skin. Narrow red eyes. Perfectly sculpted features. A soft expression. One that he seems to only hold for you. And his lips. Lips that used to sing your praises. Lips that used to whisper such dirty things into your ears. Lips that you used to kiss. Lips that you’ll miss kissing. You’ll miss him. Oh, how you’ll miss him…

  You don’t realize that you’ve slipped your hands from his and started slowly reaching a hand out to cup the side of his face until he grabbed your hand back. He’s so kind and sweet and gentle as he guides your hand to his face and presses his lips to it. He delivers soft kisses to every inch of your palm, the back of your hand, and every little joint left in your fingers. Not a single speck of skin is left untouched. And he’s so careful with his fangs. He’s so mindful with his nails. And so accommodating as your body struggles to lift up a simple arm.

  In this moment, he still puts you first. Unspoken requests. Unspoken desires. He still puts you first. 

  And so it’s hard to imagine that this man is a demon. It’s hard to imagine that the only reason that the main reason he has been around so long- serving you and your brother so faithfully is because he desires to one day see his contract fulfilled so he may consume your brother’s soul. It’s so hard for you to imagine that. Even before you fell so, so very ill. Because the love you hold for this many is real. It is so terribly real.

  And you always dared to think that the love he has shown for you has been just as real.

  “Sebastian…” You say again, your voice quivering under the weight of a heavy pair of lungs and a rapidly dying body. His eyes turn towards you. An attentive stare as always, half hidden behind the strands of hair covering his face. His lips are still pressing themselves against your palm. And you just can’t believe how warm he feels compared to you. It’s terrifying. It’s absolutely terrifying. And it only serves to remind you of what’s coming. Of what’s happening. Of what you need to do. To prevent the future. To fight against the inevitable. To live.  “Sebastian…please! I…I don’t want to die…”

  It’s the first thing that came to mind. Those words were, at least. The first thing to come to your fever-addled mind. They are words you have said before. Words you have said before just before meeting him at that. But it’s the truth nonetheless. 

  You don’t want to die.

  You don’t want to die.

  “Your soul is weak,” Sebastian responds simply. Red eyes narrow and lips set into a straight line. A look that betrays nothing. “Fragile”

  But a look that betrays you.

  Because it cuts into you- his retort. His tone is so plain. So cold. So uncaring. Tears start to well up in your eyes. You let out a harsh breath- one that struggles to leave your lungs as your heart starts to feel a little heavier than usual. And beat a little slower at the same time. Your body runs cold yet warms at the same time. Embarrassment? Shutting down? Slipping between the cracks? As your eyes start to flutter close and your lips start to quiver and your body starts to shake, you can’t help but let the pain and heartbreak and defeat wash over you.

  You have no strength to find it off. In fact, you don’t think have the strength to fight anything off. Not him. And certainly not the illness that plagues you. In another life, you’ll apologize to Ciel. Because you doubt you’ll have enough time here. Because your head feels so, so heavy. And your body is moving so, so slow. And so all you can do is lay back on your pillow.

  All you can do is regret and suffer.

  Because you should have known. You should have known that with every moment the two of you shared, he thought only of your value to him. Of how you should would taste. You should have known that there was never any love behind those eyes. Never any affection behind those kisses. You should have known, you should have known, you should have known, you should have known! And still, you can’t help but feel like it was all real.

  And maybe it was. For a moment, at least.

  But you won’t know. At least, you won’t know until your head stops hurting. You won’t know until your body stops feeling so heavy. You won’t know until you’re finally able to hear as you once did. You won’t know until you’re finally able to see as you once did. Exist as you once did. Live as you once did. And maybe that will be in the next life. Or maybe…

  “...But I don’t need to consume you to keep you forever.”

  …maybe that will be in whatever life Sebastian chooses for you.

  “I know how to take what’s rightfully mine.”

  …if he even needs to choose at all.

[writing-fanics]

| happiest I’ve ever been | Sebastian michaelis x f!reader

| summary: love between butler and his mistress and where they are now |

warning: implied smut : child birth :

She giggled quietly, as her lover planted kisses on her neck. Gently, leaving behind love bites in the process. “My…darling..you..tasted..absolutely..exquisite,” Sebastian said between each kiss he planted on her neck. She smiled placing her hand on his bare chest.

He stared down at with a dastardly grin on his lips. His eyes almost seemed to pierce into her soul. “Admiring the view?” She asked, and he smiled leaning down to kiss her on the lips again.

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, “My darling, sad to say but I must be returning to my duties,” He said, and she looked at him and pursed her lips.

She frowned, he leaned down planting a kiss on her forehead before kissing her on the lips again. “But, I would love to continue this later,” He said, and she smirked at him seductively before kissing him.

“Very well,” she said, she watched as he swiftly got out of bed and got dressed she smiled watching him get dressed. She’d never been this happy in her life since not before that fateful day. Then, Sebastian came along and as time went by she slowly developed feelings for the mysterious butler.

She didn’t know that it was fake, when she say Sebastian’s “dead” body on the ground. She couldn’t stop crying and seeing his dead body to help solve the mystery didn’t help at all. She took it upon herself to take care of the cats, inside the wardrobe.

She was an absolute wreck at the “funeral” but tried to stay strong for Ciel. But when the bell was rung she dropped whatever she was holding and immediately lunged at him as he emerged from the coffin. Sobbing and crying along with the other servants.

She was the one to take care of him once he along with Ciel and Snake, returned from the ship. Seeing that her aunt Angelina thought her how to suture up wounds she helped take care of Sebastian even though it wasn’t her job to do so.

She confessed her feelings to him, as she was bringing him back to health. She wasn’t bothered at all by the difference in their status, she cared for him and loved him and wanted to be by his side.

Sebastian at first found it highly inappropriate especially, with the fact her little brother is his master. As well on his mind the terms of the Faustian Contract, inevitably he’d consume her brothers soul and would presumably return to the demon realm.

He rejected her feelings saying that a butler and a master. Pursing a relationship would be highly inappropriate.

He watched as her smile faltered and she looked down, “V-Very, well I understand it would be inappropriate but that’s the thing I don’t really care.” She frowned, and then left his room so that he could rest.it was awhile before he eventually realized he too had feelings for her and they secretly pursued a relationship.

Our!Ciel quickly found out but was happy to see his older sister so happy for once.

( present )

“Why now?!” She screamed, in pain sweat running down her forehead as she pushed. Of all times for her to being going into labor why now?

When, the Real!Ciel revealed himself along with the Undertaker. And took his place as the rightful earl of Phantomhive. And when, Our!Ciel,Sebastian, Mey-Rin, Bard, Finny, and Snake. Are fugitives on the run.

Cries echoed throughout the room. Sebastian smiled, looking down at his wailing child. “Love, we have a beautiful baby girl.” He said, cradling the infant.

[Y/n] cried tears of joy seeing her newborn baby, her lovers arms. He placed the infant on her chest and she cooed over the baby.

“Lilith Angelina-Rachel Phantomhive,” She whispered, looking at her child. She had jet-black hair and (e/c) eyes and her fathers nose and ears she looked absolutely precious.

Sebastian and [Y/n], looked up hearing the commotion coming from outside the door. “Knock it off!” She heard, Our!Ciel shout at the servant wanting them to be quiet to let the two lovers quietly enjoy the birth of their newborn.

“I think they’ve waited long enough,” She said, gently rubbing her babies back. “Are you sure?” He asked, and she nodded looking at him.

She watched, as he walked towards the door opening. Everyone rushing into the room excitedly seeing the baby on [Y/n]’s chest. “Aw, look at her she’s so cute!” Finny cooed, looking at the baby.

“She looks just like Sebastian yes she does!” Mey-Rin cooed, and the baby slowly opened her eyes and admired the world around her.

“Would you like to hold her?” She asked, looking over at her little brother. He looked at her confused, “Why, would I want to hold your child?” He asked, and she smiled at him.

Eventually, he gave in and gently took the baby into his arms. She cooed and squirmed and he couldn’t help but stare down at his niece in awe. “What’s her name?” He asked, and she looked up at Sebastian and smiled.

“Lilith Angelina-Rachel Phantomhive,” She said, and he stared at her in absolute disbelief and then looked back down at his niece. She could’ve sworn she saw a single tear roll down the side of his cheek.

[rinaxtaros]

[06] | 𝐑𝐄𝐃.

summary: Ciel, [y/n] and Sebastian discuss her future with the Phantomhive’s.

— Tainted (verb) contaminate or pollute (something)

"Well if you are ordered to be by my side I suppose there is nothing I can do.” Ciel shrugs as his eyes flutter close. Sebastian scoffs "My Lord!"

Ciel opens his eye to glare at his baffled butler “I believe this matter has no need for your input, surely you understand the details of our contract?"

Sebastian stays quiet as he sees Ciel had stuck him in a rut. It is true. Yet it annoys him that his simple-minded human master had told him about the details of a demonic contract. He lets his eye twitch in annoyance.

"Do not fret, Sebastian" You interrupt, placing a hand against your heart in feign compassion “I do not wish to consume your master's tainted soul.”

Your eyes flush with a beautiful array of pinks, reds and magentas. Your passion is very obvious as it swirls within your eyes when you’re speaking.

Ciel observes your characteristics intently. The young boy notices the way your eyes seem to glow a passionate red whilst you speak (mock) to Sebastian, and how they seem to sparkle under the candlelit room. Ciel believes your eyes are reminiscent to his late aunts ruby hair.

Though, he should be terrified by the powerful aura you hold, he is nothing short of captivated. Even when you were disguised as a figure close to his mother, he could still sense your strong abilities. Although he may not of known of your supernatural prowess, the confidence you radiate when you’re not acting the part of a humble maid is something that matches Sebastian’s cocky attitude.

"If you are to watch over me, I suppose we should disguise you as a maid." Ciel interrupts the bickering that had begun between you and Sebastian in his time spent thinking.

“Perhaps a housekeeper, a higher position.” He ponders, hand cupping his chin.

“Very smart, young master.” Sebastian comments, ignoring how your smile is pissing him off “It means she can speak to us regularly without being questioned.”

Ciel nods.

"Maybe a name change is in place?" He asks as he looks towards the newest member of the Phantomhive manor.

“Whatever you wish, Phantomhive.” You reply, looking towards the young boy. Despite his young age, he is quite a distinguished businessman.

Ciel thinks for a few moments, allowing the sounds of nature to enter the room. The light pitter-patter of the rain against the large expanse of the glass panes is calming to say the least. It adds to the atmosphere of the room that Sebastian had attempted to make for his master.

You glance at Sebastian. He has had his guard up the whole time you were here, which you find quite confusing. You have shown no sign of aggression, just a simple jest here and there with said demon.

"Have you had any past names?" Ciel rips the two from their staging contest. You laugh “It would take me years to list them all, little Phantomhive."

You blink, thinking “You can call me [y/n]. We can just pretend you hired me after your aunts passing.”

Ciel growls lightly "Do not call me that!" You cock a brow. It’s quite easy to rile up the poor thing. Has Sebastian been a good little dog and not crossed the line with little Ciel?

"I think I recall that you are not my master.”

Sebastian hums "I suppose you aren't my Lord, however, technically you don't have a master at all." He glances at you through the corner of his eye, almost smirking as he tries to one up you.

“Her soul has been eaten has it not?"

You nod. “That is a dilemma for me.” You slip the lacy glove from your hand to show the pair the faint marking “It disappeared when she passed, but after reading the letter, it reappeared.”

“Only slightly, though.” Sebastian hums.

The study falls quiet, the only sound being the clock that ticked on the mantelpiece. The soft glow of the room bounces off of the entities present.

The two seem to communicate silently, passing you glances. It unsettles you.

"I hope that you don't get too happy with me being here, I find it tedious." You add, downcasting your eyes to your scratched shoes. The woodlands had done a number on the polished material.

"Perhaps you can be an informant, surely you know quite a bit about the underworld." Ciel asks.

“Oh? and why would I tell you?” You tease half-heartedly.

"Because I have Sebastian" He speaks smugly "I'll just ask him to torture it out of you.”

His attitude is truly vile. A little boy with such tone-deaf confidence really ticks you off.

“Is that anyway to speak to someone that can so easily kill you?" You mutter, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth in distaste. Sebastian shuffles, turning towards your figure.

Does he not realise you have to desire in hurting the boy?

“Plus I think you’ll find that…” You glance over at Sebastian “I’ll enjoy it.”

"Is that anyway to speak to my Lord?" Sebastian enquires, stepping towards the demoness who changes her gaze to the wall in front of her.

"I'm starting to rethink this proposition, perhaps I will ignore Anne's last order.” A sigh escapes your lips, tired eyes boring into Sebastians so uninterested it makes his blood boil. Sebastian scoffs.

"You call yourself a Faustian demon yet you disobey your masters orders?" Sebastian glares in disgust. You mirror the disgusted look "You may have respect in Hell, but we are on Earth, I shan't feel scrutinised by your words.”

Ciel laughs from his chair, watching the conflict between demons. A voice in his head tells him he should probably be scared as there is a high chance that a demon fight will break out. Sebastian's demon aura grows from his back, magnifying with the blatant disrespect you continue to show but by the cocky smirk on your face, it’s clear you enjoy pushing his buttons.

Perhaps Ciel will bargain to keep you around.

"Your words aren't just blatant disrespect, but I rather find it amusing to think you will get away with what you say.” Sebastian growls. You shrug her shoulders "If you think you'll get me back in Hell then you are wrong, I don't wish to go back there for centuries.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow "You think I won't get you here? You think lowly of me, darling.” He chuckles lightly as he collects himself.

Ciel hums, his hands resting in his lap "Will you stay [y/n]? I'm sure you would like to get started on your next contract.”

"Yes.” You confirm, "I would like to make a contract, but no souls attract me.”

Your eyes flutter closed for a second, "It's getting late, little Lord, are you sure you're not tired?" You ask, eyes fluttering open to catch the slight slouch in his posture. Ciel’s houlders droop as he tries to keep himself up right, but he fails miserably. He’s still a child after all - he’ll eventually give into his tiredness.

Sebastian turns to his master, his hands toying with the Phantomhive stopwatch and clicking it open. His eyes widen "Unfortunately she is right my Lord, the time is a quarter past twelve.”

Ciel sighs tiredly "I suppose so.”

"What game are you playing at?" Sebastian asks as he walks down the large hallway, candle holder in hand. His eyes flicker occasionally to the demoness beside him who walks along silently.

"Nothing..but now that you say something like that, perhaps I'll start one.” You taunt, fluttering your lashes towards Sebastian who watches with an unreadable expression.

He scoffs "I can tell what sin you are.”

You pouts (although you weren’t trying to hide it), "Really? How about we play a game then?” You pause Sebastian in his stride.

He watches as your hand slivers to grasp around his black tie. Your fingers curve around the material, watching as his eyes flicker between your hand and your face. You pull, relishing in the way he seems to stutter.

Sebastian's eyes waver for a few seconds as he formulates a plan. A smirk widens on his face as he leans closer, there faces barely centimetres apart "Perhaps we can, but I decide the rules'.”

[wonderer399]

DO ANTIS KNOW THAT THEIR OWN PARENTS MIGHT HAVE LARGER AGE GAP THAN MOST YAOIS AND MIGHT BE LARGER THAN SEBAxCIEL AGE GAP ?

THERE IS A POSSIBILITY THAT THEIR OWN PARENTS MIGHT GROOM EACH OTHER ....

GO SAVE REAL CHILDREN INSTEAD OF COMING AFTER PEOPLE WHO SHIPS PIXELS ONLY

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

No but,

Sebastian can lift you easily. Regardless of what you weigh, it doesn't matter to him. He's a demon.

Sebastian can hold you in one arm, while he continues working with the other.

He could put you on his shoulders if you like, of course all this in private for propriety.

But the bridal carry is his best, not only are you looking up at his beautiful face, but also, sometimes he can lean down and kiss you.

Sebastian likes when you need him to help you do anything. Every time you call him and ask him to help you with something he feels a thrill in his chest.

He loves being needed by you.

He loves having an excuse to be anywhere near you.

Sebastian teaches you to ride (again). Although you knew how to, because of a lack of practice owing to your sickness, you were unsteady.

Sebastian makes sure you're safe, always stays ready to jump in the second he senses something off.

His hand encircling your waist as he lifts you off the beast and sets you on firm ground.

Holds you when you feel faint from the fright you got.

Sebastian loves to bring you your favourite treats.

Especially when you've been good, or have had a bad day, Sebastian will look forward to the way your face lights up when he presents the treat to you.

Sebastian doesn't know if he wants to eat you, or keep you.

But in either case, the demon never wants to leave your side.

[geto-kee]

INCOMING!—☆

Your S/O makes you squirt for the first time

Time-Skip Takemichi/Howl Pendragon/Sebastian Michaelis/Son Goku

Female reader / Reader with a vagina

Minors do not interact cause I know you gone read the shit anyway 🙎🏾‍♀️

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Takemichi—

TAKEMICHI’S EYES WERE WIDE AND BLOWN OUT

the space between his brows wrinkled as he panted. His beige skin was heated to the touch as his sweat began to dampen his feverish skin. The man’s heart thundered and reverberated within his eardrums as his blue eyes focused on where the two of you were connected.

You were on top of him.

Your upper body was leaned back, your hands on either side of his spread legs. Your breast bounced with vigor, your skin just as sweaty as his. Your legs were parted, exposing your most intimate parts to your lover as you bounced on his cock.

Takemichi’s wide eyes drunk at the sight of his cock spearing into you each time you dropped down on his cock. He could hear the lewd squelching of your pussy welcoming his cock each time, and the slapping of your ass against his pelvis and upper thighs. Your meaty thighs and ass rippled as you bounced on him, and your head was thrown back in ecstasy. The male’s hands gripped your hips for something to hold onto, occasionally gripping your soft flesh, or pulling you harder down on his cock while he lost himself in the feeling of your velvet walls hugging him, and sucking him further inside of you. The crown of his cock jabbed at the soft spongy part of you, provoking you to chase your orgasm as the sensation fluttered through you, the turmoil building in your lower belly began to grow.

Takemichi couldn’t understand what came over him.

But his dominant hand let go of your hip so he could harshly flick his fingers back and forth against your swollen clit.

“Fuck—yes!” you sputtered as you felt as if you were coming. It was an intense feeling that rushed over you as a sudden spurt of wetness sprayed Takemichi’s lower half. At the same time, he bucked his hips upward, cumming deep inside of you.

The man tensed, eyes wide as he halted, looking down at what had happened as you flopped back, your back over the lower half of his legs.

He seemed to marvel, slightly gasping as his hand grasped the top of your thigh to lightly shake your leg. “_,” his brows raised, “babe!”

You were out like a light.

He sweatdropped, still in awe at what happened. He hadn’t anticipated you to cum as hard as you had done.

He could hear you softly snoring.

For now, he would pull out, clean you up, and then tuck you in.

His mind was still racing about what happened. He felt his lean chest swell with pride that he had managed to make you squirt like that. Usually, he’d see that in porn flicks or on those ridiculous porn ads that pop up on other websites. He had never seen it happen in person with someone else until now.

TAKEMICHI WAS MENTALLY PATTING HIS BACK

Howl—

HOWL HAD YOUR ASS HANGING OFF THE FOOT OF THE BED

he had your legs raised as his hands grasped tightly to the back of your knees, bending them back slightly. You swore he thought you were some sort of contortionist the way he would bend you in odd angles.

You’d think complaining about being so sore and not so flexible to the man he’d ease up a little.

Your toes curled as one of your arms extended above your head on the bed, gripping the soft blanket and sheets of your shared bed. Your unoccupied hand furiously rubbed harsh circles against your clit as Howl unrelentlessly jutted his hips against your ass. Your skin rippled as his balls slapped against your ass from how harshly he was stuffing his cock into you. He kept your legs spread to watch you rub your clit eagerly, his blue eyes wide with excitement.

The two of you were doing your best to remain quiet amid the night so as to not wake anyone else in the cozy castle.

Your hand loosened on the sheets and you clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle the sudden cry that wanted to flee from the depths of your throat.

“Right there,” your shaky voice spoke through your fingers after spreading them.

With your legs in his hold, he was gripping onto you tightly as he raised them a little higher, the lower half of your body going up as his cockhead began massaging against that soft spongy spot within you. Repeatedly pressing against it with the roll of his hips. You stopped your hand momentarily as your legs began to shake and a rush went through your body. Your lower belly tensed, and your walls clenched around him, holding him snugly in place, making it difficult for him to pull out to push back in as he started cumming.

Howl’s blue eyes sparkled in awe at the rush of wetness that spattered against his lower belly, dripping from his skin now. Your mouth parted in a silent scream as you arched your back and turned your head slightly, your whole body trembling in account.

You were panting, your chest heaving. Your eyes were cloudy and somewhat teary, and your hands were limp at your sides.

Howl couldn’t help but chuckle, he brushed gentle kisses against the inside of your calf. “Beautiful,” he praised you, continuing kissing your feverish skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. You were so good for me,” he murmured, striving to keep quiet still. Glancing at a window, he noted that the sun was gradually ascending through a beautiful haze of orange and pink clouds.

Sebastian—━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AS DEMONS

you and Sebastian were pretty smug, especially when it applied to showing one another up. Whether it be in front of the Phantomhive staff, in front of the young earl—and especially in bed.

Sebastian tangled a hand in your locs, tugging a few of them in his grasp. His other hand raked his black fingernails against your naked back, leaving red thin lines in their wake. The disrupted skin welted with small beads of blood but they would eventually heal by the time morning rose.

FOR NOW

Sebastian’s sharp teeth harshly bit into your shoulder, staking his claim on you as your sharp nails scratched his broad chest. His dark hair was a mess, strands sticking upward, and in odd directions, if anyone saw him with such imperfections in his hair they’d think it was uncharacteristic of him.

You, however, were much more used to the sight of his ruined state.

He was on top of you, lapping at the blood that surfaced from your bitten skin. He brushed his red lips against the wounds as small apologies, his hips recklessly rutted against yours, his cock plowing inside you provoking your walls to spasm as you raised a leg.

In his ear, he could hear the sharp gasp that pierced from your throat. He could feel the way your body pulled tautly and your breast pressing against his naked chest as you arched your back from the black abyss that was your nest. Dark feathers gradually showered the area, some landing on your lover’s head or brushing against his back. A few landed on your chest when Sebastian would lift his upper body, or landed in the wake of your locs that pooled around your head.

HERE, YOU COULD BE AS LOUD AS YOU WANTED

You could scream, you could be as rough as you wanted with him, and the same applied to him for you, without interruption from concerned staff members.

Your head leaned back, your chin raised, exposing more of your neck as you choked out a cry. Your plush lips were parted, sharp teeth gleaming from an unknown light, and your triangular tongue slightly lolling from your mouth. Sebastian watched with sadistic glee, his eyes squinting slightly as a smirk smeared his bloodied lips.

With one last thrust upward, jabbing into a spot he knew all too well, he watched in fascination as his balls tightened and began cumming—filling you to the brim with his seed—as your hips stuttered and your essence sprayed the lower half of his stomach.

He was far too used to the lewd sight of you squirting.

HE WAS OBSESSED WITH GETTING YOU TO DO IT

OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO BE FRANK

He felt a sense of pride watching you writhe beneath him as your body would jolt. In reaction to so much pleasure, that it was almost painful, your hands would push at his chest, one eyelid hooded, and lower than the other, as you hissed.

He gave a deep chuckle, tilting his head to kiss your cheek.

“Asshole,” you murmured when your body settled. A purr rumbled from your throat, basking in his warmth as his chuckling proceeded.

“Now, now, let’s not be harsh. What sort of mate would I be if I couldn’t satisfy you so immensely.”

He laid on top of you on purpose, his face hovering over yours as that smug expression haunted you for the remainder of you being underneath him.

“Don’t you dare-”

“I’m simply one hell of a lover.”

He beamed as you groaned at that stupid catchphrase.

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Goku—

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SAIYAN MEN WERE A DIFFERENT BREED

you knew that for a fact with the way Goku acted behind closed doors within the privacy of your cozy home.

Normally his eyes were wide with glee, puppy-like happiness that would swirl within his dark eyes. His smile could light up an entire planet, presenting those pearly whites.

HOWEVER

Your back arched as your fingers gripped onto the sheets of your shared bedding. The bed squeaked under the pressure of Goku’s relentless thrusting. His vast hands were practically bruising your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, hooking into you to pull you back onto his cock. His narrowed eyes would often ascend your arched spine, watching sweat glide down your skin. His dark eyes descended your spine anew, a dark purr grumbled at the base of his chest, watching his length slick into you. There was a white ring of your juices coated around the base of him, his heavy balls slapped against your slit, and the sonance of your whimpers was like music to his ears.

You were drooling, completely drunk off the bliss of his cock stuffing you full. Your head was perched on a pillow you pulled closer to your person.

Your hips bounced as his cock continued its assault, and with each bounce, your breast followed. Goku was hypnotized with the way your ass rippled from each buck of his narrow hips. Your thighs were parted, and your knees would shift, in an attempt to crawl away as the tempo of his hips fucked you quickly.

He roughly pulled you back, forcing his knees on the bed, on either side of his.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Fu—ck!” you babbled, chanting the curse word as quick as his hips were moving.

Your lips parted as thunder rumbled in the sky outside, lightning brightening the dark clouds as you cried out. Messily, his cock slipped out of you, cum spurting on your lower back and one of the cheeks of your ass. In unison, your hips twitched, cumming harshly as you squirted with a force, dampening the sheets of your bedding, pooling between your knees.

Goku jerked his hips slightly between the cheeks of your ass to get out of his rut, cum leaking from the crown of his cock.

He huffed, still holding a tight grip on you.

His chest was still rumbling as he watched his cum gradually descend your outer thigh and roll past the cheek of her ass. He felt as if he were marking his claim on you further, his purring growing louder as he licked his lips.

He barely acknowledged the dampness under you both, his hand smearing his cum on you further in satisfaction.

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[coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic]

Distracted pt 2

<- First Part ~ Next Part? ->

MINORS ONCE AGAIN BEGONE

It’s finally here! First post of 2024, took me long enough.

ANYWAYS enjoy! Thanks for waiting for me. I love you guys.

A month went by after your… meeting with Sebastian in your room. An entire month. While you knew that wasn’t going to be a regular thing you figured something would’ve changed, maybe some light flirting here and there but no it went right back to the way it was for him. Daily tasks, chores, cooking and tending to the young Lord. Thats what your days were filled with. You sigh to yourself as you think about the events that happened between you two, the heat in your cheeks becoming obvious to anyone around. Thankfully you were alone right now. You pat your cheeks and mutter to yourself for being so easy for this man, not to mention now that it’s happened you can’t help but imagine what he meant by breaking you.

“Trust me darling, I’d break you…” echoed in your head, your cheeks becoming hotter and spread through to your ears and core.

Fuck. Not again.

You can’t be distracted again so soon, yes it’s been a month of you sneaking a self session or two but Sebastian satiating you only made your hunger that more intense when it came on. You glance around, the library was hardly used during this time of day unless the young lord wasn’t finished with his studies. Nobody would be coming. Not for awhile at least. It wouldn’t hurt to sneak one here right?

Right?

You shake your head and slap your cheeks. What are you thinking?! Anywhere outside your private quarters is unforgivable and you’d be fired on the spot if someone heard or found you. Can’t risk that, you’ll just wait for tonight to try and silently tap one out. As you exit the library you cross paths with Sebastian who was making his way there. You give him a soft smile and he stops walking to speak with you.

“Y/n. How is your day going?” He asks

“All is well. I just finished dusting the library and I’m now moving onto the windows.” as you explain what you’re going about doing you swore you saw Sebastian’s eyes dart to your lips. He was probably just listening, right? Probably.

“You’re working efficiently today. No distractions?” He teased and you immediately break out into a blush, not like your previous one hadn’t died out yet. “S-Sebastian!” You whisper as you try and hide your face from him. How embarrassing.

“Perhaps your distractions are worse now, hm?” He lets himself be amused about how easy you were to fluster. There you are, a mess in front of Sebastian. You felt your panties become wet from your excitement from the thought and tease. “P-please don’t tease me. It makes things difficult..” you admit, figuring that it was probably best to just be honest with the man. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly and a grin creeps onto his lips. “I’ll only do it when appropriate.” He walks past you and into the library to do whatever and you rush the opposite direction

You sigh as you continue about your day, assisting the others with tasks and it seemed like they were having a very….how do you put this? Shitty day, nothing was going right for them and you found yourself cleaning up more than you were helping. Your calm day was now hectic and tedious. At least you weren’t stuck in your head anymore, that was a plus. But it was obvious with all these set backs, not only were your three coworkers stressed but on top of that you all knew Sebastian was getting fed up.

That evening, while the others were getting extra work put on them as punishment, you were able to actually enjoy some alone time around the manor. You were doing another last sweep with your eyes to see if there was any last minute things you could do before heading to your quarters for the evening. Passing the grand staircase, the familiar statures of the Young Lord and Sebastian were walking down. You move out of their path and give a respectful bow of the head. “Young Lord, where are you off to at this time of night? Do you need me to fetch a coat, it is quite brisk outside.” You offer, awaiting the reply.

“I’ve been summoned for the evening for a mere meeting. It’s quite the pain. Sebastian will fetch the coat.” He said plainly, obviously not wanting to leave he comfort of his manor for this meeting. As Ciel declared that he would wait in the carriage Sebastian took this brief moment to speak with you. “Y/n, I must thank you for helping clean up those buffoons’ multiple messes. You assisted me a great deal. Keep up the good work.” Praise from Sebastian was no simple feat so your night was made and you decided to go to the bath and celebrate as well as you could with the alone time you knew you had in the servants area.

To your disappointment you found out that your own fingers weren’t enough for your hunger. Sure you got off but it wasn’t what you craved. You needed something, well someone inside you. The sleepless nights began from there out. You slept, but not much. Another week passes and you’ve been going about your daily routine in hopes you’d collapse from exhaustion sooner or later. The same routine with barely any events or excitement. Sebastian was still distant and busy with his own duties to pay much mind to you, the only thing you’d get is a greeting and maybe a few words exchanged throughout, as well as the occasional glance or two. Those glances gave you hope that he was still interested in you.

It was finally your turn for the bath and you couldn’t have waited any longer.

You ran your water.

Undressed.

And stepped into the tub.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you began to slowly touch yourself in the bath, you couldn’t help but try again to not only relax yourself but pleasure yourself. You finish faster than normal yet still hungry for more, nevertheless you finish up your bath rather quickly afterwards. Stepping out of the bath room you return to your own room. You dress into your nightgown and lay in your bed trying to get warm quickly due to your damp hair catching every chill in the air.

You fall asleep.

You were woken up by the most subtle knock at the door, you flutter your eyes open as you heard the last few knocks and you rub your eyes and sit up quickly. Did you oversleep?? It was still dark. You hurry to the door and open it to see the figure of Sebastian standing in front of you.

“If I want some more fun. You’ll hear a knock. Now rest.” Echoed in your head as you look up at the red eyed butler.

“Good Evening.” He simply says, his voice lower and softer than usual.

“H-hello. Good Evening. Is all well?” You ask shyly as you step aside to invite him in. Watching as he enters your room you couldn’t help the thoughts flooding your mind. Your body reacting to his presence, you bit your lip as you wait for a hint, a confirmation, something to give you the okay to jump this man here and there. Sebastian looked over his shoulder before turning his body towards you. “I do hope I didn’t..” he began. His hand moving to unbutton his tailcoat. “..bother you.” He finished.

Oh my God.

His eyes were eating you alive. Those red orbs just drinking you in. Your body reacts immediately, soaking through your panties yet again, your skin getting goosebumps, the hair standing on the back of your neck. It was hitting you hard and he was only looking at you.

“Y-you’re never a bother, Sebastian. W-what can I h-help you with.”

Shit you’re stuttering. You wanted to sound flirtatious there. So much for that.

A low growl of amusement leaves his throat as he takes off his tailcoat and gloves. Watching this man strip the most basic clothing was the most attractive thing you have ever seen. “Don’t tell me you forgot what I said last time, Y/n.” The same echo plays.

“If I want some more fun. You’ll hear a knock.”

You remember that the knock was extremely subtle but yet, you somehow heard it while deep in sleep. Is that what he meant? No matter. He’s here now, undressing in front of you. Looking at you. Wanting you. You eye him up and down and you breathe deeply. “Would you like some assistance with your clothing?” You ask, miraculously without stuttering or stumbling your words. His eyebrow raises and his arms lower. “Please.” He simply says and you close the distance and began to undress this man. His skin smooth, cold, and gorgeous. You drink him in. Knowing if he came here on his own accord, you were about to get wrecked.

“Enjoying the show, dear?”

Wait did he really just use a pet name? No…Really? You take it without saying anything.

“Very much so..” you breathe out. Soon you feel two hands on your waist, gently grabbing your gown. “May I?” Ever the gentleman. “Of course.” You look up at him and his gaze sends another shiver down your entire body. The cold night air graces your skin and you couldn’t help but react a little to the suddenly exposed. Your arms hugged your body as you tried to get accustomed to the air around you, before you could a pair of hands grab your arms “Are you getting bashful on me or are you merely chilled?” He looked amused. You couldn’t help but grin ever so slightly. “Warm me up please?” A request? Are you insane? You’re lucky enough that Sebastian was here in the first place and not you’re making requests? “Well, since you asked so politely.” He replied. He is voice barely a whisper as he lifted you to the bed, your legs naturally wrapping around him as he placed you down. You didn’t want him far anymore, you needed him close, inside you. The lust you had for him was almost unnatural, yes you’re a horny bastard but it’s not ever this bad for one sole person. As handsome as he is, there was something threatening too. But none of that mattered in this moment, his hands dancing across your bare legs, teasing as he gets closer to your undergarment protecting your center. You didn’t realize the breath you were holding until you let it go from anticipation, your legs already beginning to tremble from his touch. “Darling y/n, you’re this excitable?” A subtle scoff of amusement escapes him as he began to take off your panties, a trail of your ‘excitement’ connecting you and the small piece of cloth as he slid them down. Your eyes meet his as he throws them aside, finally touching you. You bite your lip as he began to rub circles on you, your eyes rolling behind your eyelids. “Eyes on me.” He commanded lowly, you obey and look right at his red orbs that seemed to be glowing, you must already have the fog from pleasure and are seeing things a little funny…

You somehow stifled a moan when his fingers entered you and began to stroke your walls in a magical rhythm. You can’t already be building that fast, that’s just not fair. He could feel your body react and tighten round is long fingers. You were hopeless. “There’s the filthy girl I know” he says right as you’re inching towards your climax. “Don’t cum yet. I’m not finished.” Don’t cum? Excuse me? You do your best to hold it off but any flex or attempt you tried only made it feel better which obviously didn’t assist in any way. Your legs tense up and you bite your finger to hopefully hide the fact you just came. His eyes looked annoyed almost as he slipped his fingers out. “Tsk tsk, you can’t do one simple thing for me?” He asks and stands, all amusement vanished. “I-I’m sorry.” You mutter out between soft breaths. “Looks like I’ll stop playing nice then.” He undid his pants and got his cock into his hand, no words were exchanged just a simple look and you knew what he wanted. You moved and took him in your hand, stroking in a steady rhythm, hoping, praying you were starting to please him back, he made no sound of pleasure. Not a grunt not a sigh not even a twitch. You grit your teeth and part your lips, taking him into your mouth. “Good girl.” There it is. Now you got your praise, you’re happy. You bobbed your head and looked up at him, he looked regal almost with how he was looking down on you. His palm placed on the back of your head as he pushed himself deeper into your throat, almost making you gag on his length. A few more very difficult strokes of that and he released you from that torment and pushed you back onto the bed. “Take it like a good girl now.” He effortlessly slid inside you as he pulled your hips close. You gasp and put your hands over your mouth to suppress any unholy sounds that threatened to escape this room. He immediately began to pound your wanting pussy, reaching deep into your core and sending waves of euphoria through your body. How can someone feel this good? How can one person be so addicting? It was supernatural almost.

With one hand holding your hip and the other moving your hand away from your mouth, his perfect hair that was always in place, was slightly messier. “Let me hear those filthy little noises you try and hide.” Did he want the other staff to hear?? You still attempted to remain semi quiet as humanly possible as he ravaged your walls. As hot as it was you’d like to not have your coworkers know of your lewd sounds in the midnight hours, especially for WHO and why they came to be. That embarrassment may just kill you if anyone said anything about it.

Sebastian on the other hand didn’t like this ever so slightly louder moaning you’ve given him. Knowing you were holding back his quirked an eyebrow and moved the hand on your hip to your lower stomach, pushing a bit. This made his presence inside you that much more noticeable and you gasp at the sudden sensation change. It was intense, almost too much so. Dizziness taking over your mind as your eyes roll back once again, feeling a grip on your jaw, making you look at him once more. Fluttering your eyes open, seeing this visual come into focus was enough to send anyone to the pearly gates happily. He was enchanting, his figure over you, somehow glowing yet just too dark to make out many details below his waist, his glowing eyes piercing your soul and his melodic voice commanding you to be such a good girl for him. Your core yet again started to build another climax as your body temperature began to rise with the build. “You’re going to hold out for me this time, understand?” This was definitely a command and you did your best to obey. Adjusting your hips slightly so it wasn’t so much, at this point it was hopeless to not let those pornographic sounds leave your throat, you’ll just accept your fate with the embarrassment. As well as you were doing, pacing yourself as much as you could and trying to prevent another premature orgasm you kept building. “S-Sebastian please I-“ barely able to breathe out as he looked at you. “Beg for permission then.” His unamused gaze hurting your pride as you began to beg for your life. “Please Sebastian allow me to cum… I need to do bad and I- I can’t hold on m-much longer, I’ll be a good girl I swear it. Please let me cum.” The slew of words trailed out your mouth and flooded the air. Seemingly pleased with this begging he gave a single nod and upped his pace, the steady building became a rocket launch and you were thrown over the edge, your body tightening and all air leaving your lungs as you let out a long moan into a pillow you were able to grab in the process of it all. Sebastian fucked you through your orgasm and your entire body felt hot, like you were on fire. Again, how can someone feel this way? So perfect?

Without a moment to catch your breath, you felt your body flip onto your stomach, “on your knees.” He wasn’t done with you. As you obeyed and got on all fours he pushed your head down into the mattress below you. He slid right back into you without another word, picking up pace quickly afterwards. You thought it was intense before but this was a new level, thanks to whatever God that was looking out for you for the pillows and sheets that were stifling your noises. Although even with your moans muted the absolute vulgar sounds of both your bodies were filling the room, surely leaking into the hall. You’ve never felt such bliss though. Body on fire and mind like putty, you just prayed you could withstand this enough to pleasure him in return. Silent as ever he was, just breathing slightly heavier than his usual daily sighs. You looked back at him and his eyes were devouring your body, how it was reacting to him and just how good you were being for him. You didn’t move nor shy away from his intense pacing, you just took the borderline abuse. He slowed, coming to a bearable pace and allowing you to catch your breath. Your gaze unwavering from him as you two finally met eyes. “You’re doing much better than anticipated, yet it won’t be enough at this rate.” Blunt as always. “W-what do you mean?” You asked with dejection in your voice. Why weren’t you enough? Was your pussy just not pleasurable to this man?? “I do need you to be able to walk, I’d rather not have to find a replacement for you while you recover.” He explained, how could he hurt you that bad with just sex? I get being sore and maybe having to slow your walking pace a little bit not to the point of recovery time. You feel his cock slide out of you, a soft sigh of pleasure leaving your lips one last time as you sity on your now very dirty sheets.

“I’d hate for you to not finish…again..” you look down at your hands, embarrassed by your lack of skill. The sounds of clothing getting put on filled your ears, then along came a soft scoff of amusement. “Y/n, it’s perfectly fine. I appreciate your concern for my pleasure, but this was simply a test on how far I could push you without harming you. You impressed me, not the other way around.” In disbelief you looked up at him and you were met with his gentle smile that melted anyone lucky enough to witness it. “Now get some rest.” Not this again. He walked over and placed his lips onto your forehead, leaving a gentle kiss on your skin. Suddenly you became extremely fatigued, no exhausted and fell asleep right then. You fought it, you didn’t want to not at least walk him to your door like a decent human but alas, it overtook you faster than you could process.

“Rest”

That was the last thing you heard echo in your mind as you fell into darkness.

<><><><><><><>

Yay! You made it! Thanks again for waiting for long for this, I appreciate each of you. I still get notifications from the first one and I am so beyond touched with love and support. LMK if you want this to be a little series or something.

Bye!

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter X: To Be A Hidden Treasure…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: mentions of suicide, detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, body shaming, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

REMINDER: This is a heavier chapter that hits MOST of those warnings and your safety and comfort comes before everything! Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you would like clarification about this chapter’s subject matter.

Author’s Note: Hi Everyone! Thank you so much for reading Straight Laced, I'm so happy I can finally show you the last chapter of this exhilarating story. Including this chapter, you will have read 70,249 words of my writing, and I'm so, so grateful for your time. I have more to say about this fic all the way at the bottom of this post, so I'll keep this brief and leave you with one helpful hint: the part of the grand pas that Y/n is talking about can be found at 2:56 in the video I linked. With that, I hope this chapter is everything you've all been so patiently waiting for. And more.

Happy Reading!!

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER |

MASTERLIST

Postlude

February, 1889

The Imperial Ballet School, Russia

The frosty draft of St. Petersburg’s unforgiving winter slipped underneath The Imperial Ballet School’s multitude of long windows, sending a chill through the air. A thick layer of frost shrouded the dance studio’s large windows, both shielding the expansive room from both the outside, and the outside from seeing inside. 

The soft piano played the beginning notes of Giselle’s Act I scene where she realizes that the young man who had been courting her had been lying about his identity. The Duke Albrecht had been posing as a peasant to woo the beautiful village girl, but now, one of the woman’s competing suitors exposed his lie. With the truth exposed, Giselle fell into heartbroken panic. 

The first ballerina of two in consideration for the role started to arrange her body into the beginning steps into Giselle’s pained rendition of her previous pas de deux with the disguised duke. The dance, once loving and serene, was now supposed to be frantic and wrecked with pain, as displayed by the ballerina’s stricken expression. 

Seconds before she could begin, the ballet master knocked her cane into the floor, halting all—the ballerina, the music, any onlookers. When the cane came crashing down, nobody breathed.

“Anastasia Gusev. How many hours did you rehearse this week?” Irina Abramova demanded, scrutiny weighing heavily on her drawn eyebrows and pursed lips.

Without waiting for Natasha’s response, the ballet master continued in Russian, shaking her head, red-rouged lips pursed. “Whatever it was, it is far from enough. The combination has not even started yet, and I can already see you are doing it wrong. In fact, if I made you step outside naked and beg for change, holding a sign that says ‘I cannot dance,’ you would not feel anywhere close to the amount of shame I feel at this moment for considering you,” the retired prima ballerina noted. “I may even hate myself now. Because of you.” 

No matter the chill of the gelid weather that the winter sighed into the room, nothing was more biting than Irina’s commentary. Still, in the face of her heart shattering, Natasha held her chin high and rolled her shoulders back, biting down on the fact that she’d put in over 50 hours of work in that past week. She’d skipped most meals, most full nights of sleep, with the specific intent to secure Giselle. 

Now? The young ballerina felt her eyes sting with tears that threatened to fall. Fury squeezed at her chest.

Clearing her throat, Irina addressed the rest of the class. Her gnarled hands tapped her cane against the smooth floor, her onyx gaze alight with determination. Per usual, the ballet master kept her wiry gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, reminiscent of the ballerina bun she wore in her prime. 

“Does Anastasia here resemble our Giselle, right now? Does she portray a woman descending into madness after her lover has betrayed her? I want to see a heartbroken tour de force. I want to be rendered speechless from the sheer depth of emotion on your face.” 

Giving Natasha another bored once over, Irina looked disinterested. She addressed the class once more. “Honestly! Is anyone rendered speechless? I certainly am not.”

As Natasha expected, the rest of the company betrayed her, mumbling their doubts, shaking their heads, weakly suppressing their snide smiles. They never failed to disappoint her. Natasha bit her tongue, swallowing down her desire to challenge them to portray Act One’s infamous Mad Scene better than she. No one else wanted this role like she did.

The wrinkles marring Irina’s face creased with her satisfied expression, watching Natasha’s face redden. She was well-aware of the young ballerina’s hatred of her first name, her hatred of her company members. This humiliation was more effective than anything—more than the feeling of Irina’s cane digging itself into Natasha’s lower back to correct her posture, or dodging a swing at her lowering leg. Irina swung at lowering legs to inspire dancers to hold arabesques more firmly. 

The young dancer could withstand any pain, save for this public humiliation.

“Anastasia, show yourself to the barre. I am growing tired of your mediocrity—your intent to waste our time. Faina Nikotinova, you will be my Giselle. Anastasia, do try to improve. Before I send you outside to freeze some talent into you,” her eyes flashed meaningfully, insinuating that her earlier words were not just a threat. They were a promise If Natasha couldn’t improve her dancing. 

But she had. Irina was simply refusing to allow her to perform.

“You did not let me start,” Natasha snapped, raising her blue eyes to meet Irina’s. Her hands curled into fists, her manicured nails digging into her palms. Faina wasn’t half the dancer she was—her jumps were lazy, she was too chubby to last much longer. Irina had said it herself, and that was the most offensive aspect of this.

“There was no need to. Now, go away. Better yet, leave my school. I do not tolerate this attitude in my company and I have no desire to see you again,” Irina replied coolly, motioning for Faina to take the center of the floor. She tapped her cane against the floor to cue the piano back. 

Hot, angry tears brimmed in Natasha’s eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Fine. Fine. If Irina wished for Duck Butt to lead the company as Giselle, she was more than welcome to choose her and watch the company sink under her mediocrity.

The force Natasha slammed the door with caused the walls to tremble. The muffled laughter from behind her sparked molten rage to flow through her veins. Surely she’d go mad if she was made to face such a stunning defeat again.

May, 1890

The Royal Opera House

No one could compare to Natasha Gusev‘s Aurora in The Royal Opera House’s first and breathtaking run of Sleeping Beauty, the product of sleepless nights spent slaving at the barre. Spent rehearsing her expressions in a mirror, forcing herself to learn to tear up on command, envisioning the very moment that Faina stole her opportunity. 

Anastasia died in Petrograd. Natasha would never allow herself to be humiliated in such a way again. She’d sooner die.

Natasha practiced until she passed out, until her feet bled and swelled, and her legs cramped. She worked herself harder than Irina could ever dream of, drilling the same moves and sequences into her body until she could dance them in her sleep. 

The ballerina had fought for this, brandished her soul for it, pushed herself through classes that were taught in a language she couldn’t understand. The only language Natasha shared with Londoners was the French terminology used in ballet. She could hardly decipher the rest: not the abuse, not the praise. It took much longer for her to master English than it did for her to secure this coveted role.

And Natasha’s reward was thundering applause, night after night. Each adoring yell louder than the last. They had come to watch her, in spite of the lies that cursed school poisoned her mind with. She made this company the best in London—if not, Europe. She had no idea what came of Faina and The Imperial Ballet’s run of Giselle, but it didn’t matter.

Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for Natasha’s star to capture more attention than she had initially bargained for, either. Alongside the unabashed adoration for her dancing came competition for her. That was how she found herself at the center of William Wood’s attention—his gray eyes lingered on her, no matter where she found herself. 

They would narrow each time she met with a new subscriber, they’d scan her with consideration each time he pulled up a chair and watched the company rehearse. William liked to claim that he was merely interested in the artistic integrity of the show, but from the way he’d bite his lip and adjust his trousers, everyone knew better. Everyone understood that he was the heir to the business supporting the Opera House—everything would belong to him in a decade or so. 

Natasha was the center of her own world. She had her patrons to satisfy, the stage to alight with her talent. The ballerina made a careful effort to rebuff William without ever needing to speak with him. 

That was, until he outsmarted her one dawn. He’d waited in the Opera House’s main rehearsal room—Natasha’s favorite because of the tall mirrors that lined the walls. 

“Hello, there,” William said, flashing his most winning smile at her. He couldn’t have been much older than Natasha. “You’re the principal dancer, aren’t you?” The young man had been poised on his usual chair from the side of the studio, but he stood to meet her. 

“Yes,” Natasha’s words were clipped because she could see through his disposition. He knew who she was—he was pretending not to. “If you would excuse me—” she immediately took a step back, preferring to rehearse in private. Or anywhere William was not. The prima ballerina shouldered her bag and turned to leave, only to freeze at the sound of her full name.

“Anastasia is a powerful name. Did you know it means resurrection?” William asked, chancing several steps closer. He caught her wrist, but maintained a lax grip. She could pull away if she wished to. 

“My name is Natasha,” she corrected crisply, her blank expression unchanged. 

“I’m William Wood,” he ignored her, gently guiding her closer. Now, she could see a kaleidoscope of different gray shades, ranging from near-white to intense storm clouds. “Did you know my name means desire?” 

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed, unimpressed with his onomastics lesson. “How lovely,” she answered flatly, extricating her hand. Now, his sterling gaze landed on her thin lips, wanting to kiss her, presumably. “I really should be going. I have to rehearse—if you know that I am the prima ballerina, then…” leave me be, she wanted to conclude.

Instead, Natasha let her words hang in the air, allowing William to put them together on his own.

“Look—wait, all I mean is…” William paused, moistening his lips. Clearly, he was unused to the prospect of no.  “You’re flawless. And I would simply like the chance to…”

“To what?” Natasha asked indignantly, allowing the offense she took to show on her face. Normally, she wasn’t quite so harsh against these advances—she had a tendency to simply allow herself to enjoy the attention she received from such men—but William? Now? The sun hardly had a chance to start the day, and this man had put all of this time and planning into seducing her? 

“I like you. I would like the chance to get to know you. Beyond the dancing because there’s clearly so much more to get to know,” he clarified, softening his expression into something more intimate. “Please, Natasha.” 

The ballerina was unsure if she relented because of William’s honeyed words, the way his steel gaze reminded her of a singular spotlight focused on her, or because he was the heir to the Opera House, but she felt her resolve crumble. After all, there were plenty of other ballerinas who glowed with envy of her in the first place. Natasha loved to imagine how their hatred of her would intensify with William Wood courting her. That thought would feel better than any seduction tactic he could try on her.

It took weeks of flowers, lavish gifts, and fiery touches stolen between rehearsals before Natasha agreed to marry him. They were in William’s Southampton home, entangled with one another in his bed, unclothed. Sweaty after a round of passionate sex because it made William tired and affectionate. The perfect combination for an agreeable mood in a man. 

“Marry me. Be my wife,” the man practically begged, kissing Natasha’s knuckles. It wasn’t the first time he asked, his father John having pressured him into proposing ever since the rumors of their sneaking around began. It was indecent behavior of William—not unexpected, but embarrassing to the Woods, their eldest son messing around with a foreign dancer. “Please. You’re all I want, Nat,” he sighed, burying his face into the crook of her neck, kissing the clammy skin there as well. 

No one in the company could claim that Natasha was the principal dancer because she was sleeping with William, either. Her talent more than spoke for itself, illuminating the stage just as much as the spotlights did. The ballerina was addicted to this pining of his, the fortune she’d come into by taking his name. He was a puppy of a man that would be at her side, hanging onto her every word, touch, and glance so long as she could maintain her perfection. It just so happened that he had direct access to generations of wealth and influence.

“All right, Will. We can get married,” she relented, only for the man to pull her into an intense kiss, his fingers running through her unruly brown curls. 

For months, her life was blissful. 

Natasha maintained her position as prima ballerina, and they were married, which also ended her responsibilities at the dance foyer. Being married to William gave Natasha the right to all of the Opera House’s paperwork, granting her information on each of her company members, the ballet’s revenue—noting the spike in sales with delight, considering it had come in tandem with her publicity. Having a run of the same show continue for so long was unprecedented, but Natasha’s performances sold out each night. The company was only beginning its considerations for the next ballet’s lead.

Accordingly, Natasha would dance almost day and night. She ate once a day, if she remembered to, more intent on maintaining the lean body that kept jealous suitors leering. The more they looked, the more William spent for her, the more he doted on her. All the more fulfilled the young dancer felt, the more she desired.

Another starring role, more lovers, more press coverage. More rehearsal time. 

Natasha etched the hard work into her bones... until it broke her. 

She remembered searing pain in her hip, crashing to the floor. And she found herself undone against the rehearsal room’s floor, the clammy wood cold against her cheek. Yelling out for William, lips pursed with pain she refused to allow to surface past. She would never allow herself to cry. 

The doctors had given her a prescription for morphine powder for the pain. They suggested she stop dancing for the next year or two, but the morphine had done plenty for her discomfort. Enough for Natasha to refuse giving her position to a ballerina who couldn’t have put a quarter of sacrifice into earning her role. 

No—anyone else interested would need to pry it out of her cold, dead grip. 

Each day, Natasha’s extensive routine only grew harder to sustain: rehearsing for the company’s future run of Mlada and perfecting any movement she might have mishandled as Aurora from the evening before. She would mix the morphine powder into her tea between rehearsals, between acts, before she met her husband each night.

Stopping now would be a death sentence with early casting for Mlada so close…there was no doubt the director would care to cast Natasha in the lead if she seemed unreliable. 

Anyone who wanted it enough would see themselves through, Natasha reminded herself. In time, my body will learn to keep up. 

Smile through it. Hold back your tears. Smile through it.

Natasha held her life together through the painkiller and sheer force of will, but it was only a matter of time before the injury became unbearable. Overly stiff, Natasha’s hips began to lock, ruining her range of motion. She could no longer hold her arabesques. 

The pain had spread down to her groin and her backside, those joints as good as rusting door hinges, stiffening with each movement.

Weeks after her initial fall, Natasha collapsed on the rehearsal floor. Again. Only this time, she couldn’t hold her tears at bay, an incredibly dark (and realistic) part of the young woman knowing fully well that it had been her last day in pointe shoes. 

“You need a break. Be reasonable, Nat.” William ordered bluntly, shoving the cane in her hands days after. Weary of her and the same tedious argument. “Would you prefer to need a full-time wheelchair before 25?”

Natasha held the ivory cane in her hands, testing its weight. She frowned at the medical accessory, feeling her life slip away each second she held the cursed thing. Her husband, as typical of him, didn’t understand. Ballet had been her purpose—she’d been put on the Earth to capture the breath of an audience. And now?

She was a disturbing failure. How could she look at herself in the mirror?

“Will…” Natasha fixed her hard gaze on her husband, reading his mounting frustration with her like a book. 

“Shut. Up.” She all but threw the cane back at her husband and the offending doctor who brought it into their home. She slammed the door behind her in an attempt to charge back to their shared bedroom. Though unsurprisingly, she only accomplished a few short paces before her hip locked, failing Natasha’s next step and sending her to the ground again.  

The former ballerina couldn’t hold back her tears, this time. They fell in droves, in pained sobs. The grievous sound of an ingénue knowing her life was over.

“Come on, Nat,” William said in the same tired voice, attempting to help lift her off the floor. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Natasha waved him off haphazardly, hiding her face. She heard William's heavy, retreating steps.  

Nearly a year into Natasha’s injury, she’d become proficient with her walking cane. Technically, she could hobble clumsily without the assistance, but watching the rest of the company’s pitying gaze at the sight of her ungainliness became overwhelming. If she was to be the Opera House’s new ballet master and director, no one could pity her.

There was no room in ballet for pity. Only perfection.

So, she preferred to test the dancers around her. Break the weak ones—the ones who turned to dancing out of desperation, failing to understand that it was an elusive skill that required years of nurturing. She liked to push them until they fractured like a mirror, leaving the company on their own accord or giving Natasha a valid reason to excuse them. Particularly the ones her husband was bedding behind her back and mortifying her with. 

“I’m so sorry, Natasha, I didn’t even– I don’t even want him!” Norah Vincent cried out, “please just listen to me, please!” 

The young ballerina chased her director up the cement stairs leading from the Opera House’s lowest floor—where the largest rehearsal room was located—to the first floor. It was late at night, and there wasn’t a soul on the property, save for them. Natasha had reserved the pleasure of informing Norah that she knew fully well of the liberties she’d taken with William until they were alone, more interested in watching the young woman’s composure implode as a private show. To ensure such an outcome, Natasha waited until the end of their private rehearsal to inform Norah of her termination. The ballerina didn’t even have the chance to unlace her pointe shoes. 

“No. You will make yourself scarce from my company. I like Analisse better for Mlada, so you were bound to be let go soon, anyhow,” Natasha answered indifferently, keeping her face impassive. She knew that the aloofness in her statement would make Norah feel just as worthless as she was as a dancer.

“I don’t understand, please. I need this work. Please. Just allow me one more chance,” Norah continued, struggling to keep pace with Natasha. 

“You sleep with my husband, and even worse, you continue to curse my stage with your mediocrity, and you have the audacity to ask me for another chance? After all of the chances I’ve already given you?” The ballet master plunged her cane against the top of the final stair for leverage to reach the top. “I told you that if I gave you Mlada, you would need to work on your stamina and flexibility night and day. I see no change.” 

Natasha finally turned around to face the weeping ballerina, watching her trudge up the remaining stairs. Crying was so ugly.

“I swear I practice every day, I-I-I…” Norah couldn’t even decide which claim to refute first. “I only…I just,” she wiped her face. “I love this company, and dancing, and…” she begged. “I do my very best each and every day, I practice, I stretch, I observe, I listen. Don’t you see?”

Norah still had a functioning body. Her health and mobility. All the time in the world. There was no excuse. Natasha practically gift wrapped and handed Norah her career.

The director’s head pounded, frustrated tears begging to fall from her eyes. What was there to not understand? Norah simply didn’t want the success enough or she would give every spare moment to cultivating her skills.

“Stop. Blubbering.” Natasha ordered sharply, turning on her heel to continue to her office. Norah had just stepped up to the level floor, the expansive staircase behind her. 

“N-No! I need you to hear me! Haven’t you ever made a mistake? You know, I don’t understand why you always have to demand perfection! From everyone! No matter how hard we try or how hard we–” 

“That’s enough!”

Without another thought, Natasha found herself turning around. Her cane fell to the floor as she put all of her strength into shoving Norah down the stairwell. Of course, it hadn’t been her plan to dispose of the ballerina in such a way. Really, it should have been horrifying, but Natasha couldn’t force herself to feel any bit of remorse. Her squealing had given her quite a headache.

In fact, when Natasha failed to find a pulse from the young woman’s lifeless body, she felt the first sense of true gratification she’d felt in months. As her shoulders had been relieved of a burden as heavy as the world.

And each time afterwards, it only grew easier. Each time, Natasha planned a bit more intricately. She could only win: if the Yard took notice, all signs would point to her power-drunk husband, leaving Natasha to his assets. Revenge.

It became a game of strategy: who, when, where, how. 

Louise, Georgina, and Mabel were a blur over the course of the next few weeks. They disappeared, Natasha explained they couldn’t handle the burdens from the company and resigned, no one questioned her. Most ballerinas didn’t have family, the profession often a last resort for income. The public deemed them prostitutes: unworthy of care.

Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse had moved to new companies, but that didn’t stop her. Natasha knew who her husband had seen. Who betrayed her. They wore their guilt on their sleeves. It didn’t matter if they transferred to new companies—how could they be allowed to live after betraying their mentor? They were mediocre ballerinas, anyhow, merely ensemble members that Natasha stuck in the back of formation. 

The Yard was never finding them.

Eliza had a host of lethal allergies. All it took was a well-timed cross-contamination—it was only a matter of time. 

Janet was weak. Natasha probably could have asked the girl to jump off of the Tower Bridge and she would have done it, surely. 

Amelié never noticed that her perfume bottle was tampered with. Dimethylmercury was a life-changing discovery on Natasha’s part. Honestly, Natasha wished she’d used it with all of the nuisances that came before her… and after. 

The new success should have satisfied Natasha. Until Maisie—her first mistake. As if marrying some fraud was a feat to be proud of. Maisie thought it appropriate to inform Natasha that she was leaving the Opera House company for a new opportunity, an unseemly topic at her husband’s gallery reveal. Somehow, Terrance had offered to co-found his ballet company with Maisie as the star. And this came a week after the Yard fell for the trap Natasha had set, having followed her carefully planned trail of breadcrumbs that implicated her dear, cheating husband for murdering his company members. She simply had to make an appearance at the event to save face for the Wood family—setting the narrative straight before the press could.

Natasha would have been able to successfully send William to prison in her stead, had she not lost her temper the night of that bloody gala. She;d only gone to safe face after William’s arrest, after all. To manage the poor publicity his infidelity would poison Natasha’s hard work with.

“My husband is renovating the Pavillion Theatre. You know what that means? It means that I don’t need you pestering me anymore! You’re practically an old maid, a bloody relic now, you know that?” Maisie grinned, euphoric with the ability to finally speak freely. She’d asked Natasha to step out from the museum with her, and the ballet master had suspected it was to discuss something unseemly when there was a lack of witnesses around. 

“You have no idea how much we all hate you, Natasha.”

Those were Maisie’s last words. Because Natasha had pulled out William’s Flintlock Pocket Pistol and shot her. She hardly had any time to ensure Maisie was dead before fleeing the scene, tucking her walking cane under her arm. Best of luck with your new company, Blondie. 

After that blunder, Natasha had a choice. Herself, or Y/n Y/l/n, a French girl who happened upon the wrong man and his misguided investigation at the wrong time. In Natasha’s haste, she’d also lost control again, landing her at a criminal sentencing at London’s City Hall. 

Y/n was willing to destroy her opponents to succeed. Y/n had been the first ballerina Natasha had finally considered to be somewhere near the eminence of her own former glory, and had ended her, handing her a crushing defeat. 

Natasha should have put the dimethylmercury in Y/n’s make-up much sooner, arsenic in that wine she self-soothed with. By the time Natasha had offered Y/n that toast, there was no chance that she would have accepted a drink from her. Waiting had sealed Natasha’s fate to this wretched courtroom. 

Thundering applause and scarce cheering pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She must have missed her sentencing, lost in her ruminating, judging by the immediate lift in the courtroom’s somber atmosphere. 

This entire audience wanted her punished for her choices. Why? She felt the magnitude of her decisions spoke for themselves.

The former prima ballerina stared back into the prima ballerina’s vacant gaze from the defendant’s table, attempting to dissect the poison Y/n regarded her with. 

For the first time since St. Petersburg, Natasha could confidently say what Giselle was supposed to look like.

November 25, 1895

London City Hall

“Anastasia Natalia Gusev-Wood, this court sentences you to lifelong service in the Reading Gaol Correctional Facility with no chance of appeal,” the judge announced. 

The room— the press, sparse onlookers including the few bereaved family members of victims, cheered, but the woman only stared at you. She didn’t react to her sentencing or the relief that erupted from the room. All she fixated on was you, her face illegible. 

You refused to give the killer the satisfaction of analyzing your mood, the opportunity to insert herself in your head. Violent narcissists like her craved attention like flies to fruit. Instead, you released your captive breath and sent a tired look to Ciel to signal your readiness to leave. This woman was nobody to you: the result of a vain monster picking and choosing which lessons to take from ballet.

It was an art form before it was a competition. And certainly, no competition should ever lead to bloodshed. 

That was why you failed to feel any semblance of relief, even as you watched the officers escort Natasha away in handcuffs. You had still failed so many of your kin: eleven dead, their stories stolen and suppressed. The killer had painted them as weak after their deaths, dishonoring them, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. You couldn’t have been more wrong to ignore each and every one. 

You hardly remembered the sound of Norah Vincent’s voice. The color of her hair. In fact, save for Amelié, you didn’t know any of these victims on a personal level—you remembered how tall Mabel was because you were envious; Louise had trouble with her stamina because she was newer to the company; Georgina always had a smile on her face, she let you borrow her scissors to break in a new pair of shoes. That was all you could recall. Other than these minute instances, you hadn’t bothered to concern yourself with anyone besides yourself, and failed to notice these disappearances happening right under your nose. The Yard couldn’t even find the bodies of Norah, Mabel, Louise, Georgina, Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse, severely limiting the investigation you and Ciel could accomplish for them.

Even worse, you failed to piece together the evidence pointing to Natasha and refused to listen to Ciel’s concerns. You had allowed your personal feelings to erode your judgment, delaying the investigation. 

How could you feel a sense of victory, when so much had been lost? 

The only way you could proceed was honoring them in death, especially now that their true killer was brought to justice.

“Ciel, I want to bring the flowers over before it becomes too dark” You requested, referring to the bouquets you asked Sebastian to arrange. Given that most of the victims did not have any next of kin— or were the sole earners for their destitute relatives— Ciel personally took on their burial expenses. Apparently, he had a personal contact working in the burial industry. An Undertaker. 

Additionally, you wished to always honor their memorials with fresh florals. 

“Certainly. Our work is complete here, for now,” Ciel answered, ending the officer he’d been talking to away with a nod. 

Later 

The Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park

The sun started to descend below the treeline, casting a shadow over the graves lined in front of you and Ciel. Norah Vincent, Louise Crowley, Georgina Dawson, Mabel Hughes, Sophia Ludwig, Harriet White, Analisse Sterling, Eliza O’Malley, Janet Fischer, and Amelié Langston. All of the victims, save for Maisie Stannard. Distraught, her husband opted to bury her with his family.

“Do you think this really makes a difference?” You asked Ciel, standing from your kneeling position. You dirtied the front of your plain dress from kneeling in the dirt to arrange the flowers around the headstones. It was too cold to plant them, but they did make a lovely display of white and baby blue among the warm autumnal foliage.

The wind made the bare tree branches rustle and their fallen leaves dance, but thankfully, it left the white flowers you placed unmussed. You placed a combination of daisies, blue irises, and calla lilies around them, hoping their serene beauty might bring some peace to the souls around. Though most of these graves were missing bodies, you still hoped their spirits would resonate with the resting place. Body and mind were separate entities, no?

“I believe it does.” Ciel answered, dusting off his knees. He righted himself after you, having helped you arrange the flowers. You were clear that the flowers were a project you were set on seeing through with your own two hands, and apparently, that resonated with the Earl. Enough for him to accompany you and even help. You vowed that you would visit these graves as often as you needed to keep the flowers fresh. 

Remembrance was the least you could do, given that you hardly remembered most of the ballerinas in life.

Stepping back to admire the full picture of your work, you lit a cigar. You always kept a small humidor box in your deep coat pocket, along with a small knife to cut the cap and cedar spills to light it.

“My aunt adored the color red,” Ciel recalled, nostalgia softening his stoic face. “Sebastian and I filled the church with red rose petals, and I brought her favorite scarlet gown—she would have thought that white gown they had her in the most plain thing she’d ever seen. I believe she rested easier, knowing that she was being honored.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, looking up from your igniting cigar to properly look at Ciel. He’d gone through those extra lengths just to make his aunt’s soul feel better at rest, despite never being able to know if the efforts made a difference. And yet, he liked to act like the most selfish man to walk the Earth. But he wasn’t. Far from it. Instead, he pulled at your heart and tugged at your stomach. “She must have enjoyed that. I’m sorry to hear you lost her.”

“I believe she did,” Ciel said, addressing your apology with a miniscule smile. It was barely there, no more evident than the corners of his lips pulling upward. He watched you take a long drag of your cigar in slow, deliberate puffs, as always. “And I think these women know that you brought their killer to justice, above all. Surely that matters a great deal to them.”

Watching smoke from your lips dissipate into the atmosphere, you chuckled sadly. You shook your head, rejecting the notion that you brought Natasha to justice. “You would have caught onto her sooner without me—you mistrusted Natasha from the start. You warned me last week, and I’m confident she tried to poison me that night.”

“She did a masterful job of framing her husband. I would have arrested him regardless, and I wouldn’t have access to investigating either of them without you. I’ve told you once, I shall repeat it a thousand times, if I have to: you were instrumental to our investigation,” Ciel took a short pull from your cigar. The days where he would admonish you for the habit felt like decades past.

Our investigation. You could have sworn your traitorous heart skipped a beat. Your palms felt clammy. After you confronted Natasha and her subsequent arrest last week, you and Ciel had been, for the most part, cautious around one another. The two of you were unsure of the boundaries that mutual forgiveness meant without a proper conversation. There simply hadn’t been any time, given the legal chaos that erupted between convicting a wife and husband for separate, yet related, crimes.

“A thousand times, you say? I may have to consider that request,” you said, smiling to denote your joke. Your cheeks felt traitorously warm, your smile unfortunately bashful. The Earl did this to you without trying.

Because you still loved him. The first man to notice anything about you beyond your looks and your dancing. The first man to care for your wellbeing, and take the time to unlearn the bitter beliefs that his class instilled into him. He fought for you, even when you had demanded he didn’t. But that didn’t mean he didn’t reject you the morning after you gave yourself to him. It certainly didn’t erase the fact that he’d danced with another woman in front of you. 

The misunderstanding between you may as well have been a chasm at the time. But now, you were each gradually bridging that gap in equal strides. 

Was that fair? You supposed not— Ciel was made to dance with another woman, just as fiercely as her duchess bullied her way into afternoon tea with him. And she had lied to you. Ironically, given the way she’d considered you vulgar. Was it not vulgar to lie in British polite society? Or was it only acceptable because she was lying to a commoner? 

“So long as you don’t overdo it, I shall oblige,” the Earl relented, meeting your eyes in the longest bout of eye contact you shared in two weeks. You almost forgot the sheer depths of sea Ciel’s eye held, and the intelligence those sapphire leagues captured. Mesmerizing—it was a shame that the fire damaged his other eye so severely. He, like you, was alone. Save for his staff. 

You accepted your cigar back, enjoying the taste of it on your tongue, the heat in your lungs a burning constant. You closed your eyes for a moment, appreciating the crisp air. Less than a month away from winter, you relished in this weather. Chilly, but not freezing. The best weather for a cigar. 

“I…” you started, your face red. “Thank you, Ciel,” you said, a touch more earnestly than you had meant to. But honesty was the only way to move forward, you felt. 

“Ballet…the aesthetic differs from all other professions. We have to hide all of our pain and discomfort behind a smile— make an illusion for our audiences.” There was no retreating, now that you’ve started. Ciel had already seen behind your facade—there was no meaning in reinforcing capitulated defenses. “Growing up in it from a young age, I suppose… I started to hide too much. I stopped trying to be close with others, and I-I thought you didn’t care for me anymore…” you admitted. 

You thought about the way all of your ballet instructors reminded you to maintain a pleasant face during rehearsals and performances, even though all of the contortions were unnatural to the human body. The best ballerina in the world was worthless if she couldn’t shroud her pain behind her character.

No matter how you felt, you had to maintain a pleasant face for the audience, the ballet patrons that paid your school (and later, the Opera House) for the right to your body. All to allow you to make a salary that kept you just above the poverty line. You had never dropped your pleasant face until you realized how false it was, the product of habit and sheer necessity. Everything had to appear effortless, even when it was excruciating. That was the industry.

You couldn’t help but chuckle; not even two weeks ago, you would’ve defended these sacrifices.

“I can see that now,” Ciel admitted, taking a guilty pull from your cigar. You both watched the smoke escape into the atmosphere. The light of dusk made the sky look pink. “I must have been a classist fool to assume that all aspects of this profession happened at dancer’s volition.” 

“You were certainly a classist fool,” you affirmed with a playful smile. After taking a final hit from the cigar, you extinguished it beneath your boot heel. 

“I am aware, thank you,” Ciel answered pointedly, making the corners of your lips form a smile. 

“Though unfortunately, most everyone still thinks that way,” he took your hand in his. The Earl ran his thumb over the top of your hand. You both wore gloves now, a measure against the cold especially now that autumn was in full swing with winter just on the horizon. 

You hummed in response, knowing fully well the social abuse you’d take for having Ciel at your side. For daring to love a man this privileged society deemed above your stature. Gwen, that miserable woman, was only the beginning. But you were no stranger to critique—nothing could possibly sting as much as some of the commentary you’ve suffered in ballet school and in your professional career. You were strong.

“But it is not a tradition I will allow to continue,” Ciel said resolutely, meeting your eyes again. “I brought accounts of the prostitution and power imbalances to Her Majesty, and she has decided to purchase the Opera House. She will also be instituting a series of Theatre Company Reform Acts to ensure it ends here—Swan Laws, they want to refer to them.”

The meaning wasn’t lost on you. 

You didn’t know how to start thanking him. Instead, you threw your arms around him, your gloves curling into his thick coat. Hot tears slid down your cheeks, they had been slightly chilled from the soft wind, the cold chapping your lips somewhat as well. 

“I do not know where to begin,” you mumbled, settling into the way the Earl’s stiff posture relaxed to accommodate you. His coat was soft against your cheek, his arms came around your back to embrace you. You let your eyes flutter closed for a moment, appreciating the safety and strength he offered you. 

Ciel held you close, his hand rubbing your back languidly as you sniffled, your appreciative tears  rolled down your cheeks. “I will always be endlessly fascinated and enamored by you. It would be a privilege if you could reconsider being with me, after the confusion I caused you. I… tend to push the wrong people away. But you? I never could have asked for a better partner for this investigation, and otherwise.”

A new warmth spread in your cheeks. Your heartbeat thumped with hope, light from Ciel’s confession. How could you reject that? He saved you. He listened to you. He seemed sure.

You wiped away any tears left on your face. Words were never a strength of yours, you had always thought. 

“Ciel, I want to be with you,” you declared confidently, your smile glowing as you looked up at the Earl’s thoughtful expression. The worry he tried to hide from you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as you kissed him, his familiar lips immediately responding to yours. A gentle hand held the left side of your jaw, lightly brushing strands of your hair out of your face.  

“That is an honor I do not and will never take lightly again,” Ciel promised, his pensive gaze inspecting your face. He was the most exacting perfectionist you’d ever met; you could never decide what he was thinking when he regarded you so closely. 

“I’m not sure you could if you tried,” you affirmed, a shiver running down your back. The wind picked up, causing the trees around you to rustle and whisper. 

“I’ll have Sebastian bring the carriage around. It’s getting rather dark out here, now,” Ciel mumbled against your lips, pressing on one more innocent kiss before he retreated, keeping your hand in his as he guided you out of the cemetery. 

December 13, 1895

The Royal Opera House 

From your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra begin to play The Nutcracker’s overture, a jovial melody on strings. The chatter of the live audience was palpable through the thin walls, you could hear the theatre fill with attendees. The run of this show was delayed an extra two weeks as your company appointed new interim leadership to run the performances—- she was one of the ballet teachers who worked under the Woods. She used to teach the classes for the newest ballerinas, the most patient of the staff.

Without the previous director and the short hiatus between the end of Swan Lake and this premiere, the entire company was revitalized. You could hear it in the music. You could see it in everyone’s faces. Rehearsal the past week was magnetic: you were all ready for this evening. 

You beamed at yourself in your vanity mirror, enamored with your matching pink corset and tutu combination. Humming the intense melody of the Act II pas de deux with the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, you started to pin your tiara to the top of your head, careful not to ruin your sleek bun. You were made of pure anticipation and energy, a sense of certainty that you had never known in your life. Once you secured the accessory, you dabbled extra lip rouge and blush to your face in hope. Stage lights always washed out performers’ complexions. 

“You look brilliant,” Ciel told you, rising from the loveseat to the side of your vanity. He closed his copy of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King and left it on the small table to the side of the chair. The ballet adaptation of the story was fairly recent in comparison, having premiered three years ago in St. Petersburg. Your production was one of the first to happen in England. Despite having significant plotting differences from the novella, the Earl insisted on reading the source material prior to watching your opening performance. 

“How do you feel? Will you be alright if I join the rest?” he asked you, understanding that the overture signaled the audience to find their seats. 

You couldn’t have smiled more, your wide, childish grin was unbreakable. For the first time, it was starting to strain your cheeks. You had everything and more than you could’ve possibly asked for: the greatest love you’d ever felt, your stomach was full, your costume sparkled. All of this on the heels of a short performance hiatus that left you more rested than ever, each day supplemented with dance class and rehearsal to keep your body in shape during the break. You’d never had so much strength going into a performance. Ever. 

“I am indestructible, Ciel,” you answered, rolling onto the platforms of your pointe shoes for added height. Kissing the Earl left his lips a bright shade of pink, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I shall take my leave for the time being then, mon trésor,” Ciel said, employing that endearing name you loved so much. His treasure. “If you might need me, you know where to look. And I will meet you back here afterwards.” 

Ciel made a sizable donation to the theater to ensure that the box on to the right of the stage was exclusive to him. Although Her Majesty took ownership of the property, she could not dedicate state funding without the Parliament; the Opera House would have needed to function without two week’s worth of performance revenue, had Ciel not intervened. He’d been watching from the box during your final dress rehearsal yesterday, and watching you rehearse your arrangements hours earlier. When Ciel could steal time away from his executive work for his company, he managed to immerse himself in your career, playing the piano when you rehearsed at home, and now, publicly supporting your debut as The Sugar Plum Fairy. 

“Thank you. Watch closely—I will be dancing for you,” you sent the Earl a playful wink as he left your dressing room. He left a parting kiss on your knuckles so as not to ruin your makeup. 

While you were heavily featured in most of the scenes of Swan Lake, now your appearance as Sugar Plum was concentrated into short, intense scenes back to back in the second act. That made your stamina all the more important as you needed to be regal and in control, detail-oriented with almost no breaks. 

That required every ounce of strength in your lower legs particularly, but you were prepared, when it came time. You were strong and fortified, learning to accept that as your vehicle, your body was beholden to better care. This full grand pas de deux consisted of a duet between you and Antoine, who played the Sugar Plum Fairy’s Cavalier—her romantic interest, followed by the Cavalier’s solo variation, your solo variation after, and finally, you both danced together again in the coda, or the finale. 

You were all but a firecracker. Knowing you had someone in the audience who mattered to you, feeling your body sufficiently rested and fed, were frankly magical sensations. For the past two weeks, Sebastian had you on an incredibly balanced food regiment— he suggested you eliminate the word diet from your vocabulary in a broader effort to reframe your thoughts around food— and you prioritized a full night of rest. The butler even had you dipping your feet in iced water after long rehearsals to reduce swelling and inflammation. You had no idea. 

Hard work was not equivalent to dragging your body through abuse each day and night. Skipping meals and sleep did not make you a better prima ballerina—it only made you vulnerable to injury.

In fact, with all of this care reinforcing your natural talent, you could have fought an army. You had already proven yourself a valiant soldier, maybe even more than you were a perfect heroine. You embodied many roles rather well. 

Now, your characters danced for Clara’s honor in Act II, signifying their gratefulness for her and the Nutcracker’s victory against the Mouse King in Act I’s battle scene. This grand pas came at the end of the celebration after numerous ensemble characters— Arabian princesses, Russian Cossacks, Spanish chocolate, as well as Dewdrop and her Flowers. 

You were serene yet playful, encapsulating the magnanimous fairy. You were one with both your partner and the music, the perfect unit. The Sugar Plum Fairy knew who she was quite well, independent of her Cavalier. Still, they moved together, perfectly in tune as the music built to its climax. You stopped on the exact same stage marks, your arms reached into the same space, even your legs mirrored one another. The Sugar Plum’s Cavalier lifted her confidently—there was no hesitation in the escort’s hold— he never once dropped her.

Even as he lifted his significant other atop his shoulder, Cavalier was unwavering. This strength was the physical manifestation of his love for his dear fairy: supporting her, reliably catching her in one of your favorite moments of the show. Running from stage right, you leapt into Antoine’s grip in the center of the stage. Your fingertips nearly touched above your head in the standard fifth position. 

At your high perch, you could only think to peer at the box where you knew the love of your life was watching you. While you couldn’t see any distinctive faces from the stage, all you cared to know was that Ciel was there. For you. 

You’d never been in such a partnership before, the object of someone’s genuine care and interest. Sure, you’d been a plaything, a temporary trophy to trifle with and discard when your novelty subsided. But no one had ever deemed you a treasure. Someone always worthy of an apology, protection, someone worthy of love—the sacrifice and hard work that came with it. All that value seemed to be hidden away, like precious gems. 

Catching you by the waist, Antoine tilted the upper half of your body towards the floor for a moment. Moving quickly to maintain momentum, he used the leverage to face the audience and place you back steadily on the platforms of your pointe shoes. You danced in tandem with one another, flawlessly showcasing the secure love between your characters: the adoring way the Cavalier cared for the Sugar Plum, and her own adoring trust in him as she jumped into his arms once again. He lifted her high, and she held him close. 

The Earl supported you, and you trusted him implicitly. 

On your pointe shoes, you let yourself tip backwards, knowing Antoine would catch you with the same certainty Ciel would kick down a door. For you. The Cavalier caught Sugar Plum by her waist and her extended leg, lifting slightly only to resettle her at his side. The characters were a couple in love. 

At the end of your second premiere as prima ballerina, you didn’t linger to further absorb the applause in front of you. Instead, you hurried back to your dressing room because you knew the most important person was waiting for you behind the curtains.

Epilogue 

“Ciel!” Your Earl had been awaiting you in the backstage wings, paces away from where you exited the stage. He’d opted to wear a black evening suit for this occasion, the raven suit making his deep hair and ultramarine eye all the more conspicuous. Much like the night you met him, it was a number composed entirely of neutral shades. Apparently, a tailored suit on the man came as natural as leotards and restrictive pointe shoes came to you. 

With the same intensity as the Sugar Plum Fairy had, you bounded towards your lover and held him close to you, in spite of the heat your body carried and the sweat that slicked your skin. You couldn’t help but snap to his side like an opposing magnet, your face burying into the side of his neck when you lifted yourself en pointe. He caught you just as Sugar Plum's Cavalier would have.

“You put on quite a show,” Ciel told you, pride palpable in his warm tone. “That was masterful. You always are.” An arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand flat against your bare back. His leather glove felt cold against your skin, a welcome change from the blazing stage lights. You swore that one day, they would cause you sunburn.

You were exhausted. Your heart pounded, droplets of sweat fell down your neck tracing the side of your spine. Your breaths came in hard bursts, your lungs working to their limit. The muscles in your legs and feet were molton. But you smiled in spite of this pain, and not out of necessity for once. It was because of the sheer love you had for this man.  Your heart beat for him—the slightest quirk of his lips as he watched you, the unsuppressed chuckle in his chest from your question.

“No flowers for me?” You smarted playfully, pulling away before you could damage your costume from the embrace. Not to mention, you weren’t anxious to allow the rest of the company free access to your private relationship with Ciel. You knew that The Queen’s Guard Dog had an infinite supply of enemies and British society had countless newspapers cautiously watching you. They were waiting for you to fail, but you would never give them the satisfaction. 

“I like to think I have something a little better in store for you than flowers,” your Earl’s arm remained around your waist, helping support your worn body between the bustling backstage to your dressing room. The moment the door locked behind the both of you, asked Ciel to unclip your corset, overwhelmed with the need to get out of your suffocating costume. As much as you adored its shining accents and the pink, it grew burdensome after expending every last bit of your energy. 

“What for? I mean, what could be better than flowers?” you quirked an eyebrow, your smile lopsided. Ciel never failed to bring you a bouquet, even when your courtship had been a ruse. You adored them every time, the least materialistic person.

You hurriedly unlaced your pointe shoes, stepped out of your tutu and stockings, and clipped on a simple navy blue gown.

“I suppose, they will just wither and die, eventually. I want to commemorate this night perhaps more…intentionally,” he explained as he hooked your costume onto a hanger. 

This night? More intentionally?

“Of course,” you turned towards your vanity mirror, wiping at your face with cold cream. The next day was December 14, after all. His birthday. Could that be what he was mentioning?  While you knew a share of the trauma he felt from that day—-losing his family in the fire— you also hoped to give Ciel some lingering sense of celebration with a waiting wine bottle you purchased for the makings of a relaxed night in. You’d been rehearsing a short self-choreographed piece for him, knowing his adoration for your dancing, and his lack of interest in making a spectacle out of his day.

There was a short silence that followed as you finished cleaning off your face. You were checking your reflection for any leftover face makeup when Ciel spoke again. You watched him approach you from the mirror, turning to face him properly as he stopped at your side. Still sitting in your vanity chair, you looked up at him, a curious smile on your face as you analyzed his serious expression.

“As you recall, I first met you here,” Ciel started, his hand toying with something square in his jacket pocket. “So, each time I’ve thought about how I wanted to approach this, I couldn’t imagine being somewhere else. This was the only right way.”

You snickered, thinking back to the best aspects of that night—an evening you never thought you’d come to look back at with fond nostalgia. That night, you would have told anyone who asked that you disliked Ciel Phantomhive. You thought he was classist and misogynistic, cold. Condescending. You never would have thought he would come to be the most intelligent, thoughtful, empathetic, and determined person you’d ever get to know. Loving not outright, but in his own way: re-considering his belief system, playing the piano, constructing a dance studio on his estate. For you. 

“You wore some red gown. I thought…you were breathtaking. I had to ask you to put on more clothes in order to let myself focus,” Ciel admitted, his face flushing to the tips of his ears from the admission. 

“To let yourself focus? I thought it was because–” you started to assert that he told you to cover up because he was a noble clinging to traditionalism, but your Earl interrupted you with a lovingly stern expression, fixating his gaze on you. He titled his head to suggest mild exasperation with your never-ending need to chime in.

You obeyed, silencing yourself with another dazzling grin at Ciel. As he…sank down on one knee in front of you and retrieved a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a ring.

“Veux-tu m'épouser?” Ciel asked. You blinked, swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat. Tears immediately formed in your eyes, causing you to blink rapidly to keep them from blurring your vision. 

Because that meant…

Will you marry me?

You felt as if someone knocked the wind out of you. A scarlet blush spread across your face with the intensity of a wildfire. Goosebumps littered your arms, despite your gown’s sleeves. He wanted to marry you. He truly wanted you as his Countess. He was legitimizing your claim to his heart with this ring. To all.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you, Y/n. You have broadened my worldview in so many ways. I never dreamed myself capable of accepting love from anyone, much less someone as breathtaking as you. You shine both on a stage and off, challenging me to better myself each day, inspiring me with your passion for ballet and that stunning intellect of yours. I would be incredibly fortunate to be enlightened by you each and every day, for as long as I may live. If you would do me the honor,” Ciel said. He always held such a noticeable degree of reverence for you, regarding you as some precious being.

“Absolutely, I will,” you beamed as Ciel held your hand, gently siding the engagement down your ring finger. The band was gold, its diamond cut into a square. Two smaller diamonds sat on either side of the largest diamond. Still on his knees, Ciel was still tall enough for you to kiss by leaning down to meet his face. 

Lingering close to your Earl’s face, your smile grew sly. You blinked guilelessly. “Though are you certain you do not wish to discuss how we will allow our courtship to slowly burn out over the next month to avoid public suspicion? Would that suffice? That would allow you to resume your real search for a—”

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence, pulling you back in for another intense kiss. 

“There will never be a need for that. I put an end to that search ages ago, for all intents and purposes,” he admonished you with no real weight to his words. 

Before you could verbalize your next quip, your new fiancé interrupted you once more. “Yes, I am certain. Y/n… you are all I could possibly want,” his hand was gentle as it cupped the side of your face. His thumb caressed your jawline, a touch that was barely there against your electrified skin. 

“I cannot wait to see what our life looks like, together, my Lord,” you kissed Ciel, taking his hands in yours. As you rose from your seat, you guided Ciel to stand properly on his feet, clinging to him the moment he righted himself.

“That’s Ciel, to you, mon trésor.”

You welcomed your incoming new role, the future Countess of Phantomhive, with your widest possible port de bras.

Acknowledgements: 

First thing’s first, I want to thank you. Thank you so much for reading and interacting in any capacity with me!! I appreciate every second you put into checking out my writing, and I hope it really touched you! This story is meant to show copious amounts of growth in a person and the importance of empathy and compassion. I’ve loved Ciel since middle school and I like to think this love has matured with me, lol! 

This is also my first mystery storyline!! I put so much thought into every detail, and I don’t think I could have gotten to this point without you all being here and so so so supportive and patient at every turn. 

Thank you especially to my amazing friends here on Tumblr, @mylostleftfootsock and @earls-wife, and my amazing best friend IRL @readfreak03. (She literally made a Tumblr account to read my updates, I'm crying). Thank you all so much for being so inspiring and supportive of me—especially for hearing me and my chaotic ideas out. Without your endless support for both my writing (and my personal life endeavors) and your detailed feedback and ideas, there wouldn’t have been this. 

I want to thank everyone who reaches out to me in comments, asks, dms, mentions, and reblogs, everyone on my tag list, and all of my amazing anons. 

I want to shout out @katherine101, @endlesslovesick, @suniika, @goby10, @lavendervogh, @eunisyia, @luckyladylottie, @soleil-lei, @lottiehasadvice, and my lovely Random & Sweet anons: I always, always look forward to reading what you have to say!! It’s so much fun to chat, and your feedback is so amazing. I really do appreciate each comment you leave for me! You’re all so kind, it’s endlessly motivating for me. I read every single comment, ask, and reblog multiple times. 

I genuinely had so much fun writing this fic. I’ve wanted to write a ballerina!reader x Ciel for so long—probably since I was in the middle of writing The Indignant Pawn. I was developing this story as I was writing! Ever since I stumbled on a History.com article about prostitution in vintage ballet, I was hooked. I knew I needed a fire-brand reader experiencing this in real time, and a Black Butler-level scandal to draw Ciel into the fold. Their polar-opposite personalities essentially wrote themselves. Their natural chemistry, the arguments, the sweeter moments just flowed. 

To make this story as accurate as I could, I read countless interviews with real prima ballerinas regarding their interpretations of their characters—their hardships, their advice, their day-to-day lives. I watched so many TikToks (special thanks to @/lifeof.lori!) and tutorial videos, too. I really came into this knowing nothing about ballet besides having an excited curiosity, and now I can confidently say that I understand it a whole lot better and I definitely have a newfound respect for real ballerinas. What they do is incredible. 

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. I can’t believe this is my second complete fic ever! I’m so excited to show you what I have in the works. When I finished The Indignant Pawn, I gave you a hint about this story, my next full body of work, because I was a little mean with the way I ended my first story. Literally it was the tallest of cliffs I could leave you hanging from. This time, I was nice, so I think I’ll leave you guessing :)

Stay Tuned,

Dannnn