#wrathofmasquerade

[phantomhiveraven]

✍ooc;{boo~~Iza~~chan~~}

Send me a ✍ for what my muse has written about yours in their diary.

July,1889 – London, England   Ah young Master what ever should I do with you, that sweet tooth of yours can be quite a hassle sometimes.But I should not be the one to talk, am I not the same when it comes to you?   From our first meeting till now, I never had wished to take a bite and sink my teeth deep into your skin.How would you taste, what flavor would be the strongest once the crimson vine fills my mouth….ah…only thinking about that makes my mouth water.I wonder if your teasing lately thou, should tell me something…or I perhaps might wish so to? Nothing will come from waiting , and I thirst once again for your closeness…our verbal confrontation  keep the days busy and my mind in pleasure.Oh my, seems like I indeed as well have a sweet tooth like you.

[phantomhiveraven]

  "Tea." slender fingertips curled towards the milky palms when the beautiful sapphire eye gazed at the stars outside."My tea got cold, refresh it."a monochrome voice; metallic taste. In truth though I wanted a welcomed presence…

{♞} And he knew it, the always little bratty Earl that took the demon for granted , as well the other servants."My Lord, next time just ring the bell if you would be so kind."Taking the cup away he took one last glance at the teen before speaking up"Would you perhaps prefer some warm milk with honey rather, after I prepare you for sleep?"

[phantomhiveraven]

wrath-of-masquerade replied to your post: wrath-of-masquerade asked:✿ ...

ooc; {whoah~~I missed your writing; I love you, why you so perfect, hm, hm, hm, ; ; <3}

//awwww babyyyy ;A; <33333333 I am not perfect in no way hun *hugs you tight* but I am really happy that you like my way of writing u///uluvsu!

[faustianspider-blog]

Waiting,               waiting,                            waiting.--- A human would have descended the steep slope into insanity, started clawing the walls, yelling at the top of their lungs. They would not have survived. Their lives would have been snuffed out, obliterated by pain and anguish.

The unyielding hunger had started as a burn, a flame, before it had ignited into an explosion of craving that reached the very tips of his extremities. Claude had not returned to the Trancy Estate, had not made excuses for his absence. That did not matter now, it was all inconsequential nonsense. Alois Trancy was merely a speck of dust, an insect, something to be trodden underfoot. He would not be missed, no, not now Claude had tasted paradise. Upon the first blush of morning, the devil's patience had worn thin. Slipping from the shadows, he had at last made his move. The slender, fragile limbs of his human body felt sluggish, burdensome. He had been intoxicated by a soul so delicious that nothing else could compare. Within moments -- and a few slight creaks of the floorboards -- the demon was by the child's bed. Amber orbs traced the features of the form swathed in cotton sheets. Ciel looked so peaceful, calm, perfect. Unable to resist, a white gloved hand bridged the gap, sliding gently down porcelain skin. Knuckles brushed eyelashes, fingertips explored the curve of a cheek. Claude was enthralled, beguiled, enamored.

[the-midford-son]

wrath-of-masquerade said: "I didn’t know you were such a coward, Edward. Will you regret your actions?"

Edward sat up in the bed, covering his bare chest with a sheet. His cheeks were red and he looked away from Ciel. "I'm not a coward I'm just worried... If someone were to find out about this you know what would happen.. But as to if I regret this, as much as my mind is screaming that I should I must say the true. I do not regret what we did here."