#kuroshitsuji sebastian

[birbborrower]

"my lord, I would advise putting the lamp out"

My iPad nearly crashed drawing this.

(Ps the colours might look a little different depending on your screens brightness!!)

[sylure]

── ❦. It's Just A Love Bite, Darling | Sebastian Michaelis x f!reader

. ˳༚༅༚ explicit content, smut, mdni: pet names, heavy marking (biting, hickeys), blood, condescending praise, oral receiving

♱ word count: 2k

You sit down without thinking.

That is mistake number one.

The sharp bite of pain makes your breath hitch before you can catch it, and you have to cover the sound with an exaggerated sip of your drink, eyes darting around the café to check if someone might have seen you flinch.

Nobody has, obviously not. No one ever does. They will never know what kind of mess you are under your coat.

And he? Of course, he planned it that way.

You should be focusing on your planner, or the pastry on your plate, or anything other than the heated flicker of memory dragging its nails down your spine.

But the ghost of his voice hums in your ear, laced with pretentious care and unshakable smugness. "Did I go too deep, darling? You do squirm so prettily when it stings."

You feel your face heat up immediately. Not just because it does sting, but because the barista just asked if you need anything else, and you may have squeaked a tiny "No thank you," like a guilty schoolgirl.

You shift again. 

Mistake number two.

You know better... or at least you should. The soreness isn't subtle. It blooms in places no one can see, but you feel it with every tiny adjustment; dull and deep and far too intimate. You try to keep your face neutral, to mask the small gasp that slips out behind your straw as you sip your drink, as if that will help.

It doesn't.

Your thighs are aching, pulsing faintly where his mouth—his teeth—made their home last night. Though it's not just the pain that pesters you; it's the memory, the warmth and the way he looked at you when you begged him not to stop.

It was supposed to be gentle. That's what Sebastian told you at least, murmured against your neck as he helped you out of your clothes. Though, all too greedily did his hands trail over your figure, did his mouth brush your ear as he promised you, "Just a little tenderness tonight, dove. You've earned it."

And it was, at first. Tender, sweet even... at least by Sebastian's standards. He didn't pounce, no, he invited himself in, with fingertips under your chin that tilted your face up to his. His mouth brushed over yours with the kind of softness that felt like a trap, and his tongue teased your lips, coaxed them open until he could taste your desire. You had barely any sense left to hold on to when Sebastian's hand slid to the back of your neck, anchoring you there until you were half-drunk on him.

By the time he laid you back on the bed, your body was pliant, your clothes in disarray, accompanied by a fluttering heart, and need conveyed in the impatient shift of your hips.

A whimper passed your lips into his mouth when he finally leaned down. "Breathe," Sebastian had murmured, while his fingers ran down your stomach. "I'll take care of everything."

First, he looked. With one hand on your waist, the other smoothing down your side, his gaze swept over you in a way that made your knees weak, not from lust but from the sheer weight of his attention, like you were a thing of rare beauty he was planning to ruin.

That's when his lips curled into a smile. "Needy little thing," Sebastian had murmured as his lips ghosted over your cheek, your jaw, down your throat. You whined when he didn't immediately do more, and he laughed. Not cruelly, but knowingly. Like he was enjoying your unravelling more than the act itself.

He kissed lower still, to the soft slope of your chest and moved along your figure with maddening patience, savouring every inch before he dipped lower.

His mouth reached your stomach, his sharp teeth brushing skin Sebastian had already bruised some nights ago. And then he looked up at you from between your legs, those haunting eyes seemed to smoulder faintly in the dark. He was something inhuman, unholy, and entirely too smug.

And that’s when it started. A chuckle rang in his torture before words of satisfation where barely breathed along your skin. "Always so tense, dear," Sebstian's tongue flicked out to taste you, just below the swell of your hip, "like you don't trust me to be gentle."

He kissed the inside of your thigh so soft, so sweet to cause your fingers to curl tight into the sheets as a whimper slipped past your teeth, half-plea, half-warning, because you knew that kind of softness never came without consequence.

And maybe that's why the shift hit so hard. The way his mouth trailed down your body with slow kisses until everything became suddenly hungrier. His voice lowered when he reached your legs and murmured something dark and utterly pleased.

"You always get so fidgety when I take my time." His teeth grazed the inside of your thigh and you twitched in response, causing Sebastian's grip to tighten and pin your hips to the bed. "Now, now. Be good. You'll like this part."

"You said that last time," you managed, your voice embarrassingly thin. "You bit me—"

"Mhm." His mouth curved against your skin. "And didn't you come beautifully after?"

You remember the words that slipped from you next; they were unsure, breathless, a stammered "I-I did, I just—" but they never made it to the end, because his mouth opened wide and then closed around you with no warning, teeth sinking into your thigh with the kind of precision that should have been inhumane but was instead rather exquisite, a pain so sharp and sudden that your back arched off the mattress and a cry clawed its way out of your throat.

"S-Sebastian—!" you choked out, somewhere between a whine and a complaint, your hands scrabbling for anything—sheets, his wrist, the edge of your sanity.

But Sebastian didn't stop, he didn't even flinch.

"Wait—" you gasped, half way sitting up, only for him to push you back down. Sebastian held you there, with lips sealed to your skin, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still since you writhed against him.

The mark throbbed and burned so sweetly, and he knew. He knew how shamefully good he made you feel as his fingers moved along your wet panties.

And then, as you panted and whimpered, your legs trembling beneath his palms, Sebastian pulled back with a sigh like he had just tasted something divine.

"Poor thing," he cood, and licked over the wound with infuriating calmness. "It's just a love bite, darling. Don't pout."

But you were pouting. You were whimpering as he kissed the bruise he had created, soft in a way that made you shudder all the more. Until he moved to the other thigh and all that relaxation was forgotten.

"No, no, no—please, I just—" you started, panic-stricken as your breath caught. You tried to speak, but it came out in fragments; a protest, a moan, a breathless complaint that sounded more like please do it again rather than please stop, and Sebastian must have heard it for what it was, because he kissed you again, lower this time, so close to where you pulsed with need for his attention.

"It's simply music to my ears when you whine like that," he whispered, nuzzling into your panty-clad heat with a tenderness that made you feel absurdly, sickeningly adored, "like you hate it, but you still open your legs for me every time."

"S-Sebastian— you... bastard!"

Sebastian licked the mark once. Then again before smiling a wicked curve that means he was not done yet. "Such desperation. It's rather unbecoming" he speaks softly, and kisses your inner thigh, slow and wet. "But flattering."

So he kissed your inner thigh once more, then a third time, his lips plush and lingering. "Shhh, dove. Just one more. For symmetry."

He held your legs open with one hand, just firm enough to make you feel it. And then his mouth opened wide, and he bit the other thigh just as hard.

Your hands curled into the sheets, your voice cracking as you cried out, pleasure and pain in equal measure bloomed under his mouth.

He didn't rush, he didn't soothe. Instead, Sebastian pressed open-mouthed kisses to each mark like he was blessing them, low murmurs of "so pretty" falling between each kiss. 

You cried out half in pain, half something worse, and tried to close your legs, but he tsked gently, mouthing at the angry new bruise like an artist admiring his brushstroke.

You remember his mouth dipping lower, his voice purring things like, "Look at you," while his thumb brushed over your clit before gathering more of your slick. "Falling apart from just a few love bites. How terribly fragile."

You could barely get out his name because you were too busy gasping for air as his tongue finally tasted you, slow and steady until you finally came under his mouth.

You fisted into neatly-styled black strands, your thighs trembled around his head, as your helpless voice gasped and cried in ways that made your demon feel as though he had achieved something virtuous.

You came embarrassingly fast. And then again... and again. And Sebastian never let you close your thighs, not once, not even when you were crying from how good it hurt.

When he finally kissed his way back up to your mouth, you were a wreck. A sight to behold that made Sebastian smile so sweetly, you were sure it was fake.

"My darling," he whispered, smoothing your hair back, "you wear suffering so beautifully."

You could have slapped him, you wanted to. But instead, you clung to him and let him pamper you to bed like the spoiled, aching creature he had made you.

─── ♱

And now? You still feel him between your legs, still feel his breath hot and heavy, his voice low and amused as it curls against your skin. The reminder of Sebastian the reminder is everywhere.

Especially so once you press your thighs together under the café table, hissing quietly as the pressure stokes the soreness into something more dangerous. 

The chair is your enemy today, and Sebastian, wherever he is, absolutely knows.

It's not even noon and you're already ruined by memory, by sensation, by the stupid little love note folded neatly in your coat pocket. You haven't opened it yet, instead you try to focus on your planner, on your to-do list, on anything but the heat between your legs and the fresh pulse of soreness you can't escape.

Sebastian tucked the note in sometime before he vanished this morning—right after leaving a bouquet of peonies and devil's trumpet on the windowsill. 

You slide out the square of thick ivory paper, sealed in deep black wax with an S stamped through it. The handwriting is graceful.

You unfold it with a sigh, your thighs clenching before your eyes even hit the words.

My beloved, I trust you are reminded of me today. Try not to squirm so much. You will only bruise deeper. Sit pretty. Yours (in all the inconvenient ways), — Sebastian.

[faioula16]

i love how you write sebastian, could you write headcannons for him with a breeding/pregnancy kink. thank you!! 😊

SEBASTIAN HAVING A BREEDING/PREGNANCY KINK FOR YOU HEADCANNONS

✿⁠ I am so glad you are enjoying this specific iteration of him! This version of Sebastian, the obsessive, ancient entity who finds his salvation in a mortal mate, is perfectly suited for this particular dynamic. For a creature born of the void, the concept of creation is the ultimate, intoxicating novelty. To a demon, destruction is easy. But to plant a seed in his mate and watch it grow? That is a display of absolute, god-like power.

✿⁠ To Sebastian, the external silver mark is a warning to the world. But breeding you is the internal mark. He views his seed as a concentrated dose of his magical essence. When he fills you, he believes he is literally weaving his darkness into your biology. It is the ultimate territorial claim, demons navigate by scent. When he finishes inside you, your scent changes drastically to his demonic nose. The mix of your natural sweetness with his heavy, ozone-and-spice musk drives him feral. He will follow you around the house for hours afterward, burying his face in your neck, high on the smell of his own essence incubating inside your warmth.

✿⁠ Demons represent decay and the end of things. You represent life, the act of breeding you is his way of cheating his own nature. He loves the paradox, the monster of death creating life in the woman he worships. When Sebastian is in a breeding mindset aka demon heat, his style of lovemaking shifts from slow, romantic worship to a heavy, primal deposition.

✿⁠ He prioritizes positions that offer the maximum possible depth like having your legs over his shoulders, or the prone bone. He wants to press against your cervix. While in human form, he doesn't have literal canine anatomy, but he uses his magic to simulate it. Upon climax, he channels blood and magical heat to swell significantly, creating a physical lock that prevents you from moving away while he pulses into you.

✿⁠ He views his seed as a precious gift. He hates any waste, especially when it comes to his cum inside you or your sweet essence. After he finishes, he refuses to let you stand up. He slides his hands under your hips, lifting your pelvis into the air. "Do not move" He murmurs, his chest heaving, his hand pressing flat against your lower stomach. "Keep it all inside. Squeeze tight for me, my love. Absorb every drop"

✿⁠ His whispers during these sessions are deeply possessive and focused on fertility. "I am going to fill you so deep you won't be able to breathe anything but me" or "Take my cum. Let it grow inside you and do a worthy heir" or "I want to leave you heavy with it. I want you waddling with my semen" or "Good girl. Taking my seed like the perfect, greedy little you are~"

✿⁠ If you actually become pregnant, Sebastian’s kink goes into overdrive, becoming a terrifyingly beautiful tyranny of comfort. Long before you even show, Sebastian is obsessed with your stomach. He can hear the second heartbeat weeks before a human doctor could detect it. He lays with his ear pressed to your bare belly. He hums his demonic purr directly into your womb, claiming he is calming the heir. He treats your stomach as a sacred temple.

✿⁠ Human women often worry about the physical changes of pregnancy (weight gain, stretch marks, swelling). Sebastian worships them. He loves that you are getting softer and heavier. To him, every pound you gain is proof of his successful breeding. He traces them with his tongue. "Silver pathways" He calls them. "The architecture of my legacy stretching your skin...beautiful"

✿⁠ He traces the blue veins that become prominent on your breasts and stomach, kissing them because they are working so hard to sustain what he put inside you. Your autonomy is revoked. For nine months, you are the most guarded object in the cosmos. You drop a pen? Do not bend over. A shadow tendril will hand it to you before your waist bends a single degree. You strictly eat only what he cooks. He calculates the exact magical and nutritional requirements of a half-demon fetus and tailors every bite. If you crave something weird (like pickles and honey), he makes it, but uses artisanal pickles and gold-leaf honey.

✿⁠ The aftermath of a frantic, primal session. You are lying on your back in the nest. Sebastian is still buried deep inside you, having just released a massive, shuddering climax. He doesn't withdraw. He collapses his upper body weight onto his forearms, framing your head. He is panting, a sheen of sweat on his pale skin, his eyes glowing a vibrant, satisfied crimson. He slowly slides his right hand down your side, his palm coming to rest heavy and flat over your lower abdomen. He spreads his fingers wide, covering the womb where his heat is currently pooling.

✿⁠ "So full" He groans softly, his thumb pressing gently into your plush skin. "You look so beautiful wrapped around me... holding my essence. Do you feel how hot it is?" He leans down, pressing a lingering, wet kiss to your jawline. "I could do this every day" He whispers, his voice dropping to a dark, addictive vibration against your ear. "I could breed you until this flat little stomach is round and tight with my child. Until you are too heavy to leave the nest, and I have to carry you everywhere"

✿⁠ He grinds his hips forward just a fraction, eliciting a soft whine from you, ensuring the seal between your bodies remains unbroken. "Would you like that, my Queen?" He hums, his eyes half-lidded with pure, gluttonous pride. "To be completely filled with my darkness? To grow my little hybrid inside you? Because looking at you right now...I am very, very tempted to never pull out"

[cuddlycutiepie]

Teacher! Sebastian Michaelis x Teacher! Female Reader

A/N: This takes place in the Black Butler: Public School Arc before Ciel and Sebastian finds Derrick & The others

⚠️ NSFW ⚠️

The oil lamp sputtered on your desk, casting your chambers in warm shadow. You’d stayed late again—grading, preparing, anything to fill the silence. Weston had a way of feeling heavy at night, its corridors too long, its rules too rigid, its traditions smothering. And lately…its shadows seemed to whisper.

A knock startled you. Before you could answer, the door opened.

“Still awake, Miss [L/N]?” The low, refined voice curled through the room, smooth as silk, sharp as steel.

Sebastian Michaelis stepped inside, tall, composed, every movement deliberate. Another teacher—or so you thought. His presence always unsettled you, though you could never place why. He was courteous, professional…but the way his crimson eyes gleamed in lamplight stirred something dangerously primal in your chest.

“Mr. Michaelis,” you said carefully, setting down your pen. “It’s late. Did you need something?”

His lips curved, not quite a smile. “Only a moment of your time.” The door clicked shut behind him, and the quiet locked you both inside.

He moved closer, until he loomed over your desk. His gloved hand brushed across the papers you’d been marking, but his gaze never left yours. “You work too hard. Do you never allow yourself…indulgence?”

Something in his tone struck deeper than it should have. Your throat tightened. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

That was when his restraint broke.

He seized your wrist, tugging you up from your chair with effortless strength. In one swift motion, he turned you, pressing you back against the desk, his body flush with yours. His mouth captured yours before protest could leave your lips—rough, consuming, tongue sliding past your teeth like he owned the right.

Heat shot down your spine, shock and hunger warring in your veins. You should have pushed him away. You didn’t.

His hands were everywhere—clawed fingertips dragging over your waist, your thighs, leaving faint pricks against fabric. He tore at the buttons of your blouse, lips trailing down your throat, sharp teeth scraping until you gasped. That sound pulled a guttural growl from his chest, inhuman, dangerous.

The skirt rode high as he lifted you onto the desk, pushing your legs apart with knee and hand. His gloved fingers hooked beneath your underwear, ripping them with a sound that made you shiver. The ruined fabric fluttered to the floor.

“Such fragility,” he murmured, voice slipping lower, less human. “And yet—so responsive.”

Two fingers slid into you, unrelenting, stretching, curling until your head fell back. He set a merciless rhythm, stroking that sensitive spot inside until you moaned his name, nails clawing into his jacket. His eyes burned brighter—hellish crimson—and for an instant, you thought you saw the faint silhouette of wings cast against the wall.

He didn’t let you catch breath before he replaced his hand with the hard length of him, driving in with one brutal thrust that forced a cry from your throat. The desk groaned under the force, papers scattering to the floor. He filled you completely, hips snapping forward in a punishing pace.

He rasped, fangs bared, aura heavy and suffocating. His hand gripped your throat, not enough to choke but to hold you still, to feel your pulse thrumming wildly. His other hand clutched your hip hard enough to bruise, claws piercing faint crescents into your skin.

The collision of bodies, the wet sound of him plunging into you again and again, the scent of sweat and heat and something darker—all of it blurred into a haze. You tightened around him, pleasure spiraling higher, and his composure faltered. His growls deepened, primal, every thrust harder, faster, like he needed to stake a claim inside you.

When you shattered around him, crying out his name, his head dropped to your shoulder. With a snarl, he drove himself as deep as he could and spilled inside you, shuddering, the sound torn from him almost feral.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His chest heaved against yours, claws still biting into your skin as though he couldn’t bear to release you. His forehead rested on your shoulder, breaths ragged, aura curling possessively around you.

And then—just as quickly as it had came undone—his composure returned.

He drew back, eyes still glowing faintly, expression unreadable. His thumb brushed your cheek almost tenderly, a strange contrast to the violence he’d just wrought. He studied you as though you were something alien—something he couldn’t quite categorize.

Finally, he spoke.

“Now, Miss [L/N]…” His voice had cooled, smoothed, but the hunger remained. “Tell me what you know of Derrick Arden. And the others who’ve gone missing.”

Your stomach dropped, still trembling from his touch. “What…?”

“Do not feign ignorance,” he said, leaning in until his lips brushed your ear. “You spoke with him before he disappeared. Tell me what you know.”

His hand tightened on your hip, reminding you of just how easily he’d held you down moments before. His crimson gaze pinned you, sharp, merciless—and yet beneath it, something flickered. Something not hunger. Something not possession. Something he didn’t even recognize in himself.

For the first time in centuries, Sebastian Michaelis realized he could care.

And that truth unsettled him more than any information you could give.

Your chambers were too quiet. The lamp guttered low, the scent of sweat and sex still hanging in the air. You sat perched on the edge of your desk, blouse half-buttoned, your thighs trembling from what he had done to you.

And yet Sebastian stood immaculate. Not a single dark hair was out of place, not a wrinkle in his uniform. Only the faint crimson glow lingering in his eyes betrayed the inhuman heat still coursing through him.

“Derrick Arden,” he repeated, the syllables precise, edged. “Tell me what you know of him.”

You shook your head, still breathless. “I don’t… I don’t know anything. He came to me about an assignment, that’s all. He was distracted, but I assumed it was nothing more than the usual pressures. The next morning, he was gone.”

Sebastian tilted his head, regarding you like a hawk circling prey. His hand reached out, gloved fingers lifting your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze. “Distracted,” he murmured. “How so?”

“He seemed tired. Nervous, maybe. But students often are.” You swallowed hard, unnerved by the crimson depth of his stare. “He never hinted at anything. I swear it.”

The words rang true. He could feel it. He could taste the truth in your voice, in the frantic drum of your pulse. Humans were open books to him—pages he could tear apart with ease. And yet…he lingered, eyes searching yours for something more, something that had nothing to do with Derrick Arden.

His thumb brushed over your lower lip where he’d cut you earlier with his fang. A drop of dried blood still marked the corner. His own breath hitched faintly—an imperceptible slip.

“You truly know nothing,” he said at last, though his voice was softer now, less demand and more contemplation.

“I told you.” You pushed his hand away, but the gesture lacked strength. He’d stolen that from you with his body.

Instead of leaving, he leaned closer, his mouth ghosting over your ear. “You’re fortunate I believe you. I am not often so…merciful.”

A shiver raced through you. His presence was suffocating, but it wasn’t fear that knotted in your stomach. It was something far more dangerous.

He should have ended it there—taken your answer, turned, and walked away. But Sebastian didn’t move. His hand traced down your arm, gloved fingertips grazing the back of your hand. Gentle. Curious. Almost…hesitant.

What was this?

He’d had countless humans beneath him. Countless souls begging, screaming, pleading. But you were different. He didn’t crave the marrow of your essence, didn’t salivate at the thought of tearing you open and feasting. Instead, he craved the sound of your voice, the way your body yielded under his, the fire in your gaze when you tried to resist him.

It unsettled him. It infuriated him.

Because Sebastian Michaelis was a demon. And demons did not care.

“Mr. Michaelis…” you said softly, your voice unsteady. “Why are you really here?”

His smile returned—polished, sharp, practiced. “Simply doing my duty as a fellow teacher, ensuring the safety of my students.”

But the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

His eyes swept over you one last time, memorizing the disheveled lines of your blouse, the bruises blooming beneath his gloves, the defiance in your gaze despite it all. Something dark and possessive tightened in his chest.

He turned toward the door, every line of his body screaming elegance, composure. But his hand hesitated on the knob. For the first time in centuries, he almost didn’t trust himself to look back.

And yet he did.

“Miss [L/N]…” His crimson eyes softened for only a fraction of a second. “Lock your door. Weston can be…unpredictable at night.”

Then he was gone.

And you were left alone, your heart hammering, unaware that you had just unsettled the most unshakable demon to ever walk the earth.

╭──────────.★..─╮

Timeskip

╰─..★.──────────╯

The night outside Weston was thick and silent, but inside Sebastian’s mind, there was no peace.

He should have dismissed you. He should have taken your truth for what it was, cataloged it, and turned his attention back to the task his young master demanded of him. And yet—he found his steps leading him back to you. Again and again, like a moth lured to flame.

Demons didn’t feel. They devoured. But tonight, his body betrayed him.

Your chamber door was locked, just as he had instructed. Still, he slipped the latch with a flick of his hand and let himself in. The soft glow of lamplight still lingered, though you’d clearly tried to sleep. You stirred when you sensed him, sitting up in your bed, covers pooling at your waist.

“Mr. Michaelis?” your voice was husky, wary, but not unwelcoming.

“Forgive me,” he said smoothly, though his tone was lower than usual. “I find myself…restless.”

He didn’t wait for permission this time. In three strides he was at your bedside, tugging you into his arms and pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss was fierce, hungry—but not the same hunger as before. It wasn’t about dominance or information. It was something darker, softer, infinitely more dangerous.

You gasped against him as he pushed you back into the pillows, his weight settling over you. His gloves fell to the floor, discarded, and when his bare hands touched your skin, his claws scratched lightly—danger nipping at tenderness. He dragged your nightdress up, lips roaming down your throat, fangs grazing without breaking skin.

He growled against your collarbone, the sound rougher than he meant it to be. His hips rolled against yours, hard and needy, betraying his carefully cultivated composure.

You whispered his name like a prayer, and that was all it took. He freed himself, guiding your legs around his waist, and sank into you in one deep thrust. The air left your lungs, replaced with a broken moan.

This time, he didn’t pound into you with punishing force. His rhythm was steady, deep, dragging out every sensation as though memorizing the shape of you around him. His forehead pressed to yours, his eyes burning red but softer now, almost…vulnerable.

You clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he obeyed without thought, burying himself deeper. Every sound you made unraveled him further, shredding the fragile line between demon and something far more human.

When you came around him, tight and trembling, he let go as well, spilling inside you with a low, guttural groan, his claws carving into the sheets on either side of your head to stop himself from breaking you apart.

Silence followed, broken only by your unsteady breaths.

And then—something unthinkable happened.

You shifted closer, tucking yourself against his chest as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Within minutes, your breathing evened out, soft and steady, your head resting on him.

Sebastian froze.

He should have risen. He should have left before dawn, as he always did, before humans woke and remembered. But instead…his arms moved of their own accord, curling around you, holding you there. His clawed fingers traced absent circles along your back, gentle.

He stared into the darkness of your room, the weight of you warm against him. Something inside him twisted, alien and unwelcome—and yet, he didn’t reject it.

For the first time in centuries, Sebastian Michaelis understood.

He didn’t want your soul. He wanted you.

And as you slept peacefully in his arms, he allowed himself the smallest, quietest smile.

A demon had no right to such a thing.

But perhaps, just this once, he would keep it anyway.

[firelyy-y]

[saintcapybara]

[vxleriaris]

[yan-lorkai]

hellooo, I saw that you had your requests open, so I was wondering if you could do Sebastian Michaelis x nun reader! like a reader who is in a convent and very devoted, but Sebastian is obsessed with making reader his and making them stray away from it all♡ i think it's a very interesting (and steamy) idea <33

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ a/n: smut, blasphemy, religious sacrilege, fem!reader.

His nose nuzzles into your neck, letting out a triumphant, feral roar at your desperate, slurred moan. "Yes, that's it! That's the sound I've been waiting to hear," he growled, his voice rough with savage triumph, a visceral heat in his tone as he licked the sweat from your neck as if it was the most delicious nectar - there was nothing better than this but your blood, which you had yet to offer him.

"Begging so sweetly, so needily, like the wanton little nun you are, giving your virginity to me as if I'm your God."

He surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal, pistoning thrust. The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping and shuddering beneath him. He didn't give you a chance to recover, immediately setting a punishing, relentless pace, as if he hadn't made you cum a few minutes before when he ate you out from behind.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be split open on my cock, fucked so hard and deep that you forget your own name. Forgotten, that is, except the name of the demon who's ruining this tight little cunt." He punctuated each word with a sharp, driving thrust, his hips slapping against your ass with obscene, lewd slaps that echoed through the room.

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. One hand slid up your side, cupping the swell of your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. The other hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, not choking, but just... holding you, claiming you, owning you.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight, my little nun," he snarled, feeling your velvet walls grip him like a vice, fluttering and clenching around his pistoning length. "So fucking perfect, like you were made to be my cock sleeve. Made to be used for my pleasure, to milk my dick dry with this hot, hungry little hole."

The pressure to your clit has you heaving, throbbing, and thrusting into you like his life depends on it. Something twists, pops, and rises to explode. Your moans turned louder, unashamed of the pure pleasure coursing through your whole body.

"My God," a slurred whine escapes you. It's full of hunger, of a wanting so pure to be known intimately and never having the opportunity. Tears stream down your face as his tip hit your cervix repeatedly. Deliciously.

"That's right, I'm your God, darling," he promised, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Scream my name, love."

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, of your juices squelching around his pistoning length, filled the room, a lewd symphony of your shared lust.

“I’m gonna come,” you wail, wanton, batshit crazy, a goddamn fucking mess. The demon growls, holding your hips down and pounding right into the perfect soft spot of your cunt. He pulls back agonizingly, delicious inch by inch, and slams into you like he’s trying to crack you open.

Sebastian let out a feral, triumphant growl at your wanton declaration, his eyes flashing with wild, manic lust. "Yes, that's it! That's my good girl, my perfect little sinner..." His voice was a low, seductive rumble, rough with desire and dark promise.

"I'm close too," he snarled, his grip on your hips tightening, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises. "So fucking close. I'm going to fill this tight little cunt, pump you full of my seed until it's dripping down your thighs. Until everyone knows you've been thoroughly claimed, thoroughly fucked, thoroughly ruined by your new God."

He leaned over you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck, his chest heaving against your back. One hand slid around to your front, finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, swift circles that had your back arching, your hips bucking, your pussy clenching around him like a velvet vise.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a low, dominant growl. "Come on my cock, scream my name, let the whole of the cathedral hear who you belong to now. Let them all know that you're mine, now and forever."

He slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he finally let go. His hot, thick seed spilled into you, coating your walls, marking you with his profane seed. He groaned long and low, his body shuddering against yours as he rode out the waves of his intense, overwhelming climax.

"Fuck yes, come with me," he growled, grinding his hips against yours, stirring his release deep inside you. "Come and be mine, my nun, my pet, my beautiful sinner." He captured your mouth in a searing, desperate kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy, his hands holding onto your body as you trembled against the wooden altar.

He smelled the sex frenzied smell as a hungry man, containing his hunger as he caressed your back slowly, like a lover. Like the tempter being he was.

And you let yourself fall into his affection, you let yourself be consumed and sullied, and held like a precious gem, without a care in the whole world.