"I refuse to use y/n so I give her oc name"???? SO IS NOT A READERINSERT ISN'T, WHY DONT YOU DO (F/O)/OC IS NOT THAT HARD OMG I HOPE THE A03 CURSE GET TO YOU
the dirty look he gives you, knowing that you slept with someone for information. he was very opposed to the idea if it weren’t for his master permitting you to do whatever it takes for the mission.
he remembers the blissful look on your face when joker pleasured you in his tent.
the human bears no privileges to taste you—to touch you, and to make you orgasm by his hands.
sebastian mournfully watches you manipulate joker, whispering commands on how to please you; the human only interrupts you with a deep, sloppy kiss—reassuring you that he knows how to make you feel good.
the poor tree close by the tent, where you two are about to fornicate in, snaps in half with his grip; sebastian feels quite delighted seeing the confused look on joker’s face; however, you were not oblivious.
you know damn well it was him throwing a tantrum.
so you give the butler a show.
the sounds you’re letting out feels too theatrical; sebastian knew that you’d rather die than have someone make you induce a noise so dirty.
the worse part? he knew you were sincerely enjoying it.
your eyes made contact with sebastian’s while joker is busy making out with you and grinding his hips deliciously against yours; the demon’s crimson eyes gleam in fury—your body shivers from the cold pressure of the wind and the demon’s rising aura.
the sounds of wet slaps of skins for hours are scratching deeply into his ear drums, he was this close to burning the tent. sebastian wants to slice joker’s tongue, his heightened hearing picks up the whispers he breathes in your ears—about how good you make him feel.
like a natural, you respond just the way joker wants you to. great heavens, you’re a nasty one.
your eyes rolled back in pleasure, letting out an exaggerated moan as the two of you reach your orgasm, rage almost blurs the clear mind of the butler’s.
because despite your advances, you had easily obtained the information needed.
sebastian is infuriated that you can easily sleep with a human you’ve just met, while you reject his advances every time inside the manor.
it makes him look needy, he thinks it’s pathetic and disgusting.
I love the idea of Ciel just sick of the servants trashing the manor all the time so he hires a fifth one who's actually a servant instead of a hitman/soldier/experiment in disguise. the interview goes rlly well! you get hired on the spot and you get along well with the other servants but then you meet the butler and you...
...just instantly know he's a demon.
its not like sebastian tries to hide it, but mostly everyone is happy to look the other way. but you've heard stories of demons having these eyes that are soulless and empty. and those are the exact horrors you're seeing within sebastian.
you can't just quit. you need the money, you cant just give up the opportunity to work for a nobleman. so you steel yourself. you shut your eyes and focus on the task at hand, but you do carry protection.
every night you pour a line of salt across your door. you carry around holy water. you wear a cross around your neck.
you make it oh so obvious that you know he's a demon....and sebastian is getting a little bored.
every morning you can see him casually sweeping away the salt line ("please do make sure you clean up your mess, next time"). he grabs the holy water and drinks it ("thank you for the refreshment, my throat was getting parched). And that one time when you misplaced your cross, you found it settled in Sebastian's bare ungloved hands as he 'returned' it to you ("such a pretty necklace. where did you obtain such an item?").
every. single. thing that you've been told wards off demons...did nothing.
your paranoia gets so bad that even Ciel starts noticing. he doesn't wanna just fire you because you're the only one who hasn't broken a plate when cleaning it. So, instead he just tells sebastian 'just pretend one of the charms actually wards you off'.
So Sebastian just lets you think that the lavender is actually doing something.
He makes a big show of it. He pinches his nose like he smells something bad every time he steps in a room with you. He stays 20 feet away from you at all times. He gets a kick out of it honestly.
Months go by and an inevitable break-in happens. the thugs were initially after Ciel but for whatever reason they take off with you instead.
But, over the coming months, the demon has developed a soft spot for you. he finds you really funny and was disappointed over the kidnapping. its sort of in the same way when you make friends with a squirrel and you feed it nuts, but one day it stops appearing in your window. <- like that.
Ciel is largely annoyed that he might have to replace a competent servant, so when Sebastian asks if he could take a five-minute break to 'grab a certain something', he shrugs and waves him off.
You're returned to the manor largely unharmed and in Sebastian's arms.
various x reader ; wc: 130 ; info: fluff, gn reader ; notes: i really thought i did something with that small paragraph huh 🥲✌🏼 ✶
"It's cold," you grumbled, shivering and pulling your coat tighter around you.
"For sure," he agreed.
There was a moment where neither of you said anything, but relished the moment of peace, watching the waves lazily splash against the jagged rocks, giving the sun a standing ovation before it passed the spotlight to the moon, the new star of the show, illuminating the dark sky with her radiant presence.
You yelped as you felt icy hands suddenly wrap themselves around your neck, the culprit snickering.
"Why would you do that?!"
"It's cold, and you're warm. My little portable heater."
"You're making me colder!"
"Aw, lemme make you feel better."
He pressed a kiss to your cheek but you yanked your face away.
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
content warnings! reader is a descendant of the phantomhive family, power imbalance (master/servant) but also (human/demon), somewhat monsterfucking if you squint (i wanted to make use of his ‘true form’ a little), smut, size difference, manhandling, praise, pet names (my lady, darling, dear), orgasm control, sacrilege, a tiny bit of blood, topics of loneliness
summary: after another tiresome day out in the world, you are greeted with your recent mistake—sebastian. a hand-me-down from your ancestors that you summoned by chance and who now apparently has a contract with you. yet this modern world, working women, independence, and your awfully bratty attitude are challenges that are entirely new to him. however, he did swear to serve you. so, allow him to take care of his tired "mistress"
wordcount: 5k | my kinktober masterlist
It's not every day that your job becomes stressful enough to fully tire you out. But today, today was even more draining than you had anticipated. Deep red eyes watch your tired form from across the hallway, raking over your figure as the owner remains quiet. Sebastian hasn't quite understood the fulfilment behind humans working themselves to the bone, nor the desire for young women to eagerly venture out to conquer "corporate," as you once called it.
Yet, understanding or not, he is sworn to serve you and look after you. You are in his care until the contract is completed.
For this, he steps forward, his touch as sultry and gentle as his voice as he welcomes you home. "My Lady," the demon begins, as strength returns to your figure upon the stabilising hold of his hands on the small of your back while you remove your heels. You meet his smile with a glare from your pretty eyes, still wary of your newly added décor.
"I can handle myself just fine, Sebastian." Yes, you're a feisty one. Sebastian has been well aware of that fact since the moment you met. You dislike men staring at you in the street, loathe the forced small talk with them at work, or having to humour one of them when all you want is to be in the safety and comfort of your home. The once safe haven you now share with some sort of butler, as he proclaimed upon your first encounter. Never would you have expected such an outcome from your family's antiques.
But here you are, the independent woman from before, now with a handsome devil at your beck and call. "You appear particularly exhausted tonight. Why not let me take care of you and help you to a restful night?" Sebastian proposes with gentle calmness to your vehemence as his hands return to rest behind his back.
He irritates you. His act of concern for you when all he truly cares for is your soul. The motive is clear, yet he play-acts something you cannot wrap your head around. "And what could you do for me?" you challenge in return, crossing your arms in front of your chest, the tip of your nose lifting a little higher to meet Sebastian's gaze. "Anything you wish," replies the butler, without a hint of malice in his words. "I would propose running a hot bath, brewing a warm cup of tea, and—" he pauses, clearly having caught himself with an idea you would despise.
The proposal sounds pleasing, almost exactly what you would do if you weren't feeling too lazy to run a bath. But he doesn't need to know that. Your expression remains unfaltering, almost challenging. "And what? Speak, Sebastian." The quirk of your brow ticks Sebastian off in just the right way, your confidence and demand a challenge he secretly enjoys.
The distance between your bodies grows smaller, and a gloved hand tips your chin up as red hues draw near. "A massage for your exhausted figure, my Lady." He drawls the title, a pinch of condescension hidden in his words. You can't resist the idea of standing on your toes, leaning further into his space to see him shrink away as your lips almost brush Sebastian's while you speak: "Carry me, Sebastian."
Yet, he does not shy away. He feels your pulse quicken, hears your heart drumming a beat of bravery, while your sweet lips could offer a relief he hasn't felt in millennia. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth upon your demand and, without hesitation, you find yourself in his embrace. Knees and shoulders pressed firmly against his body, Sebastian carries you to your bedroom.
He knows tonight won't be easy on him either. Sebastian is well aware of the mischief you try to conceal, to seem more mature than you actually are. But tonight appears different; tonight, you bring new challenges to your rendezvous as your head finds its rest on his shoulder. The tease of your breath against his neck, your smaller fingers playing with his necktie as you wet your lips. Nothing good comes from those pretty lips, Sebastian notes.
"Sebastian?" How can you suddenly say his name so softly? He looks down to you, the crimson tinge to his eyes making him appear like a starved hunter under the faint lights of the streetlamps and mood lights in your apartment. "The water is already ready and at the perfect temperature for the female body." Of course, he had heard your footsteps from afar and decided that tonight would be perfect for a bath. He is an expert at planning, at being one step ahead of everyone else. That is, until you continue speaking. A simple command, short and to the point, too alluring: "Undress me."
You need to try harder if you wish to get a rise from him. For now, you find yourself seated on your bathroom counter, a newly found frown adorning your face. It doesn't suit you, but it entertains Sebastian. "Your wish is my command," he speaks an octave lower, honey almost dripping from his words before skilled fingers smooth out the fabric of your blouse. Sebastian's gaze does not meet yours while he unbuttons it; he stays focused on the task without lusting over your exposed skin. Suddenly, you wish he would want to devour you. The gloved touch that teases your upper body is not enough, yet so close to the fulfilling feeling of desire that you miss.
The item is pushed off your shoulders before he helps your arms out of the fabric. "May I continue?" The question is accompanied by one hand held out to you, palm facing up for you to grasp and rise to your feet. In one swift move, you find yourself staring at your reflection as Sebastian spins you around to undo the intricate buttons of your skirt you had struggled with this morning—why must designers place them in such difficult spots?
To nobody's surprise, they are undone as quickly as your blouse, before your silk dress follows suit and pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a tantalising set of underwear—dark red, almost a perfect match to Sebastian's eyes. You hadn't noticed your transfixed stare in the mirror until your eyes meet his, yet you refuse to shy away. No, like the little vixen that you are, you lean forward just enough to expose yourself further to your demon as you pretend to busy yourself by wiping off your lipstick.
It feels humbling to witness his gaze remain unfaltering; Sebastian continues to look into your eyes rather than the places you want his greed to be. "I will prepare your tea now," he states as business continues as usual before leaving you alone.
A sigh is all you allow yourself as your shoulders slump. You really tried to seduce him. At the thought, you find a smile tugging at your mouth, the lust to be desired something that has been missing for a while now in your life. You know work, you know how to overwork yourself, and you have no time for flings or meaningless encounters. And then, he entered the picture.
Upon Sebastian's return, he finds you seated in the bathtub; You've made sure to keep your hair out of the water and expose your neck, for hungry eyes to appreciate the shein layer of damp on your skin. The plate beneath the teacup meets the ceramic of your bathtub as your widened—nearly pleading—eyes shoot up to meet his. Had you acted a second quicker, you might have caught him staring at your cleavage, barely covered by the water and foam.
"Is there anything else you may need?" Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a greater challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word "You" could weaken a demon of his calibre is something for future Sebastian to concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: "Massage me, my butler."
You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while coaxing the cutest sounds past your lips? How can you act this way when at night you hump your pillow and beg for more, something better? Yet in the daylight, you behave like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. One or two more slip-ups, and he might find a loophole in your contract and commands.
To your dismay, gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. "Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully." Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of "Yes, my lady," echoes back. Shivers elicit along your neck as his skin touches yours, and the strength behind Sebastian's touch massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.
The moment is sweet enough to let your eyes fall closed, your head resting against Sebastian's thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. Your mewl is involuntary, a little embarrassing, and it snaps Sebastian's attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features. Even a demon can admit that some humans are beautiful. Sometimes, that beauty doesn't surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique about you that captivates Sebastian's attention and lust.
You catch him staring as your eyes flutter open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable, with him leaning above you. "Naughty butler…" you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. "If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me." The disrespectful teasing, as if he were nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else, someone he couldn't wait to devour. But what else could he do but make himself useful? He shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his button-down before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.
Until you've had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident as you lean into his proximity: Your fingers lace around Sebastian's wrist like a personal handcuff, your eyes locking onto his. "Be more thorough, Sebastian. Wash away the filth." You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine, and Sebastian watches you attentively, witnessing your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He has never obeyed such a troublesome person before.
"Is there anything else you may need?" Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a bigger challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word "You" could make a demon of his calibre weak is something future Sebastian can concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: "Massage me, my butler."
You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while he pulled the cutest sounds from your lips? How can you act this way when, at night, you hump your pillow and beg for more, for better? Yet in the daylight, you act like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. Only a little more, one or two more slip-ups, and he could find a loophole in your contract and commands.
To your dismay, his gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. "Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully." Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of "Yes, my lady," echoes past. Shivers elicit along your neck upon his skin against yours, upon the strength behind Sebastian's touch as he massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.
The moment is sweet enough to allow your eyes to close, your head leaning against Sebastian's thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. Your mewl is involuntary, a little embarrassing as it snaps Sebastian's attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features; even a demon can admit there are beautiful humans. Sometimes that beauty doesn't surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique and captivating about you that holds Sebastian's attention and lust.
You catch him staring as your eyes open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable as he leans above you. "Naughty butler…" you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. "If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me." The disrespectful teasing, as if he is nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else—someone he couldn't wait to devour. But what else can he do but make himself useful? He shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his button-down before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure with the cloth and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.
Until you've had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident, leaning into his proximity, your fingers lace around Sebastian's wrist like a personal handcuff, eyes locking onto his as you speak. "Be more thorough, Sebastian, wash away the filth." You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine. Sebastian watches you attentively, witnessing your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He's never obeyed such a troublesome person before.
You start to bring out the worst in him—something that wants to teach you a lesson, something to remind you how different the roles could be if it weren't for this contract. The washcloth is pushed over your breasts and dips beneath the surface of the water to run along your stomach before being abandoned entirely as Sebastian's fingers dip into the supple flesh of your thighs. Blunt nails drag along your inner thighs, and he loves to watch the shift in your demeanour; how you grow shy beneath his touch, your stare faltering as he draws dangerously close to your sacred area.
There is no bite to your bark as you cry out his name, your need for him too evident while you try to maintain a pretence. "S-Sebastian!" Finally, you act as your thighs press shut around his hand on instinct, panic so evident in your pretty eyes he can't stop the devilish smirk from spreading across his features—as if you could stop now. "My dear, don't tell me you expect to play with fire and come out unharmed…"
The next moment, your back meets the cold stone as Sebastian races forward, hands placed left and right from your figure on the edge of the bathtub. The impact forces a puff of air to escape your lips as your eyes snap up to meet your butler's dark pair, searching for a trace of humanity in those pools of crimson. "Behave…" you attempt to regain control, which is met with a chuckle. "I only follow your commands," he challenges as the cloth returns to clean your body. "You wanted me to be thorough, let me be thorough."
However, the lips that crash against the racing pulse in your neck have nothing to do with the command of cleaning your body. Sebastian acts upon his own selfish accord, upon the lust you've ignited by teetering too close to the dangerous territories of demonic desires.
And he makes you feel too good as he ravages you, suckling and nipping at your skin until you can't help but moan, your head falling back to offer him more space. You can't even think of a fitting command, the sweet words for him to "Don't stop, please," a much more natural reaction as his palms cup your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you whimper ever so prettily.
"Who would have thought you could turn into such a sweet darling?" Sebastian teases with whispered words against the shell of your ear, the hum that follows so deep and low it has your stomach fluttering. Your fingers lace between his dark strands, effectively holding him in place as you return to being face-to-face with Sebastian. Shamelessly, you allow yourself to rake your eyes over his sharp features. You've never wanted anything more than him. But the thought evaporates upon the sharp sensation of nails against your waistline and hips, upon the pair of fingers pushing between your folds before rubbing against your clit. Oh? How willingly you part your legs now, Sebastian muses.
"Is this thorough enough, my lady?" he mocks as his fingertips press against the opening of your pussy, your eager hole spreading slightly as he pushes past. He knows what he's doing to you. He sees it in the crease of your brow, feels it as your hips buck against his touch. "More, Sebastian, I need more tonight." Like the greedy thing you are, you take it upon yourself to play with your breasts, yet the silent plea in your eyes tells your butler all you want is for him to take care of you.
"Oh dear," he whispers gently, but smiles victoriously as your moans tumble from your trembling lips when two of his fingers push inside you. "Do you give yourself to me? Allow me full reign, hm?"
The idea sounds great, perfect, until you manage to flutter your heavy eyes open and see the devious apparition in front of you. Sebastian's eyes are more slanted, set ablaze, deep pink hues now replacing his usual red, with lust overflowing past his thick lashes as pointed teeth hide behind his full lips. Giving yourself to a demon doesn't seem like the best idea, but the fingers stimulating your gummy spot have you nodding regardless. How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances.
How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances. "Darling, tell me," Sebastian urges as his thrusts become harsher, uncaring for the water or your comfort as your tits bounce and your walls clamp so promisingly. "N-no, no, Sebastian! Just, ah—" you falter as you try your best to stay present, to keep control over this demon while he fingerfucks you. "Think, speak, quickly, little Lady," he further pressures you. What he wouldn't give to do with your body whatever he wants. "Just-, just tonight! Sebastian—" the way you moan his name makes you a sinner itself, it should send you to all seven hells as the echoes ring inside his mind. "Look after me, tonight," you finally manage to cry out as your walls pull in desperate need. "Make me feel good," your final demand.
But instead of sweet release, you feel the disappointing emptiness as he retracts his fingers, leaving you a heaving mess in your bathtub—only now do you notice how cold the water has turned. "You can ask more nicely than that, my dear." There is little consideration to be spared for the length of your bath once a strong arm wraps around your waist. Sebastian wastes no time in having you seated on his lap, your wet form drenching his clothing as he spreads your legs over his thighs and presses you flush against his chest. "I will look after you until the day you die," he whispers into your ear, and maybe if the words weren't so true and less intimidating, you could consider them romantic.
You notice that Sebastian's form has returned to fully human, with almost tender eyes meeting yours this time around, turning your desire mellow and seasoned with sweetness. "Kiss me, please." He follows suit as your lips crash together a moment later, his palms stabilising your back in his hold. "More…" you breathe. Your fingers reach out to guide one of his hands on your back, between the valley of your tits, down your stomach, until you ultimately buck your hips against his, seeking further friction in desperate need. He tightens his hold on your body, tugging gently at your frame as he leans forward to suck on your wet skin, leaving marks in his wake. A small grin tugs at his lips as a soft whimper escapes you. "What's wrong?" The whispered question makes goosebumps spread over your skin as the chill of his breath battles with the warmth of your bathroom.
"Want to be ruined by you." The words that fall past your lips seal your fate. "Please, make me feel good, Sebastian." You sound so desperate, only a fool would resist. "Taint me," you shamelessly sigh against his ear, "Let me feel you."
"Taint you…" he murmurs, halting his movements momentarily to witness you grow impatient before one of his arms holds a firm grip around your waist, restricting your movements as you're now fully pressed against his chest. "How much more does my little Lady want to be tainted?" His free hand ghosts along your puffy lips, your slick making the drag too easy, too appealing to not draw circles into your clit, only pulling back any time he feels you squirm on his lap. "Until the gates of heaven have closed forever for you?" Your little cries are music to Sebastian's ears. It's so good, too good, the way his fingers move, almost as if he already knows all your weak spots. "Do you wish to experience bliss only I could give you, and ruin yourself for all eternity?" His questions urge you to wrap your arms around him, to hide your face in the gentle embrace of a monster, as though you're trying to hide from judgement itself upon your immoral fantasies. "I wish for that, Sebastian."
No further words are needed, not when your lips convey more as they meet Sebastian's. A kiss so fierce, he may steal the air from your lungs and drag you to hell himself. Teeth pull at your bottom lip unapologetically, his tongue meeting with your own, entwining and parting until you taste him. Meanwhile, the familiar stretch of his fingers, accompanied by the filthy squelching of your arousal, threatens to overload your senses. The teasing returns as your lips part to allow Sebastian a front row seat to your desperate play, as his thumb presses into your clit. You really yearn for this orgasm, don't you? Of course, you do, with how tightly you clench around his digits, pulsing as though you're trying to keep him inside—as if he couldn't offer you a much better alternative.
"Let go, my dear, you look so beautiful right now, I want to see you come undone for me." Sebastian encourages, as his fingers expertly curl against your walls, each time pushing past the limits of what you're able to take, dragging against your gummy spot. So you let go, finally, allowing your eyes to shut as your fingers fist the fabric of his dress shirt. He's never received praise in a prayer-like form, the sighing thank-yous tumbling free between your moans, so unlike the feisty thing you pretend to be. You are adorable. "Very good, my darling, just like that." Sebastian whispers, as the movements slow down until his fingers still inside you, until the heaving of your chest and the trembling of your thighs calms, and you fall into his embrace.
But much to his surprise, despite his predictions about your exhaustion, you return his previous affections. Your lips kiss along his neck as you undo his necktie, fingertips already so eager to free him from the confines of his clothes, it makes Sebastian wonder who the real glutton between you two is. "My Lady," he innocently halts your advances as he entwines his fingers with your own, kissing each tip while holding eye contact. "Shouldn't we proceed to your chambers? I don't wish to bring needless discomfort upon you—you need your strength to handle me." At that, you feel his tongue drag along your pointer finger before a final kiss is placed on its tip, while a devious smile returns to Sebastian's lips. If only you wouldn't look so adorable each time he teases you. But you are already too far gone to keep up pretences, when you can instead allow someone else to finally be your resolve.
So it's only natural for you to command Sebastian once more. "Bring me to my bed," you mumble while your arms already lace around his neck. He follows, yet it catches you by surprise once you're simply dropped into your bouncy mattress and sea of pillows. However, there is no time to be surprised when, in the next moment, you find yourself caged underneath Sebastian. Your hands roam free to undo his dress shirt and shrug it off his figure, allowing your nails to drag over his pearly skin until you reach his pants and finally feel what lies hidden behind the dark fabrics.
You seem in control, until firm hands spread your thighs and Sebastian leans in, to nibble along your inner legs, shining in the moonlight as he dives between your thighs to lap at your cunt, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of your entrance before dragging all over your hot and puffy pussy. He then licks and kisses his way up your stomach, sternum, and nipples, while the surprising satisfaction of his cock—hot, hard, and leaking with pre-cum—coats itself with your juices. He grinds against your cunt until you writhe for more, until his hands find rest on the back of your knees so he can press your legs up against your sides, fully opening you to thrust into you without struggle, without restraint, as lust overcomes him.
You shake your head at the stretch of his shaft welcoming your pussy, sweet pleas mixed with whiny complaints escaping your lips. "‘S too much, Sebastian… can't…" you admit. You hear his chuckle before he sighs, kissing your cheek in adoration. "You will take me."
"Now just surrender to me, will you." His lips seek out your own once more as he picks up a relentless pace.
Your nails dig into his back, red streaks running deep. You can't look at anything but him—his strong body on top of yours, the visible strain to his muscles while he ruts into you—until you find yourself once more captivated by his eyes. He almost looks at you lovingly, not hungrily. But Sebastian doesn't just want to consume your soul; no, his desires reach beyond basic greed. He wants to own you, to keep you to himself, to reign over you. You can see it clearly while swimming in crimson. But with the delicious drag of his cock inside your walls, you might just let him. Who would have expected you to be tamed this well by getting fucked?
"Please, please, please," you exhale as your head lolls from side to side, writhing beneath your very own demon. Oh? You're quick to beg. Quick to turn desperate, so eager to have more of something that should never have been yours. "Sebastian, Sebastian," you repeat like a mantra as his hands hold your fragile body, digging into your hips to force you into a perfect arch for Sebastian to ravage your skin. He litters kisses over your chest, laps at your nipples, and drags your hips back down to snap against his while he is guided by gluttony.
"Give yourself to me," you demand with no trace of shame in your bones, finally giving him a task worthy of your beautiful soul. "Stay with me, be mine…"
You almost feel dizzy with how easily Sebastian hoists you until you're on all fours, arse perfectly exposed for him to fully sheath his cock inside you, effectively pushing your upper body into your sea of pillows. But in stark contrast to his rather harsh handling of your body, his lips return to press soft kisses along your back. "I am yours if you are mine, my darling." The words flow like honey before your blood coats Sebastian's tongue as he breaks the skin.
Your fingers dig into the cushions, searching for support as you struggle. But the strong arm lacing around your body is all the comfort you will need from now on; his cold touch will soon set you ablaze. Sebastian is deep inside you, the head of his cock finding your sweet spot almost naturally as he perfectly curves against your velvet walls, hips snapping against your arse cheeks with unforeseen fervour.
His hands dig into your hips, surely bruising your hip bones for the coming days, but it means no harm, as you've never felt this good before. Never so full, never as cared for as by the monster that is in love with your soul. You moan his name in delight, making Sebastian proud once you eagerly bounce back into his thrusts. His husky sounds of pleasure grow clearer as his movements slow. He pushes you further against the mattress, which ultimately causes your legs to spread wider and arch deeper, allowing his penetration to slowly steal your sanity.
Who would have thought the pressure of his palm against your stomach would make you clamp around him this much? Moaning, whimpering, pleading as you beg for mercy, trying to tell him it's too… "Too good, Sebastian, I'm—"
His movements are slow but precise, accentuating the way you desperately clamp around him in an attempt to hold him inside you for eternity.
"Yes, fall apart. Let go for me," Sebastian's eyes roam over your small body beneath him, a sweaty, shaking mess. He will take care of that right after you are done. For now, instead of worrying, his hands grab at your arse almost aggressively, spreading your lower lips even further as he ruts into you.
The high-pitched squeal that escapes your throat when he picks up his pace again serves as a perfect display of your misery. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes as your hips are pushed back to meet Sebastian's relentless thrusts. "Make me proud, little Lady..." is his final demand, with sneaky fingers returning to play with your clit as he hoists you off the bed, holding you tightly against his chest.
You're fully seated on his cock, entirely engulfed by his embrace and consumed by the same demon, just as you bask in the sweet release coursing through your veins. Sebastian allows himself to indulge in your pretty cries and the way your pussy practically drips from both of your orgasms. It fills him with more pride than any other circumstance ever could. True to his nature, he watches you like a devil on your shoulder; dark red eyes witnessing your fucked-out expression topped off with the cutest smile spreading on your soft lips.
His breath caresses your neck in a whisper, "Do you feel better now?" You hum and let your fingers card through his hair, a tired "I do. Thank you, Sebastian" exchanged from your mouth to his ear. Swiftly, Sebastian moves to carry you back to your spacious bathtub and lets it refill with warmth. "How about my Lady actually relaxes this time around?"
Why is it so hard for people to use the right tags? Yes, I get it, you want people to read the fic that you just wrote or something BUT it does NOT belong to the "x reader" category because, first of all, you put or gave the reader a name that could be yours or your OC's and that is already, in itself, NOT an "x reader" but an "x OC" or "x self-insert".
Yes, the fic you wrote is good, but please, PLEASE, understand that not everyone can ignore or mentally change the name you gave the "reader" and, even if they do manage in the beginning, it'll become very tiresome and/or they'll lose interest.
Also, if the fic is about two already existing characters of an anime, manga, movie, game, etc. Then put only "(character) x (character)" in the tags NOT "(character) x reader" when the character of interest is not even in a relationship with the reader or that the story is only about those two existing characters that YOU ship then that is NOT an "x reader" fic. If people want to read about them, then they'll search for it.
I've already stumbled upon way too MANY fics that had these, and I'm sorry, but it would always get on my nerves because when I'd open it, expecting (y/n), (your name), you or (name) to be there only to find that there's a name already used for the reader then end up closing the fic and scrolling past it with nothing but annoyance bubbling in me.
Another thing, if the fic is "(character) x reader" then IT'S THAT character, do NOT add a tag with a different character that is not EVEN IN the fic OR isn't a person of interest. If the fic contains MUPLTIPLE characters that will be with the reader, then THAT is fine.
I'm also going to say that other websites and platforms have the same problem.
It gets very tiring, annoying, and bothersome that we, the reader, have to ALWAYS change the name used for US in the fic when we want to use OUR or our OC's name. Even if I did manage to read through the fic, I'm certain that I have decided to not read or close a lot of them without even batting an eye because I didn't have the energy to do so or just didn't feel like it. Not everyone has the energy to do that.
Don't let me start with the looks that were already chosen for the reader, like, for example, them having blonde hair, but the ACTUAL reader has brown hair.
Look, they may be your comfort or favourite character, but they could be someone else's, too, and the fact that not many can't or don't write for many reasons just want to sit down, relax and read a fic about them "interacting" with their chosen character.
Hopefully, you all understand and do start using the right tags for your fics. As harsh as I may sound, many think the same way.
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.
