#yandere sebastian michaelis x reader

[married-to-google-translater]

Hello! I heard your request box is open and i wanna know if you are okay with writing Female, Vampire Reader with Yandere Sebastian & Claude?

Maybe even how she can turn into a small bat and hang upside down, never able to see her reflection in the mirrors and maybe even how she clings onto them as a bat, just chilling on their shoulders with no care in the world.

Claude comes tomorrow :3

Yandere Sebastian Michaelis

Vampire and demon, well this would be an interesting combination.

You probably got a job at the Ciel mansion somehow.

You always worked at night because of your sun "allergy".

Oh and since this is fanfic everyone will believe it lol

It really didn't take long for Sebastian to realize what you were.

Even if you tried to pretend to be a person, you would have some traits that would give you away, like not eating and avoiding mirrors.

Sebastian would use this information to his advantage.

You might notice that he would come closer to you and spend more time with you.

At first you thought that one person wasn't a big problem

It would be horrible to realize that he wasn't human either.

Sebastian would be a little more possessive than with a human.

Unfortunately, his blood is not suitable for your nourishment.

This would drive Sebastian a little crazy because he wouldn't want others to get so close to you.

The people whose blood you have to drink will die one way or another.

However, not too much blood because Sebastian doesn't want you to get too strong.

Since you're a vampire, you would have powers that would make escaping easier.

He should be a lot more careful with you.

However, Stockholm syndrome is a thing.

You in your bat form is something Sebastian didn't know he needed.

However, if he had it, he wouldn't let you go anymore.

[yan-lorkai]

Sooo can I request Sebastian with a reader who likes biting and nibbling his neck then? :3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: You can 🥺🥺. You absolutely can and I'm very happy to write it. @laythestar

You love biting Sebastian. There's something very satisfying about it. Sebastian finds your habit of biting and nibbling on his neck amusing, a playful quirk that he indulges with a smirk, as he would with a cat nuzzling onto his sides. However, each time you bite him, Sebastian think of it as your way of claiming him as yours, and he starts craving these moments, relishing in the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin, the slight sting awakening something primal within him. He often leans closer to you, subtly offering his neck, cheek or chest as an invitation, eager to feel your teeth on his skin again.

Sebastian encourage you to bite him more often, but only when you're alone - he has a reputation to uphold. If anyone else were to witness these intimate gestures, his protective side would flare up, making it clear that such closeness is meant for only the two of you and that the person should be quiet about it.

He lets you explore his body with your lips and teeth, but every now and then, he’ll catch you off guard, his gloved hand gripping your chin as he forces you to meet his gaze. His eyes burning with a possessive intensity, silently daring you to bite him harder, to mark him in a way that only you can. And when you do, he can’t help but smirk, playing with your hair, knowing that these moments bind you closer to him, as if each bite is a silent vow that you belong to each other, no matter how dark and twisted that bond might be.

Sebastian's reaction is a mix of surprise and amusement, for he never know when you are about to bite him so he is always predicting your next moves. Still, he'll wrap his arms around you, pulling you even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerously soft whisper as he teases you about being a little more than just human - his little beastie.

He could bite and maws, and devours you whole and nothing would be left. Not a single bone or tissue, or blood vessel, nor body or soul. Everything consumed. Yet, he choose not to. For now, he said once, even through you know that he would not be capable of such thing. He is too careful, too attentive of you, as you are his beloved mate. And crows are quite possessives or so you discovered, since Sebastian is always around you.

[fancyfeathers]

I have a request for Kitty :D

Would it be possible to do Sebastian with a workaholic darling who somehow starts going into same busy work routine as Sebastian when it comes to chores at Phantomhive manor and then Sebastian quickly catches on, however since she is not a demon like him sooner or later she is bound to collapse from the lack of sleep and overwork.

Oh dear, this simply will not do. Sebastian immediately notices the insane amount of work she is taking on and humans simply do not have the same stamina that demons do. So Sebastian’s immediately solution is to finish half or more of her jobs before she wakes up in the morning, which was definitely not drug induced with the tea Sebastian gave her last night, no definitely not.

But this is a bandaid solution, not a permanent solution, so Sebastian immediately begins working on a permanent one. One day Sebastian calls the rest of the staff and hands them each a schedule that they will follow for the rest of the week, but still the majority of the chores fall onto Sebastian, this is just to lighten her workload permanently.

If she tries to protest this, oh well the young master has already approved of it, because he has also noticed her depleting state of wellbeing. If she tries to fight it further then she will have Sebastian breathing down her neck every second of every day as he accompanies her throughout the day, to the market, cleaning the dining room, polishing the silverware, and making the young master’s bed-

Oh no you are not supposed to do that, Sebastian will guide her back to her room after that, telling her yo rest since she has already finished her chores for the day and if she tries to leave, or rather when she tries to leave, the door is locked tight.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi there! I love your tumbler!

If it's not too much trouble can I request yandere Sebastian Michaelis x Cat Demon reader?

Reader is disguised as a maid to a young lady, whose her contractor and mistress. Maybe Ciel has business with Reader's mistress and that's how Sebastian meets them.

Cat Reader | Yandere Black Butler

You? Serving them? Please it’s more like the other way around and you only tend to stick around because you're intrigued by something the noble has. The same can be said for anyone you let waste any of your time:

Sebastian Michaelis

“Hello there. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“....To bad the same can’t be said for me.”

“You are as enticing as your power!”

He catches on pretty quickly 

Cooing at you through out the mission

Ears and tail or not he’s more than privy to stoking your attention

And sending his cutlery into the neck of anyone else lucky enough to succeed

That or he might continue to orchestrate missions that require you’re…owners to meet 

[ladyhelona]

Exquisite

A/N: I worked so hard on this.. I recieved so many asks for more insecure reader and Sebastian, and decieded to write one where reader sort of struggles with disordered eating and body image; something I know all too well. I came back and polished it up. I hope you all enjoy 🖤

CW: Smut (MDNI), moderate dub‑con, degradation + praise, possessive Sebastian, insecure/touch‑starved reader, overstimulation as punishment, breeding talk, reader struggles with disordered reading, Sebastian being possessive, established relationship, power imbalance, restraints (wrists bound in spicy part)

You don’t remember when it began — only the steps that led you here.

A ball, where you’d felt beautiful until another noblewoman’s gaze lingered a second too long, followed by a comment about your figure. A double-edged sword, polished to look like a compliment. It lodged itself in your mind and stayed there.

Your parents had never been the type to offer comfort. They noticed flaws, not virtues. They compared you to your slimmer cousins, reminding you that corsets, posture, and beauty were your duty, not a choice.

Then came the comparisons you made yourself — to lithe women like Mey-Rin, with her narrow waist and effortless grace. You caught Sebastian watching you in the mirror once as you adjusted your gown. His eyes were unreadable, but in your head, you decided you knew what he was thinking. Disapproval. Judgment. 

But the final fracture came when a visiting noblewoman looked you up and down, her smile tight, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

“Oh, you’re quite… healthy for a lady.”

Healthy. The word felt like a slap. No — she meant thick. Plush. Fat.

That night, you stood before the bathroom mirror, seeing nothing you liked. Thighs too thick. Stomach not flat enough. Face too round. You wished you could cut away the parts you hated with a pair of shears.

Something in you cracked — the years of comments, the comparisons, the expectations — and the breaking was quiet, but complete.

It ate you slowly, the way rot would at wood. Subtle damage that was only noticeable when it was too late. 

You asked for Mey-Rin to help you dress that day instead of Sebastian, his first clue that something was off. 

He had seen every inch of you, pulled every sound from your lips…but suddenly you didn’t want him dressing you? 

Odd. 

You had Mey-Rin tightening the corset until it almost hurt to breathe. 

Mey-Rin’s fingers fumbled at the laces, tugging them tighter with every pull. The air was already thin in your lungs, but you told her to keep going.

“That’s enough, miss—”

“Tighter.”

She hesitated, glancing toward the door where Sebastian’s shadow lingered just beyond the frame.

“I’ll manage,” you added quickly.

The butler stepped inside without a sound. “Shall I finish?” His tone was smooth, but it carried an edge — as though the offer was less a question and more a test.

You shook your head, eyes fixed on the mirror. “Mey-Rin has it.”

For the briefest moment, his gaze met yours in the glass. No smile. No teasing remark. Just a slow, measured look that told you he’d noticed. And filed it away. 

Then it started with meals. You started eating less, claiming you had “already eaten,” and weren’t that hungry even if it was your favorite meal. 

And you skipped dessert completely. 

“The sugar upsets my stomach,” you’d say quickly. 

Everyone else would nod, finding the excuse believable, except for Sebastian. The look in his eyes was measured, cautious. 

Liar. 

Eventually, you’d start skipping meals entirely. You only came to breakfast; you skipped lunch and dinner. 

“I’m not feeling well and wanted to rest.” 

“My stomach hurts and I was nauseous, eating didn’t sound like a good idea.”

“I had a snack earlier, I’m not hungry.” 

You’d grown to ignore the dull headaches and the gnawing hunger. 

Sebastian had once reached to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, and you flinched.

You blamed it on the light, a headache, another excuse. But eventually, you started subtly rejecting and avoiding his touches and affections.

And when he or anyone else offered you compliments — “You look lovely today,” “That color suits you,” “You’ve grown even more beautiful” — you’d laugh them off, shake your head, or twist the words into a joke at your own expense.

“Lovely? I think you mean ‘less of a disaster,’” you’d say with a forced smile.

Or, “That color hides all the wrong bits, doesn’t it?”

It was never said with enough weight to invite pity — just enough to steer the conversation away from you, away from your body.

But Sebastian noticed. He always noticed.

The smile you gave never reached your eyes. And beneath the easy dismissal, your words rang hollow.

The compliments didn’t stick. They slid right off, leaving no warmth behind.

This had been going on for weeks—overly tight corsets, skipping meals, dodging compliments, and Sebastian’s affections. 

But it wasn’t enough. You looked in the mirror and still didn’t like what you saw. 

And so you searched for new ways to quiet the dissatisfaction clawing at you. You read somewhere that walking after meals “helps one’s figure,” and it sounded harmless enough — easier to justify than refusing food outright.

Soon, you began taking long walks in the gardens after the meals you didn’t skip.

There was nothing wrong with walking amongst the roses. 

You used to bloom, just like them. Now, you wilt among them in the heat. 

But one day, it was the hottest summer London had seen in years. The sun beat down, and the air was humid. 

And yet you still went outside to walk. 

The air clung to your skin, hot and heavy. It was almost suffocating. You continued to walk, each step slower than the last. Your knees felt weak. 

Not enough exercise is what you had told yourself. You simply needed to be more active. 

The warm breeze swirled around you, offering no relief from the oppressive heat. The relentless sun loomed overhead, offering no respite from its scorching gaze.

The rose bushes swayed slightly, and your vision began to blur at the edges. 

Your breathing was shallow, as if the corset had bound your ribs. A hollow ringing filled your ears. 

You tried to steady yourself against the iron bench, but your arms were heavy and your fingers slipped. The world tilted—too fast. The sound of your heartbeat was suddenly too loud. 

And beneath it, quieter still, the steady cadence of footsteps approaching.

The roses swayed. The world tipped. And then there was only dark. 

“Foolish girl,” Sebastian muttered, catching you with effortless grace. He carried you bridal-style, eyes raking over your form as if he could see every flaw you imagined. You saw failure; he saw treasure.

He had been right to watch from the shadows. The air was sweltering, your stomach empty, your body parched — a reckless, dangerous combination. Something dark curled in his chest as he carried you back toward your room. Displeasure, sharp and cold, at what you had done to yourself.

Yours was the most radiant soul he had ever seen, and yet you had whittled it down to a flickering light. He had only seen people look this way when they were near death.

He held you as if you were fine china, delicate and fragile, his footsteps soundless. Lying you upon the bed, his gloved fingers found your wrist, pressing just firmly enough to feel your pulse. Steady… but weak.

This was no accident. He had watched each small refusal, each tightened lace, each excuse. And you — foolish girl — thought you could hide them. 

Sebastian had changed you out of that ridiculously tightened corset into something far more breathable. A soft cotton chemise, a cool silk robe on top that smelled faintly of sandalwood. Sebastian’s choice. 

You woke to the faint rustle of curtains, the low hum of the manor beyond your door.

Your head throbbed. The light filtering in through the window feels too bright.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust — and then you see him.

Sitting in the chair beside your bed, perfectly composed, gloved hands folded, gaze fixed on you like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved.

“Your little performance in the garden,” Sebastian said, voice calm but edged like a blade, “was not amusing.”

You blink at him, the words slow to catch in your hazy mind. “Performance…?”

One brow arched, ever so slightly. “Shall I list the ingredients? Empty stomach. Sweltering heat. A corset laced tighter than is sensible. Truly, you couldn’t have chosen a more effective method of rendering yourself unconscious.”

You sit up slowly, but the ache in your head forces you to lie back down. 

His gaze didn’t waver. “You seem to believe subtlety conceals your choices. It does not. I have seen every missed meal. Every excuse. Every time you tightened a lace past reason.” His tone remained even, but there was something in it—an edge you rarely heard.

“You are not as invisible as you think, my lady.”

That makes you pause. 

A part of you is tempted to say something, but words don’t seem to agree with you. 

You roll over to the other side, back to Sebastian. Maybe you’re avoiding the conversation he’s forcing you to have, maybe you just didn’t want him to see the tears threatening to spill. 

A demon whispers sweetly, weaving beautiful words that tug at the heart. Yet, deep down, you had slowly but surely convinced yourself that every syllable spilling from Sebastian’s lips was nothing but a cruel deception.

 The conflict within you swells, as you grapple with the haunting allure of his voice and the bitter truth you wish to believe. He could have anyone in the world, anyone…and he chose you? 

Yeah, right, you thought to yourself, since when does anyone choose me? 

You weren’t anyone’s first choice—probably not even their second. 

The silence stretches, weighted and deliberate. You can feel his gaze burning into your back — a predator assessing prey that’s foolish enough to bare its throat. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, too even.

“Do not turn from me.”

Not a request. Not even a command. A truth, spoken as if it were the law of the world itself.

“If you believe I will simply let this… diminish you… You are mistaken.”

You hear the faint click of the door. Sebastian’s not leaving—he’s locking it. Your heart skips a beat as you realize—he’s trapping you here with no way out except to do as he says. 

When you do finally manage to sit up without another dizzy spell, there’s a small table close to the bed. 

Steam curls from the plate—pale slices of poached chicken, a small bowl of steamed white rice. A cool glass of water has beads of condensation running down the sides.

“You will eat,” he says simply, as though stating the weather. “It would be wise to do so willingly. You will not like my methods of making you comply.”

Your mouth is dry — from thirst, from heat, from the way he says methods. He sits at the edge of the bed, knife and fork in hand, carving one perfect bite as though this were any other meal. 

You swallow. “I’m not hungry.”

A lie. 

Sebastian doesn’t sigh, doesn’t scold. He simply sits on the edge of the bed and carves a perfect bite, the fork hovering just in front of your lips.

“Open,” he instructs. “Or I shall see to it myself.”

The look in his eye is a glaring warning—he will make you eat, and it will not be pleasant. 

Hesitantly, you open your mouth and eat the chicken. 

Lightly seasoned with salt—it is good. 

“I can feed myself,” you mumbled under your breath after the first bite. 

“If that were true,” Sebastian said, carving another bite. “We would not be here.” 

The pause was cruel, forcing you to stew in the bitter truth of his words. 

You continue to eat, swallowing the bites. Not truly tasting the food anymore. Your hand twitches in your lap, and you want to push Sebastian away, but lack the strength. 

Your voice came out quieter than you intended. 

“Why?” 

It was the question you’ve been meaning to ask him since…forever. 

“Why me?” 

You had come up with answers in your head, none of them pleasant. 

Sebastian doesn’t stop cutting the next piece. “Why what?” 

“Why do you care?” 

Your gaze stays fixed on the blanket. 

“I’m not…I’m not special. I’m not worth the trouble. And you—“ you paused. Shame rising in the back of your throat like bile.  It was quiet for a split second, but the tension made you want to curl up into a ball and hide. 

“You’re just using me. Maybe you have some dark plan to devour my soul.  I’ve accepted it, I know I’m not anyone’s first choice. How could a demon like you possibly choose me when you could have anyone else?"

“You mistake me for a creature who settles for scraps,” Sebastian said softly, almost kindly. “I could have anyone… but they would not be you.”

His gloved fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face toward him with deceptive gentleness.

“Do you imagine I keep you here out of charity? No. You are here because I decided you would be. Because you belong to me. And I do not discard what is mine.”

The faintest smile touched his lips. “Even if you beg me to.”

His thumb ghosted across your jaw before he leaned back, reclaiming the fork with unhurried precision. “Now,” he said, his tone was gentle, but the threat was clear, “you will eat every last bite.”

The way he said it was almost indulgent — as though feeding you was not a courtesy, but a right he had every intention of exercising. And he would not hesitate to use force. 

So you complied, ate every bite. It was hard to be mad at Sebastian, not when the food was good and your body was screaming for it. Not when the headache finally went away and you felt the best you had in weeks. 

He handed you the water, which you graciously drank without a word. You hadn’t realized just how dry your throat was, not until the first sip of water.  

You were silent after that. 

You didn’t know what to say. A part of you deep down knew he was right. 

The other part still hated everything about you. 

Sebastian moved quietly to the bathroom, and you could hear the water running. 

The scent of bergamot, dark vanilla, and faint amber wafted into the bedroom, pleasant— but not your signature scent—instead, something Sebastian had chosen for you. 

You said nothing when he came out, gently taking your hand as he guided you in. 

Sebastian had gone through the extra effort of getting all of your favorite things, an effort to make a calm atmosphere. 

But he didn’t leave the bathroom. You stood there, staring at each other for a moment. 

“I can bathe myself,” it came out quieter than you had intended. You felt small under the burning gaze of those red eyes. 

“I don’t trust you to.” 

His voice was calm, and it irked you to no end how he could act like everything was fine. 

Your eyes narrowed at his words, “Sebastian, I am capable of-“ 

“I do not take kindly when what is mine is…damaged.” He spoke softly, laced with a warning. “Every missed meal, every lace pulling tighter.” 

He was closer now, almost right in front of you, 

“Is a slight against me.” His gloved hand held your chin firmly, forcing you to look at him. “What was sacred to me, you desecrated. What was treasure, you ruined.” 

You didn’t know whether to be terrified or flattered by his words, perhaps both. Sebastian’s words hit something deep. 

You sat on the bed, silent for a moment. And then the tears started to fall. 

You started to cry, curling up into yourself. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, and you couldn’t make them stop. 

Sebastian didn’t move, not at first. 

Slowly—carefully— as though you might break, he sat down on the bed and pulled you into his arms. He just… held you. 

“No matter how many times you break,” Sebastian murmured, a gloved hand running through your hair, something he knew soothed you, “I will always be here to pick up the pieces.” 

You stayed like that for a while, until your breathing steadied. Your hand clung to the material of his waistcoat, head resting on his shoulder. 

His fingers continued to run through your hair. Gentle yet methodical in their ministrations. 

You pulled back slightly, and Sebastian took the opportunity to wipe a stray tear with a gloved thumb. 

“Tears are unbefitting of you,” his voice was soft, unnaturally gentle. 

His hand stilled in your hair. “Now,” he murmured, as though discussing something inevitable, “you will bathe. I will not have you languish in this state a moment longer.”

You nodded, taking his hand as he carefully stood you up from his lap to guide you into the bathroom. 

The smell of jasmine and rose wafted in the air, welcoming you. Yet, you realized you were going to have to strip and felt the dread coiling in your chest. 

Sebastian had brought in fresh, plush towels. Everything was exactly how you liked it. 

And yet you were frozen in place. 

In a swift stride, he was in front of you. 

“Look at me,” he murmured, gloved hands cupping your face. His touch was so delicate, as if he might break you. 

“The belief that I think you anything less than exquisite is…completely unfounded,” Sebastian spoke, soft, like one would to a frightened animal. Afraid you were going to bolt. 

“You’ve mistaken the look of reverence for judgment.” He continued, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You wet your lips, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Perhaps I have not adequately shown you what exactly you are to me,” Sebastian murmured, voice low. He tilted your chin up, looking into your eyes. “I will have to remedy that later… For now, a soothing bath with jasmine and rose awaits you.” 

Your heart did a little backflip at his words.  You simply nodded, unsure of what exactly he intended. 

Sebastian was close enough that the scent of his cologne, something smoky and spicy, was unavoidable. Knowing fingers find the knot at your waist, the fabric loosens with a sound almost too soft to notice. 

As the robe slips open just a bit, you become acutely aware of the soft, velvety texture brushing against your skin. A subtle, unfamiliar scent wafts up, intriguing yet foreign—this robe is not yours.

It’s warmer, heavier, and finer than your usual things. 

The faintest trace of sandalwood clinging to it was unmistakable. 

Sebastian had put you in this. Chosen it. Almost as if he’d dressed you in it for the very purpose of removing it again. 

The smooth material slipped off your shoulders with ease, falling to the floor. It pooled around your legs. 

Sebastian gave you no time to protest your sudden nakedness..

“In,” he murmured, not a command as much as inevitability. 

You step into the bath carefully, almost as if you don’t trust it. 

The blooming scent of jasmine hits you, tinged with rose. The warm water engulfed you like an embrace. You sighed as you sank in, a sound you hadn’t meant to make, but Sebastian noticed all the same. 

Steam curled in the air, and the low sconces filled the room with a soft golden glow. A pleasant-smelling candle was burning, something else Sebastian had done purely for you. 

Sebastian peeled off his gloves carefully, almost ceremoniously, as he placed them on the counter. Crisp white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

You sank deeper into the tub, as if the water could hide you. 

But Sebastian had made it clear that you could hide from the world, but never from him. You could build your walls up to the heavens, but he’d always get back in. No matter how hard you try to push him away. 

He moved behind you with grace, kneeling behind the tub. His movements were careful, calculated. 

He knew you were undernourished from barely eating anything, so he avoided the typical harsh products. Instead, Sebastian had gotten a high-end scented hair soap from France. 

He’d always indulge you, even if you hadn’t realized it. Even when you told yourself you didn’t deserve it. 

“You shouldn’t waste your tears on worrying what other people think,” Sebastian’s voice came soft, quiet. His fingers carefully massaged the hair soap into your hair and scalp for cleanliness and circulation. “You should only care what I think.”

You hadn’t realized you were leaning into his touch as he massaged your scalp, deeply relaxed. But Sebastian noticed, and he continued longer than necessary, as if he might be able to massage away the ache. 

“And what do you think?” You asked, quiet and uncertain. Scared the answer would be something awful. 

“I think… You are exquisite. Body and soul.” Sebastian spoke with an unwavering confidence, his voice steady and compelling, as if the words he was sharing were undeniable truths etched in stone.

His thumbs found the tender notch at the base of your skull; heat bloomed behind your eyes, and you sighed loudly. 

Exquisite. Not words you would have used to describe yourself, but the combination of his words and the way his hands were massaging you, it was hard to argue with him. 

Sebastian rinsed your hair methodically—until the water ran clear. Once he was satisfied, he moved over to the marble counter. 

He had grabbed the natural sea sponge you typically used, except the soap was different. Italian, it had a darker scent—dark vanilla and bergamot with a faint hint of amber. Something he had chosen that was almost reminiscent of him. 

The bath tray rested on the edge of the tub. The water was still perfectly warm and clean; he had tested it with his wrist after adding more from the tap. 

You had thought that perhaps he’d let you bathe yourself, when you reached for the sponge, Sebastian stopped you. 

“Allow me to tend to you properly,” Sebastian said, though he wasn’t asking. He lathered the sponge carefully; the scent of bergamot and vanilla filled the air. 

Sebastian stood behind you, pressing the warm, soapy sponge to your shoulder. The sponge’s texture was almost like velvet. His movements were precise, sweeping slow circles over your shoulder and collarbone. 

You were tense at first, but eventually you had relaxed, leaning forward slightly to let him work between your shoulder blades and down your spine. Sebastian worked almost reverently, unhurried. 

He poured water from the rinsing jug across your skin, warmth blooming. When he reached your chest, his pressure softened, and his movements were careful. It felt intimate. 

When he reached your hips, you flinched. Barely, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but not him. 

“You act as though I will find something that disappoints me,” Sebastian murmured, red eyes briefly glancing up at you. “There is nothing about you that would disappoint me. Now sit still and allow me to tend to you.” 

You did, allowing him to wash the rest of you with utmost care. Sebastian was thorough, as he was with everything he did. He re-lathered the sponge often and rinsed your skin with care. 

He was a demon, an evil being. Sebastian could destroy you without so much as breaking a sweat, and yet he chose to kneel as if you were the altar he worshipped. Tending to you with care. It made something warm bubble up in your chest. 

He rinsed you with warm water, washing the soap away, leaving behind clean and soft skin. 

When you finally stepped out of the tub, your feet immediately met the warm bath mat. Sebastian grabbed the plush white towel, wrapping it around you quickly, leaving no time for you to get cold. The towel was warm and plush against your skin. 

Sebastian had you turn so he could wrap your hair in another towel, quietly muttering, “I won’t have you catching a chill on top of everything else you’ve done to yourself.” 

Your shoulders eased, and you stepped into the warm slippers he had placed before you. You hadn’t even noticed, but he had everything already done. 

Sebastian guided you to a high-backed chair near the hearth. The grate was empty, yet the towels he laid over your shoulders radiated gentle heat—warmed in some unseen corner of the manor, just for you.

Outside, the evening air drifted in, cool enough to make that warmth a luxury. Carefully removed the towel from your hair and dried it slightly—until it was damp. 

He grabbed the ornate boar bristle brush with the ivory handle—something you had received on your birthday. 

Sebastian brushed your hair with careful strokes. Each pass through your hair was reverent. He carefully untangled your strands and brushed them until they were soft and smooth. You unconsciously leaned into his touch, the brushing soothing. 

The towel had slipped slightly down, just past your nape. You could feel Sebastian’s warm breath ghost over your skin as he worked the perfumed hair oil in. 

When the towel slipped just past your shoulder, you felt Sebastian press a chaste kiss to your skin. 

“You mistake indulgence for weakness,” he murmured against your skin, kissing the hinge of your jaw, “it isn’t.” 

Sebastian was long done brushing your hair, bare knuckles traced your jaw—he hadn’t put his gloves back on. 

“You’ve denied me,” he continued, turning your head gently so you’d look at him, “pushed me away…all because you decided you were unworthy.” 

“If I thought you less,” Sebastian murmured, thumb swiping across your bottom lip, “I would not be here. I would not have made you mine.” 

Sebastian had easily turned you around, so you were now fully facing him, and suddenly, your hands reached to tug the towel tighter. You looked down at the floor. 

He raised a sleek black eyebrow at that, almost amused by how easily flustered you were. 

His hand trailed from your jaw to your throat, forcing your head up. His eyes swept over you in a way that felt like possession disguised as appraisal— slow, precise, leaving you with the impression he had just taken inventory of every breath, every tremor. 

Sebastian tilted your chin up, making you hold his gaze. For a moment, it felt like every inch of you was on fire from the sheer intensity. 

“I’ve been rather patient with you. Tell me why I should remain so.” 

You wanted to look away, but there was nowhere to go. He was quietly demanding an answer. 

“Because… you’ll see there’s nothing here worth wanting.” Your voice came out quiet, defeated almost. The tremble in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. 

Sebastian chuckled darkly, “Ah… so that is what you think. Then I will simply have to show you, again and again, how wrong you are—until you cannot think it at all.”

Before you could open your mouth to say anything, his lips were on you. You froze at first—fear, embarrassment, want, you couldn’t tell which. Perhaps all at once. 

When you kissed him back softly, he pulled away to mutter a quiet, “good girl,” against your mouth. Your knees nearly buckled. 

Expert hands reached to pry the towel from your hands, but you refused to let go. Sebastian murmured, “Yield, and I will be gentle. Resist…and I will still have you.” 

You stood, almost frozen. You could hear the threat in his words, and yet… insecurity seemed to win this fight. 

His demeanor changed—just for a second. Sebastian pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips—slow, cruel. “Very well, pet.” 

Sebastian picked you up with effortless grace, and you yelped at the unexpected move, “Ah, Sebastian! Put me down!”  He merely chuckled. 

He had one hand at your waist and the other at the back of your thigh, forcing you to hold onto him instead of the towel, which slipped from you with ease—his intention all along. His execution? Cruel. 

“You will learn that I mean what I say,” Sebastian spoke, voice low and edged. He had gathered both your wrists in one hand, and his fingers drew the black silk ribbon tight around your wrists. 

He lifted your bound hands above your head and fixed the ribbon to the headboard, leaving you stretched and helpless under him. 

He took a careful step back. Here you were, wrists bound tight on the bed, completely bare, all for him. It took every inch of restraint he had not to devour you right then and there. 

“Look at you,” Sebastian’s voice carried a wave of reverence, “…Perfection bound. I think I rather like you this way.” 

You tried to tug at the ribbons, but Sebastian was thorough—he always was. They were tied tightly, no escape. You were practically on full display for him; you hated it, but Sebastian loved it. 

“Sebastian,” you begged, looking up at the demon, “Please.” 

Instead, Sebastian leaned down, finger tilting your chin up. Red eyes, almost glowing in the candlelight. 

“Begging a demon for mercy?” He chuckled. “No, my sweet dove…you will beg for me to stop, and still find I will not.” 

“You have denied me—missed meals, tightened laces, pretty lies—no more,” Sebastian continued,  “You will not hide from me, nor yourself. I will look, I will take, and I will keep. Cry if you must; beg if you like. But you will stay exactly where I’ve put you.” 

His hands trailed lower, forcing your thighs apart and revealing yourself to him. It was difficult to hold himself back, not when you were practically dripping. 

“My my…” Sebastian tutted, finger trailing up your wet folds, “You’re soaked. One might think you like this side of me.” 

Tiny sparks of pleasure coursed through you as he gathered your slick before smearing it on your puffy clit. You wanted to grab something—anything, but your hands were tied. 

Sebastian continued to tease you, finger circling your dripping hole, but never giving you what you were clearly so wet for. The silken sheets beneath you slowly soaked with your essences. 

You whined, pulling against the restraints, the silk held your wrists in place. He had been doing this for what felt like forever. Thumb barely rubbing your clit, finger circling your entrance. 

“Oh, you poor thing, so greedy already?” Sebastian mocked, with a slight tilt of his head. 

“Sebastian, please-“

“No. You’ll have what you asked for when I am satisfied with your begging.” 

You had never looked more beautiful to the demon—bound and helpless, completely bare, lips parted in desperate pants, cheeks flushed, and eyes full of want. He’d keep you like this forever if he could. 

And who would stop him from doing so? 

You were clenching around nothing, so desperate—so needy. 

Sebastian never took his eyes off you, not once. “Look at you—aching for what you wouldn’t take when it was offered gently.” 

Sebastian leaned closer, until your noses brushed, “If you want it, you will ask for it like you mean it. Am I clear?” 

His finger was teasing your aching hole; it was torture. Slow drags of his finger circling, but never where you needed him. 

When you didn’t respond, Sebastian tapped your throbbing clit with two fingers. You yelped at the sensation. 

“I am a patient creature—until I am not. Do not test where the line breaks.”

“Please...” You begged, eyes wide. 

Sebastian tilts his head, smirking faintly. “Please…what?” 

You paused again, uncertain. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Suddenly, the words wouldn’t come, lodged in your throat. Your face felt hot. 

“I…need you.” You muttered under your breath, looking away. 

“Louder. Look at me.” 

You almost whimpered, the sound both deeply pleasing and amusing to the demon. He was ripping your pride apart, and he was enjoying it. 

“I need you.” You said, louder but still soft, looking into the red eyes of the beast that threatened to swallow you whole. 

Sebastian watched you the way a wolf would its cornered prey. Hungry, every intent to devour you. “Better. Say my name—then I’ll be generous.” 

You bit your tongue, looking up at him with wide eyes, and pleaded softly, “Please, Sebastian…I need you.” 

“Good girl,” he purred, finally sinking a finger deep into you with ease. A breathy moan came out of you, and your head rolled back into the pillows. 

Your back arched off the bed as he slipped a second finger into you, curling them upward against your silken walls, hitting a particularly good spot. 

Your hips lifted, desperate to match the speed of his fingers, only to get pushed down. Sebastian swiped his thumb over your clit, and you nearly jumped at the sensation. He knew just where to curl his fingers to make your back arch. 

The lewd sounds filled the room, you could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers and…

Sebastian’s fingers still inside of you. You blink up at him through your lashes, and the smirk on his face is wicked. 

He pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound, before bringing them to his lips for the sole purpose of watching you squirm at the sight. 

Sebastian then adjusts the silk ribbon tying your hands together, loosening it to allow him to roll you over to your stomach. 

He set your wrists above your head again and drew your hips up, one palm anchoring the small of your back until your spine arched obediently. 

“This is not kindness,” he murmured in your ear, voice velvet over iron. “This is consequence. For every meal you denied yourself, you’ll take until I decide you’ve had enough… and I assure you, I will not be merciful.”

 His hand pressed, holding you there. “Face down. Count them. You’ll stop when I am satisfied—not before.”

You lifted your head, about to say something, when you felt him rub the blunt tip of his cock up and down your slit. 

A breathy sound left you instead, knees firmly planted into the mattress. 

You don’t remember what you were going to say. 

A whimper came out of you when he cruelly slapped the tip of his thick cock against your clit. Only when Sebastian was satisfied with torturing you did he press his fat tip into your dripping hole. 

And he was not kind about it. 

It stung, the way his thick cock nearly split you open, forcing your silken walls apart. It took one deep thrust before he was fully inside of you. You choked out a moan, you swore he felt bigger than usual. 

Sebastian leaned close until his teeth barely grazed your ear, “I will not stop until that doubt is gone from your eyes.” 

Tears welled in your eyes. He was so deep inside of you. “You were made for me,” Sebastian breathed out as he filled you. “And I won’t have you deny me again.”

Sebastian had this right curve that just drags against your sweet spot with every single thrust. It didn’t take long for you to become a beautiful mess on his cock. 

His hands rested on your hips, holding you in place, forcing you to meet his harsh thrusts. Eventually, your hips started rolling on their own. Your back arched further, just to take him deeper. 

You swore you could feel his swollen tip in your stomach; he was inthere so deep. 

“Oh—please—,” you cried out, feeling another orgasm coming. You didn’t even know what you were begging for.  You had lost count a while ago, your legs were unstable, trembling from the pleasure. His fingers dug into your waist, keeping you still. 

“That’s it, you can take it. Take all of me.” Sebastian purred, pleased with how you were falling apart. 

His pace was brutal, and if that were not enough, his fingers found your needy clit, patient no longer—slow, precise circles that turned cruel the moment your voice broke.. 

The overstimulation had made you squirt a few times, and that only spurred Sebastian to drive into you harder. You had soaked him, his dick slick with you. 

You were squeezing him so tightly, crying and begging, and you didn’t even know what you were begging for. 

You weren’t thinking straight. The only thing on your mind was how good he felt. 

“Please—“ you pleaded, trying to catch your breath. You felt him twitch inside of you. You looked over your shoulder, just barely, and caught a glimpse of him.��

If he could, Sebastian would keep you like this forever. You had never looked more beautiful than you did like this. 

“Please, what little dove? Use your words.” Sebastian grunted at a particularly deep thrust. 

“Come…inside,” you choked out. Dignity long gone, here you were, bound, crying from the sheer intensity of pleasure and begging your demon to come inside of you. 

Sebastian had never heard sweeter words. 

“Greedy little thing,” Sebastian purred, “You’ll take every last bit I give you, won’t you?” 

You couldn’t speak. Your body burned with pleasure, and Sebastian sneaked a hand down to play with your clit. A choked moan came out of you, beyond sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d drawn from you; it didn’t take much for you to finish one last time. 

Sebastian’s grip on your hip tightened, holding you still as he spilled himself deep inside of you. You felt him flood your walls, and he stayed there, deep inside of you. 

When he finally pulled out, he loosened the silk ribbon that bound your wrists. Sebastian carefully rubbed the reddened skin with tender care. 

“You did beautifully,” he murmured. 

You, however, were entirely out of it. Slumped into the pillows, beyond exhausted. Everything hurt so good. 

You could barely lift a muscle when he brought a warm cloth to clean you with, and mumbled something incoherent when he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. 

Sebastian pulls the blanket over you, but you reach for his wrist. 

“Stay,” you say quietly, looking up at him, “please?” 

Sebastian chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “You say that as if I’d ever let you go.” 

[animeyanderelover]

I would also like to ask for obanai, Muzan, Light Yagami and Sebastian's reaction to a darling wearing revealing clothes? Thanks!

My connection to the internet is still not fixed. I’m literally writing this during university break because I have a stable connection here.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, manipulation, degradation, humiliation, suggestive themes, Nsfw in Muzan's part, abduction, death

Tags: @leveyani @lovley-valentine7 @chxxz @maggiequinn59 @nightmaresprophet

Darling wears revealing clothes

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛​It isn't the time with its set fashion that is going to hold Sebastian back. In fact the demon certainly enjoys the free spirit you showcase in a time where women dress modest and must never show too much skin. Unless they have a rather salacious reputation to them that is. What is going to motivate him to keep you from wearing such revealing clothes outside is his own possessiveness. Undeniably you are a feast for the eyes but as you are his mate you should ensure that such a sight is only for him to enjoy. Perhaps if time and fashion would be a different one he would be much more lenient to let you outside. As of now so much skin would gather too much attention from everyone. He can't have other men lay their greedy eyes on you now, can he? Only a minx would still dare to go against his words and you are certainly one. Your confidence is very attractive yet in this scenario it isn't too appreciated. You must want to tease and test him if you keep on insisting to wear your clothes even outside. If it is his limits you wish to overstep, then it should be only fair that Sebastian shows you the consequences. With less clothes you would look even more ravishing for him after all~

Yagami Light

✍️​Light has a vision. A vision of a perfect world with him as a God. A perfect world with you by his side. However, he has envisioned you in a very specific way. A way that doesn't include the far too revealing clothes that you often wear outside of university. Sure, the world is slowly changing and the fashion evolves with it yet Light finds this trend to be nothing but distasteful. You are his woman and for that you shouldn't dress in ways where just everyone can ogle you. For Light it is about retaining your innocence as well as hiding from other eyes what should only be shown to him. He cannot just forbid you to wear those clothes though. At least not as long as he needs to hide his identity from you. So instead Light decides to go with subtle manipulation to get inside your head. A lot of backhanded compliments are given where he comments that you are quite brave for wearing such things or mentions briefly that he would never let his sister wear those clothes. He constantly offers you his jacket, insisting that it is windy and that you could get sick. Sometimes he gety very passive-aggressive, asking if your outfits earn you a lot of attention from others and if that is your intention.

Iguro Obanai

🐍​Obanai is under the daily risk of having a heart attack, your clothes far too inviting for lustful eyes to linger on you. Even he has troubles looking at you for too long without getting very flustered but he does his best to never let his eyes linger on your thighs or your cleavage. Silently he has a lot of objections but he is unable to voice them as he doesn't want to earn your possible anger or sadden you. Instead he gifts you cloaks, scarfs and other items which you will hopefully use to cover yourself a bit more. Unable to speak up his own thoughts yet well aware how many lecherous people are out there, Obanai is left with the old strategy of stalking you. His two-coloured eyes are always watching for anyone looking at you lustfully or snickering behind your back. Save to say is that anyone who dares to give a wrong reaction becomes a temporary target. His jealousy and his overprotective instincts make for a very overbearing presence even though he reminds in the shadows. You shouldn't be surprised if certain people start avoiding you. Not after a visit from Obanai and threats he didn't even bother to hide. Either stay away or lose tongue and eyes so that they may never speak or look wrongly again.

Kibutsuji Muzan

🩸​Not even a whore would dress as skimpy. Are you really such a low creature, offering your body to just anyone? Muzan has lived through dynasties and historic events and is stuck in a very traditional mindset. If you were just any woman he would simply discard you. Yet you are his woman and for that by extension his possession. How dare you dress in ways where everyone can look at your body? It seems like you need to be reminded that your body belongs to him. You lack respect of his claim on you and Muzan will be swift and cruel to remind you of everything. It is unacceptable that you walk around the way you do. All your clothes will be torn away from you the moment he has you in his possession, replaced by clothes that he deems to be fit for someone who belongs to him. Any arguments or rebellion are going to be squashed as he has little tolerance. If you misbehave you are going to be treated accordingly. But if you truly wish to be treated like a slut, he can do that. Surely you'd appreciate sitting completely naked on his lap and cockwarming him whilst he holds a meeting with the Upper Moons. Next time he might even see it through to bring a few loved ones of yours.

[syerra-637]

Unseen

A/N: I had a dream, and I had to share it with the rest of the world. This is my very first time writing for Sebastian, so please be gentle with me. Trigger Warning: Death, soul pact, implied afterlife. It takes place well before the events of the manga.

A long, long time ago, in an age when Rome ruled the world, you had heard whispers of an ancient ritual, hidden deep within a dark forest. The witches spoke of it in hushed voices, like a forbidden secret murmured in the hollow of night. They said the raven would come, the demon would listen, and your wish would be granted… if you agreed to sell your soul. And you did — without flinching.

But you were not like the others. You made a demand. A rule no demon had ever heard before: once the pact was sealed, you would forget everything. You would forget the wish, the demon, the price. You wanted to live this life fully, without the weight of the exchange, without fear, without doubt. And the demon, intrigued, fascinated by your defiance, accepted.

When you stepped out of the clearing, you were lost, confused… but free. A man was waiting at the edge of the path. Tall, elegant, with an unreadable gaze. He had no name. So you gave him one. And he smiled softly, as if that name had always been his.

You built a life far from the world, far from cities and wars. A peaceful home, filled with books, firelight, and cats you adopted like wounded souls in need of shelter. Sebastian watched you live with a strange, almost painful intensity. And you loved him. Without knowing why. Without remembering who — or what — he truly was.

The years passed. You aged, and so did he — or at least, his mortal shell. He mimicked the passage of time, so as not to disturb you. He laughed softly when you complained about your joints, and he massaged your shoulders in silence each evening. You didn’t know that his hands had once reduced entire kingdoms to ash.

On the morning of your 80th birthday, he knelt before you, his eyes shining with a rare emotion. He spoke words in a language no one remembered. And suddenly, everything returned. The pact. The wish. The exchange. The demon. Your heart clenched — not from fear, but from shattering tenderness.

“Then it’s time for my final journey,” you whispered, eyes full of tears. He said nothing. He simply took your hand. Together, you walked down the hill to a silent river, black as ink. A small boat awaited you. The silence was heavy, solemn, almost sacred.

You cried. You had lived a beautiful, simple, gentle life. But it had been built on forgetfulness, on a lie crafted with care. And yet, you regretted nothing. You looked at him one last time, and he kissed you the way one kisses a dying star. Then your soul left your body — light, almost peaceful.

But Sebastian did not devour it. He couldn’t. He had waited centuries for you. He couldn’t end it like this. Your soul was the only thing he had ever held with tenderness. He kept it close, carefully, as one would keep a sacred relic. And he swore never to let it dissolve into eternity.

Since then, he searches. A body worthy of you. A time, a vessel, a new life where he might find you again. Where you might look at him once more, not knowing why your heart beats so wildly. He doesn’t want to force you to remember. He wants you to feel, again, despite the forgetting.

He is immortal. He will wait. Even if it takes a thousand more years. Because your soul… is the only one he never wanted to consume. The only one he ever wished to love.

[vxleriaris]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Part 1

You woke up from the pain.

Not the kind that faded with time or dulled with sleep, but the kind that sank its teeth into you, bone-deep and searing. The kind that clawed up your spine and made it impossible to breathe.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes sticky with dried tears. The room was dim, gray dawn filtering weakly through the cabin’s frost-bitten window. Shadows stretched long and silent across the wooden walls, and the fire… it had burned to embers. Cold crept in like a phantom, curling around your fragile frame.

You tried to move but the pain answered before your limbs did.

A sick, splitting agony surged through your body—raw and hot, radiating from your arms and legs. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat. A strangled sob escaped your lips before you could swallow it.

Your arms… bound in linen. Not tightly, but decisively. You could feel the hard pressure of wooden splints beneath layers of stiff cloth. Your ankles too—wrapped, elevated slightly by folded blankets. 

Everything was aching. Bruised. Fractured. Dismantled.

Bandages held you together, but just barely.

You laid there, completely still, the stale scent of blood and antiseptic hanging heavy in the air. The mattress felt damp beneath you, cold from your own sweat. Every beat of your heart seemed to rattle your broken bones.

He had broken you, he had kept his word.

And worst of all…

You deserved it.

Tears welled in your eyes again, spilling over the corners, sliding hot and helpless into your hair. The salt stung the cuts on your cheeks—small, angry reminders of the struggle you’d lost.

You cried, not just from the pain… but from everything.

From what you’d done.

From who had paid the price.

Your thoughts drifted to him.

The hunter.

You hadn’t even learned his name.

But his face... that rough, worn kindness in his eyes when he’d knelt beside you, wrapping you in his coat like a child...

That memory burned.

His voice had been gentle.

“Easy now… You’re safe.”

He had believed you, he had tried to protect you.

And now?

Now he was—

You sobbed, a raw, trembling sound that tore itself from your throat before you could muffle it. You turned your face into the pillow, trying to stifle the noise. Trying not to scream.

Because you could still see it.

His body, limp and bloodied.

The way Sebastian had lifted him like he weighed nothing, the way his throat had cracked under that gloved hand. The sound—oh God, the sound of his ribs being crushed open, the wet tearing of muscle and bone.

Your stomach turned, you wanted to vomit.

But your body wouldn’t let you move. And so you lay there, in your broken shell, sobbing like a child.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered between gasps, though no one was there to hear it. “I’m so sorry…

The pain too deep.

You tried not to think about how he’d looked at you—Sebastian—when he dropped that body at your feet like it was your doing.

Like you had twisted the hunter’s spine and you had painted the earth red.

But… hadn’t you?

Hadn’t you known what Sebastian was? Hadn’t you felt the warning in your bones every time he smiled? Hadn’t you run anyway, knowing he would follow?

And now… someone’s father was dead, someone’s husband. Someone who only wanted to help.

You imagined his wife's  screaming when she learned her husband's brutal death. 

You imagined the child’s silent confusion. You imagined the casket. The burial. The empty space at the dinner table that would never be filled again.

Because of you.

It's all because of you.

A dry, broken sob cracked your chest. You buried your face deeper into the bedding, as if you could hide from the guilt clawing at your insides.

“I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I just wanted to be free…”

The words meant nothing, they dissolved into air. No one could hear you. No one was coming.

You cried until your throat was raw, until your lungs burned from the effort. Until the sobs quieted into little hiccups and your breath came in shallow, uneven drags.

And then you just laid there.

Tears cooling on your skin, bandages stiffening as they dried, chest rising and falling in numb surrender.

You wished you could disappear. You wished your body had broken completely.

That your heart had stopped.

That you had never been found at all.

The ache wasn’t just in your limbs now. It had taken root deeper—in your soul, if anything of it was left.

A hollow thing. A cracked doll with nothing inside but pain. You shut your eyes tight, as if the darkness would offer silence.

But all you could hear was the hunter’s voice.

His last gasp.

And Sebastian’s, too. Whispering like a shadow through the back of your mind:

This is what defiance brings…

You didn’t notice when more tears came. You didn’t notice the light shift outside.

You just lay there—shattered, silent, sobbing into a pillow that smelled like blood and lilies.

And you wished, more than anything, that you’d never tried to run.

The door opened quietly.

Your breath halted involuntarily. You didn’t even dare turn your head; not that you could’ve easily managed it with your limbs bound and splinted, immobile and throbbing with a persistent, unbearable ache.

Tears still stained your cheeks, drying in streaks down to your jawline, warm and sticky reminders of your grief. You desperately wished you could hide the evidence, wipe them away, pretend even briefly you were stronger. But you couldn’t move. You could only lie helplessly, your back partially turned to the door, forced to endure whatever came next.

His footsteps echoed softly behind you, measured and deliberate. Every quiet tap of his heels on the wooden floorboards sent chills crawling up your spine, amplified by your heightened senses, sharpened by fear. Your heartbeat quickened, wild and uneven beneath your chest.

You bit your trembling lip, fresh tears welling in your eyes, silently praying that perhaps he would leave, perhaps he’d spare you his presence, his scrutiny, his impossible expectations.

There was the precise clinking of porcelain. The faint sound of a tray being carefully placed on the bedside table. Then silence, dreadful silence. You felt him watching you. Your vulnerability made your stomach churn, nausea rising bitterly to your throat.

Then, at last, he spoke. His voice was a caress of velvet over iron.

“My, my…” he said softly, the words dripping with practiced calmness, flavored with a hint of mocking amusement. “You’re quite emotional today, aren’t you, my dear?”

Your breath caught painfully in your chest. You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

He sighed gently, the sound tender and almost sympathetic, yet beneath it lay a subtle, sharp cruelty, unmistakably Sebastian. He moved closer, his presence looming behind you, towering effortlessly above your fragile, bandaged form.

“Whatever is the matter, my dear?” he continued, voice smooth and controlled, as if he truly couldn’t fathom why you might be in tears. “Did I bind your limbs too tightly?”

His fingertips grazed lightly across the exposed skin just above your wrist, tracing the careful edges of the linen wrappings. The contact made you shiver, not just from fear but from a physical pain that radiated deeply into your bones.

“You see,” he murmured, leaning closer until his breath brushed warmly over the side of your neck, “I made certain to apply the bandages exactly as needed. I stabilized the bones with wooden splints—pine, sturdy enough to hold your fragile limbs straight. Then linen wraps—tight enough to hold firm, yet loose enough for circulation. Elevation and pressure precisely balanced. Just as a skilled surgeon would perform.”

He spoke as though he were describing a work of fine craftsmanship, and perhaps to him, it was. Your limbs, your body—mere materials, objects carefully repaired after he himself had broken them.

“But,” he added softly, tone sharpening just enough to be noticed, “no matter how precisely I bind you, how carefully I monitor swelling and infection, all my efforts become meaningless if your body lacks the proper nourishment.”

You still didn’t move, didn’t speak. Your body trembled with repressed sobs, barely contained terror, and quiet, helpless anger at your own pathetic fragility.

Sebastian straightened slightly, though he didn’t move away. You felt him pick up something from the tray—a bowl, judging by the porcelain’s slight ring—and soon a delicious, warm aroma drifted gently into your senses.

“I brought you breakfast,” he stated simply, matter-of-factly. “Consommé of pheasant—clear, nourishing broth to replenish lost fluids and salts, precisely what you need. There’s a touch of wild herbs to soothe inflammation. Warm bread, freshly baked, soaked in clarified butter to bolster your strength. A tart of ripe pears for sweetness, to lift your spirits.”

He paused, allowing you a moment to process. Your empty stomach twisted at the descriptions, hunger gnawing at your insides. Yet your mind stubbornly rebelled. You didn’t deserve food, didn’t deserve nourishment, not after what your foolish escape had cost.

“Your body needs nutrients,” he explained patiently, calmly, as if lecturing a disobedient child. “Bones are living things. They require calcium, protein, vitamins. Without them, they won’t mend properly. They’ll set crooked, twisted, warped. You wouldn’t want that, would you? You wouldn’t wish to cripple yourself permanently simply out of stubborn pride?”

His voice was gentle, soothing, almost caring—but beneath his words lurked a cold, implicit threat. You knew all too well that Sebastian never asked rhetorical questions. Every word he spoke carried calculated intention.

“Now,” he continued softly, “I need you to eat. If you resist, I’ll have no choice but to feed you myself again. And we both remember how unpleasant that was the last time.”

You closed your eyes tightly, the memory flashing vividly. How his elegant hands had roughly forced your jaw open, the spoon pushed deep until you gagged, coughing, choking on broth that dripped messily onto your skin, your clothes, staining the pristine sheets. His quiet tsk of disappointment, his murmured reprimands—Such waste, my dear. Such unnecessary mess.

You shuddered openly, your tears flowing once more, silent and hot down your already damp cheeks.

He noticed immediately.

“You’re trembling,” Sebastian observed quietly. His tone remained gentle, yet it darkened subtly. “Do I truly frighten you so?”

You couldn’t answer. Your throat was raw, constricted with grief and fear. Your silence was confirmation enough.

He sighed once more, a gentle exhale that tickled your skin.

“Very well,” he murmured, a patient threat, “we’ll do this slowly, then.”

He settled himself beside you on the bed, carefully positioning himself so that you remained trapped, immobilized not just by broken bones but by his very presence. His gloved hand took the silver spoon, scooped the rich broth, and brought it to your lips.

“Open,” he commanded softly.

You hesitated, your lips quivering, eyes clenched shut.

Sebastian’s voice grew colder, quieter, infinitely more dangerous.

“Do not test my patience. You will eat—by your choice or mine.”

Tears slipped from beneath your eyelids, betraying your helplessness. Your mouth opened weakly, resignedly. The broth slipped warmly past your lips, comforting yet hateful, delicious yet repugnant.

“See?” he whispered approvingly, coaxingly. “Good girl.”

The phrase felt like acid, burning humiliation into your mind.

Each spoonful came slowly, methodically. He paused after each swallow, carefully wiping your mouth, inspecting you closely. His care was meticulous. The atmosphere thickened with tension, fear, dread of inevitable cruelty.

After a long silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your swallowing, he spoke again, his voice dropping into a velvet threat:

“If you ever again attempt to escape… let me assure you, what I’ve done now—merely breaking your limbs—will seem merciful in comparison.”

Your breath hitched painfully in your chest. He placed the spoon back into the bowl, setting it down gently, then leaned closer, voice low, hushed, precise:

"Next time, I will tear your limbs from your body entirely.”

He touched your arm gently, almost tenderly, tracing invisible patterns over your bandaged limb.

“I’ll carefully slice the skin and peel it back—slowly, layer by layer, exposing muscle beneath. I’ll sever each tendon neatly, individually, taking care to avoid major arteries. You’ll remain conscious, awake to every sensation.”

His breath brushed softly against your ear.

“Next, the joints. I’ll carefully, deliberately separate each one, breaking cartilage away from bone, listening for that satisfying pop as the joint dislocates. Only after I’ve disconnected every muscle, every ligament, will I tear the limb completely free. Both your arms and legs from their sockets”

You whimpered, your eyes widened in fear.

He cupped your cheek, thumb stroking away a tear you didn’t even know had fallen.

“Once it’s done… once your lovely arms or legs are gone… you’ll be so much easier to manage. So light. So docile. Just a soft, helpless little creature for me to cradle. Like a kitten with no claws.”

His smile widened cruelly.

“And you’d still be beautiful, you know. Even limbless. So small, so delicate. Mine.”

He tilted his head, as if considering the idea sincerely.

“In fact… you’d be quite perfect. No more running. No more bruising your sweet skin on the forest floor. Just you, warm and silent in my arms, where you belong.”

Your body trembled violently. He felt it and laughed softly.

“But… I won’t do that,” he murmured. “Not if you behave. Not if you remain my good girl.”

He leaned in, breath brushing your lips, his voice a velvet purr.

“I love your little hands. Your trembling legs. The way they curl when I touch you. I would hate to ruin them…”

His hand slid down your thigh, lingering at the edge of the splint, gentle but heavy.

“…But I will. If you make me. So… let’s not test me again, hm?”

Sebastian pulled back slightly, grabbed the bow again, calmly resuming feeding as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just meticulously detailed your mutilation.

He offered another spoonful, his expression serene, his voice gently admonishing:

“Now, please, my dear. Let’s not let your food get cold.”

The porcelain spoon gently scraped the bottom of the bowl, collecting the last few precious droplets of broth. Sebastian lifted it gracefully to your lips once more, patient, composed, and completely unhurried. Your trembling mouth obediently accepted it, though your eyes remained fixed downward, gaze filled with uncertainty and lingering fear.

"That's my good girl," Sebastian praised softly, voice smooth as velvet and just as dark, carefully setting the spoon down upon the tray beside the empty bowl. "I knew you could be obedient if you truly wished to."

You shivered slightly at the soft edge of his voice, unsure whether it brought comfort or only deeper dread. Yet you remained still, trapped by your injuries, completely at his mercy.

Gently, Sebastian lifted a silk napkin, meticulously folding one corner around his gloved finger. He leaned forward, the bed dipping slightly beneath his precise movements. You instinctively flinched, but his touch was gentle as he softly wiped away the small droplets of broth that clung to your lips. Each swipe was slow, measured, undeniably tender—a stark contrast to the violence he’d inflicted mere days before.

“There now,” he murmured, the silk brushing gently over your sensitive skin. “Clean and perfect, just as you should be.”

He pulled back slightly, red eyes focused intently on your flushed, tear-streaked face. A faint smile curved his lip

“Now, I think it’s time we addressed your hygiene, my dear,” Sebastian said, rising smoothly to his feet. “Even confined to this bed, a lady must remain presentable. We wouldn’t want your skin to become irritated or infected.”

Your heart quickened with immediate anxiety. The thought of being even more vulnerable, of his hands on your delicate bare skin, filled you with panic and embarrassment. Your lips parted to object, but he silenced your hesitation with a gentle shake of his head.

“Relax,” he soothed softly, voice reassuring yet undeniably commanding. “You are in no position to argue. You must trust that I will be nothing but gentle.”

You bit your lip nervously, nodding weakly in submission. Sebastian smiled approvingly and moved gracefully to a small basin placed on a side table. You watched helplessly as he dipped a pristine cloth into warm, steaming water, wringing it out carefully. He turned back towards you, eyes calm, movements precise as he slowly approached once more.

Gently, he sat beside you, placing the basin carefully at his side. With meticulous care, he reached forward and unbuttoned the thin, sweat-dampened nightgown that clung uncomfortably to your body. You immediately flushed with humiliation, painfully aware of your exposed vulnerability.

Your injured limbs were bound and immobilized; there was no chance of shielding yourself, no possibility of modesty. You turned your face away, heat burning across your cheeks. Sebastian paused, noticing your shameful discomfort.

“My dear,” he said quietly, his tone tender yet firm. “There’s no need for such embarrassment. You have nothing I have not already seen. Your fragility is precisely what makes you beautiful.”

Your breath caught sharply in your throat. His words—softly delivered, strangely sincere. You didn’t want his praise, didn’t want his twisted affection.

Carefully, Sebastian drew the damp, warm cloth across your collarbone, wiping away the dried remnants of sweat and tears. His movements were painstakingly gentle, almost reverent, as though cleansing a priceless artifact. The soothing warmth seeped into your tired muscles, involuntarily drawing a soft sigh from your lips.

“You see?” Sebastian whispered, eyes never leaving your face as he slowly, methodically cleaned your neck and shoulders. “This isn’t so unpleasant, is it?”

You shook your head weakly, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, relief. His tenderness felt simultaneously terrifying and comforting, tearing at your already battered defenses.

Sebastian continued in silence, taking his time as he moved to cleanse your chest, carefully wiping around the bandages, ensuring not to disturb the delicate alignment of your broken limbs. He was gentle, thorough, and oddly clinical in his care, yet each motion seemed infused with an intense intimacy you could not deny.

After a long moment, Sebastian spoke again, his voice unusually quiet, as though confessing something deeply personal.

“Do you know, my dear, how incredibly rare it is for one such as myself to feel anything resembling affection? Especially towards a human. A human as fragile and delicate as you.”

You looked up at him, startled by his sudden confession. His crimson eyes locked with yours, filled with an intensity so deep it left you breathless.

“It should be impossible,” he continued softly, almost to himself, gently sliding the warm cloth down your side, his touch never faltering in its care. “Demons are creatures of darkness, beings designed purely for destruction, manipulation, and cruelty. Love, true, genuine affection... is foreign to our very nature.”

His eyes softened, tracing your features with visible fascination. The quiet confession sent a fresh wave of heat through your chest.

“And yet,” Sebastian murmured quietly, leaning closer, his voice like velvet against your skin, “I find myself inexplicably drawn to you. A human so painfully fragile, so impossibly delicate, it defies logic and reason. To love you is to challenge the very essence of my being. It is miraculous... a profound aberration of nature.”

Your heart raced uncontrollably, your face burning even hotter as Sebastian’s candid, almost reverent confession lingered between you. He continued his gentle cleansing, moving down your trembling stomach, around your hips, maintaining a quiet dignity even as you trembled beneath him in vulnerable embarrassment.

“The very first moment I saw you… I thought you were nothing more than a fragile curiosity. A delicate human, trembling on the edge of this cruel world. I had seen thousands like you—small, afraid, breakable. Yet you are different than the other humans I'd ever seen”

Sebastian paused momentarily, eyes thoughtful, expression strangely gentle.

“Your innocence was intoxicating. The softness in your voice... I could not stop watching you. You haunted me in ways no human ever had.”

He gazed intently into your eyes, sincerity unmistakable.

You watched him, speechless, emotions battling fiercely within your chest. He reached to gently stroke your cheek, eyes warm and compelling.

“This is why I took you, my dear. I watched you from the shadows; day after day, night after night. At first, I tried to keep my distance, convincing myself that you were simply another fleeting curiosity in a sea of mortal souls. But the longer I lingered, the more I realized… you had infected me with something I could not name. Fascination. Desire. Hunger but something softer, too. Almost like a human.”

He leaned closer still, his lips brushing softly over your forehead, an almost reverent kiss.

“It is a miracle,” he repeated softly against your skin, “that a demon could love something so breakable without utterly destroying it. And yet here I am, fighting my very nature for the sake of your continued existence.”

You lay frozen beneath him, heart pounding furiously, overwhelmed by his twisted yet profound confession.

Sebastian straightened slightly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he resumed cleansing you, his voice returning to its usual composed elegance.

He met your eyes once more, gaze intense and possessive, yet oddly reassuring.

“And I intend to cherish and protect that miracle for as long as I exist. Even if it means breaking you again, piece by piece, to keep you safely by my side. I think this called love.”

You shivered beneath him, uncertain whether his words terrified or comforted you, but undeniably drawn to the dangerous sincerity within his crimson gaze.

With quiet reverence, Sebastian finished cleansing your body, and gently began buttoning a fresh, delicate nightgown around your trembling frame.

“Now,” he whispered softly, a slight smile returning to his lips, “let’s see about ensuring you remain comfortable, shall we, my dear?”

[miharuki]

Please may I have Black butler platonic headcanons of being the older sister to the Phantomhive twins and also headcanons that she is married to Edward Midford (yes it was the norm back then in the Victorian times and she is the same age as him) and she is a skillful swordswoman and Phantomhive as she is Vincent's kid..she worked as the Queen's Rose for her Majesty in the more darker aspects of the underworld and she did have far more blood on her hands..she never told Edward her missions as it was way too dangerous and she does genuinely apologise but she said "Sorry Edward, it's not for you to get involved". Genuinely the most nicest Noble in London but she was certainly also the most deadly woman in Britain..as feared by the underworld.

Edward's relationship with his future wife since childhood

Elizabeth's relationship with her future sister-in-law

Our! Ciel's relationship with his elder sister from childhood to now

Real! Ciel's relationship with his sister before his death and when he supposedly came back from the dead

Francis Midford's relationship with her

Alexis Midford's relationship with her

Rachel Phantomhive's relationship with her before her death

Vincent Phantomhive's relationship with her before his death

Madam Red's relationship with her niece

Black butler plantonic Headcanon

Reader Phantomhive x Edward Midford

Miharuki note:Well, first of all, sorry for the delay, my ask has been kind of buggy lately, anyway I’ll do what I can:

★You are the firstborn of the Phantomhive family, and even though back then it was seen as wrong for a lady to lead anything or even fight with swords, your parents didn’t care one bit, since you showed every sign of being a good leader. Vincent, your father, loved his little girl from the very beginning — you looked like his wife, your mother. But knowing the dangers of the world, your parents decided it was best for you to train with swords as a form of protection, and who better to teach you than the Phantomhive’s old friends: the Midford family. You trained well with them, met all the members, became friends — especially with one in particular, Edward Midford.

★When you became an older sister, you loved to sing to the twins at night when your parents were busy. You would run through the halls, play in the gardens — the twins adored their big sister. Though they had their opinions about that Midford boy who kept showing up at your house, constantly stealing the attention of the eldest Phantomhive, leaving him with the youngest Midford: Elizabeth.

★Elizabeth constantly watched you train and duel with her family. She was always too shy to admit she admired you — your graceful footwork and the way your blade moved were so elegant, like a dance. When she was chosen as the future bride of one of the twins, Ciel, she thought you'd be mad… but you were completely chill about it.

★After the accident, you spent some time in the hospital with Madame Red as your only guardian, just as you were becoming a fully grown woman. Madame always treated you like a daughter — even though she wished she had one, she was happy to have you as a niece. She helped you continue your life, your studies, your training. You were the closest thing to a daughter she had. You shared tea and afternoon talks. She saw you rebuild that burned-down house while you still blamed yourself for everything. She understood — and that’s why you were so close.

★You accepted to work for the Queen, maybe as a way to make up for the pain of losing everything — your family and your siblings. And imagine your surprise when one of your brothers shows up with a butler by his side. Back then you didn’t care much — you hugged the new Ciel and apologized so many times.

★As soon as Ciel recovered, you passed the family title to him — logically, since he was the only male heir. While he was the face of the family, you helped behind the scenes — paperwork, business, and still passing through the underworld, informing the Queen or even eliminating, if she asked. There was so much blood on your hands that you swore you'd protect your brother — even if you had to kill your aunt. When she revealed herself as the killer and tried to assassinate Ciel, that was the first time she didn’t see pity in your eyes — only disappointment. She never imagined that the infamous Rose of the Underworld was her niece. But at least she died by a family member’s hand.

★Edward had been planning to propose before the accident happened. He had asked your parents and his for permission — who, believe it or not, adored you and knew their son had a crush on you since he was a kid. It wasn’t hard to tell — whenever you touched his hand, he turned bright red. But after the accident, he could never really go through with it — not until he finally gathered the courage. Ciel knew about the man, but was surprised when Edward showed up to ask for Ciel’s permission. He knew you loved your little brother with all your heart and wanted to be sure he was okay with the proposal. Ciel wasn’t okay — of course he was a bit jealous — but he accepted it, maybe because he thought it would make you happy. And he knew you liked the guy.

★(I’m putting another idea here: you would’ve been proposed to before the accident and obviously had an amazing wedding — like, man, both families would’ve helped; it would’ve been the family moment. Then after the wedding, you decided to stay with your brother after the accident because you were worried about him. Just an idea — anyway, moving on.)

★Edward wanted to propose, but it was the worst timing — on that ship. It was supposed to be a peaceful trip and at the end he’d ask for your hand. But when he ran to find you, only to see you holding blades in your hands, covered in blood… you had always feared the man would find out about your little mission — your work in the underworld. But it was in that moment that you realized Edward didn’t care. He only cared whether you were okay. And to him, you were still you — the woman he had loved since they were children. So right there, in that place — nothing romantic, water at your feet, blood on your hands, corpses lying around — he got down on one knee and proposed. And of course, you said yes.

★The ceremony was well… anything but simple. The Midfords had been waiting for this moment for ages — they were just waiting for their son to grow a spine. Anyway, the wedding was beautiful, even made the headlines. Now I’ll let you imagine who walked you down the aisle — but I’ll just say you went on your honeymoon, it was lovely… until the wedding night. He was so sweet, so shy… but you two made the most of it.

[fanfictionsworld]

A rabbit and a wolf

sebastian x fem reader/obssesive behavior/stalking/confident but easily embarrassed reader/you could say self-indolgent

A loud gasp escape your lips,the sound of bed hitting the wall was matching the sound of your lips.Sebastian without mercy pound your pussy like there was no tomorrow and how could he not you were the sweetest most annoying thing in the world,but you were his.Your back being blown out you could not take it any more,it was good so fucking good.You know better then to anger him but my god was the anger in the sex so good.You could barley think of anything.Eyes rolled to the back of your head fifth orgasam coming and you could not even speak.Yelling his name and your pussy being filled to the brim was amazing.In a second after coming from yet another high he was back in you again,going hard destroying your insides like it was nothing to him,and you were loveing it.God yes you were strong and independent and he knew that ,but god did he wanted to break it and maybe some part of you wanted that.Pulling you out of your thoughts was a loud slap on your ass which caused you to moan even more.,,What is it my slut you like that,i can feel your pussy clench around my cock whore."Oh god did you love that nickname.Yes you were a slut but for him,for his cock and no one else and it felt good.,,This fucking pussy is mine,all mine,your body your soul is mine do hear my rabbit,if you so much as look or speak in any mans direction i will kill him and you,i will fuck you until your fucking pussy remembers how her master is,do you hear me little rabbite,well do you", pulling your hair your fucked face closer to his you could barely say anything but mumbling yes was enough for him.His pace become faster and harder he was hitting all the spots his cock was piercing threw you.You could not think your brain was just about his big fat cock destroying you and you enjoying it.As you grew close to the high you screamed so hard you were sure you woke up the whole building.Finishing you lay there on the bed breathless,unabel to speak Sebastian took you to the bathroom washed you dressed you.,,Darling how are you feeling was i to hard,did i hurt you"Sebastian asked looking form some bruise he might have left knowing he was to lost in the moment.,,No i am fine and you were perfect as alwasy darling,but maybe next time do go a bit harder i can take it." you said mischief in your eyes ,,Oh really well you little minx i will be sure to remember that now gets some rest my love."

[married-to-google-translater]

Could I make a kuroshitsuji request? Yandere Sebastian Michaelis with a witch S/O. She's 160 years old (looks 25) and can turn into a tuxedo cat. She's a maid at the Phantomhive manor who wandered into the garden as a little tuxedo cat.

Yandere Sebastian Michaelis

At first, Sebastian didn't think anything special about you.

You were a servant among others.

Even if he realizes that there is something mysterious about you.

But Sebastian wouldn't care enough to find out.

However, his opinion would change one day.

Sebastian was going to the garden to feed the cats.

This is something he does often.

And in one go he happened to see your transformation from a cat to a human.

This would really spark his interest in you.

Sebastian would like to get to know you better.

He would be interested in what your motives are and when and how you got your gift.

And at the same time, Sebastian loves more.

Especially your cat form.

Being a witch would worry Sebastian a little.

He wouldn't want you to get caught.

Demons are possessive and Sebastian is not going to lose you.

This would lead to overprotection.

Whether you wanted it or not.

He is only doing it to protect you.

You really wouldn't appreciate it XD.

You spend less time in your cat form to get revenge.

And it would really hit

[yan-lorkai]

Hello Lorkai, I would like to request B, D, J and L for Sebastian from the yandere alphabet with a fem reader

Please and thank you <33

(Hope you're doing well!!)

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

There's not a single limit he isn't crossing for his darling. He plans, and he maims, he destroys, and he left no proof, no bone or skin behind of those he kill, he'll only stops when his arms can safely wrapped around your waist, when your head is resting on his chest as he plays with your hair

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

If you don't care about yourself after he takes you home, he will. So he will pry open your mouth and force food inside, he'll bathe you and wrap you in comfortable clothes. He will love you, even if you can't find in yourself to do it. And if you break, well, that's too bad. He can love you for both of you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Sebastian prides himself in not having these types of human feelings - or so he told you with a cunning smile. Perhaps he lied, because he gets extremely pouty and bitter if you're paying attention to another person, so he tugs you, kiss your neck, tight his grip on your hips, he makes the entire situation discomfortable for everyone involved so the other part excuses themselves and he can have you for himself. He has no shame.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

That depends a lot if he is still bound to Ciel or if he had already completed his little lord's revenge. If he is bound by their pact, Sebastian is going to be sneaky about his feelings. He will find ways to express himself without really having to say out loud when in the presence of his master. It's even better if you are a maid that works for Ciel. Yet, if he isn't bound by duty, then he is taking his time to let you know his feelings, he flirts and bomblove you, he cooks and takes you on little dates around the place you live

[fancyfeathers]

I saw the post Kitty made about requests 😭

So if it is possible, I would like to request Sebastian with a very hyperactive and very socially outgoing darling, who usually is rather very quiet at work in the manor but then outside of work she shows this side of her while also not really being aware of it (like in a way if someone would point it out, she would be like ‘huh? Really? I thought I’m usually like this-‘ 😭) . If it’s also alright maybe it can be a continuation to the same request about the workaholic darling(?), so like it would be her showing this side more often as she is not full of workload now.

(I am so sorry this took me so long to get to 😭)

I don’t know what came over me with this one but I love the idea of her loving to sew and maybe dreaming of being a designer or something idk

It would take some time for Sebastian’s darling to settle into the idea of having less and limited work to do. The free hours of the day would stack up and to waist one’s life away when there is so much more to do outside of what she has been busying herself with.

The other staff had rarely seen her in anything outside of her uniform so when they spot her in a beautiful hand sewn dress, hat, and gloves with a basket in hand as she is about to go to the farmers market is a huge shock. Then when she tells them she made it when Mey-Rin asks where she got it was an even bigger shock because no one in the house has been able to separate her from her work. Sebastian will just smile as watch from a distance as Mey-Rin and Finny fawn over her handy work.

Whenever Sebastian goes out to buy supplies he takes her with him and lets her run off to the fabric store or seamstress to buy supplies for her craft, but usually he ends up having to go retrieve her or wait for her in the shop since she could probably spend hours in there. Then also on occasion he will take her to town and just conveniently forget his list but it would be a shame if she came all this way for nothing, so he will take her to just shop for her wants and carry anything she wants and even give advice on what would look best on her.

Of course if she were to seriously pursue her dreams he would have to reel her back into the reality he wishes for, assigning her a bit more work to keep her busy or taking more serious repercussions like destroying some of her work.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could i request yandere sebastian, claude, and ash with floyd from twst reader? They look the same in human and merform and has the same personality.

I'll do two 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Floyd Leech Reader | Yandere Black Butler

From another world and an eel-mer person, you’re never one for abiding by the rules. Fun is what you’re after and what you find fun includes man-handling the ones you’re pointed to. Which happens to work for you in the slums of London where plenty of people need squeezing. Luckily you’re twin, the talker, has the pills that allow you both to keep your human appearances….for now. The best thing to do is stay where the fun is considering they also happen to have the mysterious ingredients needed to keep you and your brother walking: 

Sebastian Michaelis

“Ayyy! So you’re the one they want me to squeeze? This is gonna be fun!”

While ultimately you’re no match for the demon butler

But you certainly give him a run for his money

Magic-powered eels aren’t exactly his typical foe

Nor do his opponents stop mid-fight to whine about being bored

“Ugh, I wanna go for a swim. This is boring!”

“I can make things more interesting for you if you like.”

“Eh?! Doubt it Sharky. You’re not fun to play with.”

Once he realizes that you’re becoming the only thing on his mind 

He can only wish to appease your ever-changing moods

Hoping that you’ll give him the time of day

Which unfortunately means stopping whatever work he’s doing to ‘play’ with you

When you nonchalantly let it slip or reveal your eel-mer form he’s already thinking of ways to lock you up in a tank

The only problem is your undetermined mood

And your twin….that’s oddly reminiscent of himself

Who seemingly has it out for him with that stupid smile always on his face

He hopes that’s just their typical expression and not a cocky grin

Otherwise, there are plenty of circuses that’ll want a mermaid or even better a mermaid corpse

“I hope we can get along in the near future. After all, it’d be for (Y/n)’s best interest.”

Ash Landers

“Stop! Chasing me!”

“Come on! Come on! Don’t be scared! I just want to squeeze ya!”

“You broke that man’s spine!”

Love and crippling fear is a thin line for Ash

With his warped view of humans, he sees you as a…work in progress

You’re not human, 

you intentionally bite others without knowing where they’ve been

And delight in hurting others 

Granted if he points you in the right direction you can be somewhat helpful

“Nah I don’t wanna squeeze ‘em anymore.”

“But you said you would!”

To him, you’re just so frustrating 

But he can do it

You're rehabilitation is going to make all the pain worth it

He’s going to have an even bigger problem when your twin gets in his way

“Blleeeegh!!!”

“They said they're not all that interested in helping you at the moment.”

“What!? But they just told me to-”

“They. Are. Not. Interested.” 

Oh he’s going to love cleansing this world of such a nosy twin

[ladyhelona]

Ways Sebastian Michaelis shows he's obsessed with you (without saying it)

A/N: I wanted to write something short while at work, and I had this idea. I'm trying to work on another fic, but I'm experiencing writer's block because I have so many different ideas.

He memorizes your routines. Without ever asking, he knows your favorite tea, when you prefer silence, how warm your bath should be. 

He doesn’t get jealous—he gets possessive. If someone so much as touches you, they’re met with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. No one is worthy of you. That person doesn’t last long.

He’s always behind you. Not in a romantic way. In a predator-watching-his-prize way. Silent. Constant. Comforting only because it’s familiar.

He handles your enemies personally. You never find out how, but people who upset you mysteriously disappear, fall ill, or are financially ruined.

He never calls you by name. He calls you mine, or nothing at all. There’s something more sacred in the silence before he says it.

He keeps something of yours. A glove. A strand of hair. Something innocuous, tucked into his jacket like a holy relic.

You never lock your door. Not because you don’t want to—but because you can’t. It never stays locked with him.

He watches you sleep. But not sweetly. Like a god admiring his offering.

He adjusts his demeanor based on what makes you flinch—or melt. He learns your tells, your weaknesses. And he uses them.

He never says ‘I love you.’ He says, “You are mine.” And it means more. And it terrifies you

[torikuri]

Hi babe ♡ can you write a scenario where our Sebastian fell in love with a married woman? He would be extremely jealous lol (remember that tree scene when claude captured ciel) what will he saw them "doing it"

As we know, our Sebby will follow her and watch her, but tonight, he saw that he didn't want to see.

I think he would want to kill that man for touching his dear sweet mate in this way

Thanks in advance ♡♡

augh,, apparently this page has quickly become a seb fanpage but i’m not complaining LMAO,, this lowkey turned very yandere-ish, BUT OH WELL

a/n: contains a very pissy sebastian, ’boombayah’ scenes as the kids say (i think), though not that explicit. still, minors, look away.

in the eyes of a devil - sebastian michaelis x reader

the moon had cast it’s comforting glow over your estate long ago — the birds, once so loud in the warm summer days had long since fallen silent, tucked into their safe nests.

only a demon stalked the shadowy streets.

sebastian had never intended to fall prey to such a shameful sentiment as jealousy.

demons did not debase themselves with such pedestrian human frailties, you see— sebastian had thought this was but a mere passing phase.

but oh, were you his undoing. sebastian swore you were torturing him on purpose.

the butler had memorized the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips beneath velvet skirts, the way your breath caught when you thought you were alone.

long since had he discarded any delusion of restraint. in his eyes, you were his — and his alone.

a feral hiss had escaped his throat when he saw your bare body, bliant under your husband one fateful night.

the window that he was watching from covered none of your wanton moans, or his eyes from seeing how your nails gripped that man’s back, or how the silky nightdress he admired from afar was now bunched around your thighs by another man’s hands.

despicable.

sebastian didn’t blink. he wanted to sear the scene into his memory, to hate it properly—to dissect the sight of you so intimately entwined with a man unworthy of breathing the same air as you, let alone tasting the softness of your thighs.

what made it much worse, what boiled the demon’s blood, was how sweetly you responded. lips parted, chest rising with desperate need, fingers clutching him—the wrong man—as if he were salvation to your drowning.

sebastian could imagine it, how he’d take you away. he could imagine ripping that man apart for even touching an ounce of your soft skin.

then, maybe he would bare his teeth against your throat and leave a proper mating mark. claim you again and again.

only then would you realize your fate. how right it would feel to be in his arms. how well you two fit together.

but for tonight, he supposed he’d wait. wish you goodnight after that man had fallen asleep; when only you could hear him.

but this night would be the last one you’d spend in your husbands arms.

”sleep tight, little mate,” sebastian hissed under his breath, ”you’ll be mine soon enough — only mine.”