#(sebastian's hand. but. semantics.)

[ghastigiggles]

I just played some rounds of pressure with @/yallmakemyassitch and heard Painter giggle for the first time

Anyway that computer dies tonight. Hi pressure followers I'm coming back home

[bigassmoth]

Sebastian Michaelis x Reader: The young Lord's butler and your one-time fling keeps trying to become your lover

Contains: workplace harassment, pining, manipulation, not any direct smut but lots of allusions to sex

"You are always so intent on teasing me, my dear. Yet in bed you always protest..." He whispered in your ear, hand rubbing at the side of your hip. You shifted when his lithe fingers began to travel towards your ass in an effort to grab a handful. This had not been his first attempt to rekindle the passionate night you had a few weeks ago. The delusional butler was persistent, finding any and all opportunity to flirt with you and dismiss your claims about "a one-time lapse in professionalism".

"I am NOT teasing you, or seducing you, Mr. Michaelis. Please, just let me grab my books in peace." You needed a book on maritime regulation but it was on a high shelf and you dare not reach for it in his presence.

"Oh? Are you sure? Why else would you meet me in an empty library if not to seek my embrace?" Sebastian leans against the bookshelf, choosing to loom over you now that groping your hips was no longer an option.

"I didn't meet you anywhere, I came to get- you know what? I don't have to justify myself. Aren't you busy?" You cut yourself off, knowing how easy it is to get into the weeds with the butler when he decides to trip you up with semantics.

He clicks his tongue, a look of resignation and annoyance settling on his beautiful features for a second. "I imagine I will be soon, knowing how the residents of this house conduct themselves."

You cannot help but be amused at his quick change in persona- this was the Michaelis you were most familiar with. The dry, exhausted butler who invites himself into your office to complain. He notices your wry smile and lightly pouts.

"You delight in my suffering." This draws a laugh from you.

"I delight in your wonderful work ethic. Speaking of, grab me the book with the blue binding." You tap at the bottom of the wood shelf as an indicator. He sighs dramatically, making you stifle your giggles, and pulls the book from the shelf for you.

"Ah...an interesting title." He is looking at the cover, despite his words he doesn't seem the least bit intrigued. When you go to pluck the book from his hands- he predictably pulls it out of your reach. "Hmm, what a fascinating read..."

"I know you can perform better than that, Mr. Michaelis."

"May I borrow this first? I promise I will return it to you posthaste. In fact, I believe I could finish it just before the evening. I will bring it to your room to save you the trouble." He adopts his usual suave facade, his voice seductive. He is close to you again, and enjoying the heat of irritation that comes from your body. The opposite of love is apathy, sure he would prefer you to look at him with adoration and affection-- but your ire and scrutinization also sends a pleasurable lick up his spine. The book out of your reach, he wishes you would so cutely stand on your tippy-toes and lean against him to grab it. To have you press your chest against his, where your heart patters away. Maybe you would even have to allow his pelvis to touch your body. Would it remind you of your night together? Would you blush as you try to ignore the memories of his length sliding against your slit? If he was lucky, your thighs would tense with restraint as they instinctively try to recreate the motion of you riding against the underside of his dick (at his behest, of course). He wanted to see it again- the swivel of your hips against his flesh with passion and precision as you chased after the relief found in his body.

You elbow him sharply in the gut- and he doesn't so much as flinch. He holds in a groan, not in pain but because he is trying to keep himself from falling into a pit of disappointment. Obviously, you had charmed him thoroughly if he allowed himself to get caught up in his fantasies. The butler was stifling his own bemusement, partially at his own human-like behavior but mostly because you were trying to mask an expression of annoyance and confusion. You file this away in the Things That Are Unnatural About Ciel Phantomhive's Butler folder inside your brain.

"Oh my, were you doing something down there?" Sebastian looked down at your (now sore) elbow with far too much amusement. You resisted the urge to see if the sharp butt of your heel could damage his body where your elbow could not.

"The library is not a school playground, Mr. Michaelis. If you wish to bully someone, I would petition you to find another." Your tone is clipped with frustration. Normally you would have turned around and returned to your desk but this book was unfortunately the cornerstone of your afternoons work.

"I do believe someone was here throwing elbows but a minute ago..." Sebastian is smiling. You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Mr. Mi-"

"A kiss." You don't even have to ask him what he means because the expectant look on his face says it all. There is an imploring twinkle in his eye that compels you to bed the knee, a feeling you occasionally receive around the butler. Unbidden and out of character for you, to want to put your head in his hands and curve your body against his. Two halves of you fight, one says that the butler would care for you deeply and love you tenderly. You should kiss him gratefully, you should beg at the alter of his body and serve his every whim because the pleasure he repays you in will be worthwhile. Life would be comfortable and easy in his palms, shaped to his desire. The other half says that the butler is a mirage, a poisonous gas that only decays you from the inside out the more you breathe. You should run and hide and pray that he is too preoccupied to seek you out. In his grasp you would be no better than a caged animal beholden to his amusement. One half implores to kiss him and beg him to fuck you hard and fast against your desk, discard your work and commit yourself to the worship of his body. One half urgently whispers to run- pack only the essential and abandon your life entirely in the interest of survival.

Both halves are wrong, your brain reigns supreme.

"May I be frank for a moment, Mr. Michaelis?" You turn and walk away but signal him to follow you. He does so with natural grace, falling into step behind you as cleanly as a shadow would.

"Of course, my dear." His smooth voice seems to glide over your very bones. You ignore the feeling, set your books down on your desk, and sit in your chair with a heavy sigh.

"I have misled you. It was wrong of me to approach you because I didn't make my intentions clear. I have no interest in romance, I sought you out to use you as relief for my own..." you struggled to find the words. Sebastian set the maritime book ontop of your stack and knelt before you. This action made it even more difficult for you to continue.

He looked up at you with a rare look of tenderness and called out your name softly, "I am quite taken with you." For whatever reason that sentence made you melt more than anything else he had done. Likely because you were now swimming in guilt.

"Yes b-"

"Please, would you allow me the opportunity to please you again? To prove myself worthy?" His voice dripped with sincerity, he grabbed one of your hands in his and looked at you with eyes that looked near tears.

"What I'm trying to say i-"

"I have never had someone so...kind, in bed. As you know I occasionally use my..." He sighs and lowers his head in shame, "Use my body to gather information necessary for my Lord's missions." That stabbing guilt is hitting again.

"I'm so-"

"But you were different. I...got to choose you. Perhaps this is why I am so insistent, I thought you had chosen me as well."

"I mean- I did choose you, it wasn't random. There was no one else I wanted to sleep with-"

"I am the same, my dear." He was now looking at you with shining eyes, he clutched your hand to his chest. You could swear you saw sparkles in the air, "I'm glad we agree. I was worried you hated me, that I had failed you in bed."

"You absolutely did not fail me in bed Mr. Michaelis."

"Wonderful, than I leave you with this."

He pulls your hand from his chest to his face and cradles your palm against his cheek. A look of peace crosses his face, and something else. Something possessive, smug, reassured, confident, dangerous. The pleasure he derived from the simple actions set you on edge but it was also undeniably charming. He pressed a soft and long kiss to the inside of your wrist.

You open your mouth to protest again but this time nothing comes out. The sight of him kissing you in reverence, kneeling on the ground and nearly hovering over your lap, his eyes closed as if in prayer, has you feeling defeated.

After a tense minute, he pulls away and stands up- still looking immaculate.

"Now then, I'm glad you spoke with me. It would have greatly disturbed my peace if we hadn't cleared up this misunderstanding. I will leave you to your work, call for me if you are in need of anything. I will fetch it posthaste." He is beaming, you think the only other times you have seen him so happy are when Ciel has been fuming or a crowd of people is cheering for him.

"...Alright, fine. Thank you, Mr. Michaelis." You sigh and shake your hands, hoping to rub off the feeling of heat on your skin where he kissed you. It doesn't work. He leaves the room with an elegant bow and you turn to your books and paper.

The feeling of his lips doesn't leave your wrist for the next few days and you find yourself using this hand to touch yourself at night. It feels more pleasurable than ever, like a phantom touch is against your skin as you lose yourself to sexual relief.

[mamawasatesttube]

For the fic prompts: 52) “I Wouldn’t Change A Thing About You” with the Souperfam? Thinking about them again (<- Guy who’s always thinking about them)

👉🏾🥺👈🏾

“—in the originals, there were actually five different guys playing Darth Vader! They had the main guy who played him in the full suit, David Prowse, and then his stunt double for a lotta the fight scenes, Bob Anderson, but then his voice was James Earl Jones, obvie. But James didn’t do the breathing! That was another dude named Ben Burtt.”

Across the table, Kon pauses to suck at his milkshake. Kara swings her legs back and forth before hooking her heels back onto the bar on her barstool, humming. He was right; this place has really good fries. And the burgers are solid, too.

“That’s only four guys, though,” she says, counting them off on her salty fingers. “David, Bob, James, and Ben.”

“Yeah! I’m getting there.” Kon grins. He dips one of his fries into the pink swirl of his milkshake (strawberry, because he says he likes everything fruity). Kara wrinkles her nose. That still seems weird to her. But Kon pops it into his mouth, chews, swallows, and continues: “The last guy is Sebastian Shaw. Who was only Vader in two scenes! Although technically you could argue he was never Vader and was only Anakin, if the semantics of that mean anything to you.”

Kara has seen these movies a grand total of once. Very recently. As in, Kon got her to agree to watch all of them this weekend. As in, they finished watching Return of the Jedi about ten minutes before they came here for a late lunch.

“They do not,” she assures.

To her surprise, though, Kon deflates a little. “Oh.” He drops his gaze to the fries left in his basket, then looks up again with a grin that doesn’t seem quite as genuine. “Right, yeah, I’ve been rambling for a while, haven’t I? It’s probably gotta get boring to anyone who doesn’t have these movies literally uploaded into their brain.”

He laughs, but Kara doesn’t join in. She frowns. “I wasn’t telling you to stop,” she objects, and lightly kicks him under the table to accent it. “I was just saying the semantics don’t mean anything to me!” Another kick.

“Stop kicking me,” he pouts, so naturally, she kicks him again. “Linda!”

This time, when her foot connects with his jeans, it freezes in place. Kara gasps, then glares at him. She could probably pull free of his telekinetic grip, but that’d definitely take superstrength, and this diner might not look too kindly on a potential hole in the ceiling. “Let go!”

“Only if you stop kicking me!”

“Then stop pouting and keep telling me movie trivia!”

“You don’t have to say that if you’re getting bored!” Kon huffs. His glasses do nothing to hide the flush on his cheeks. “I know I get rambly sometimes. Blame Cadmus, they’re the ones who made me so good at being annoying.”

He grins again, but Kara’s not buying it. He’s not very slick about hiding that this is an insecurity, is he? He probably thinks he’s being slick. He’s not. It’s endearing.

“I don’t think you’re annoying,” she says honestly. “I like that you get enthusiastic about stuff. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

And then, because that’s embarrassingly earnest to say to her cousin while they’re in public, she has to follow it up properly, before she starts blushing too. Lightning-quick, she swipes a finger through his milkshake and dabs a dollop onto the tip of his nose. Ha!

Kon squawks. “Linda!” he protests, face even redder. He scrubs his hand over his nose, then licks the melting milkshake from his palm. “Jeez!”

Kara grins at him. “Your move, Conner.” As a concession, she dips one of her fries into her milkshake (simple and plain vanilla), then pops it into her mouth.

Kon huffs at her and makes a big show of rolling his eyes and scrubbing his face with a napkin. “Uncivilized,” he sniffs. But the telltale soft look in his eyes tells her she’s won, even before he opens his mouth. “Anywhoozies. So after the release of the prequel trilogy, George Lucas decided they needed to do some continuity edits on the originals, and there was a rerelease, and…”

[onboardsorasora]

sleepwalker, don't be shy pt2

I couldn't let them go, I needed more. So here is a sequel? more? part 2? of the Dewis Sleepwalker fic. @australiansteel this is for you 🩷🩷

Daniel wished he would disappear. Plain and simple. He wished an earthquake would hit just his room of the house they rented and a sinkhole would open up right under his feet and transport him to the depths of the Earth's core.

He threw his open duffle on the bed, and glimpsed the travel white noise machine that sat innocently tangled with his tshirts and not actually plugged into the wall like it should have been. He glared at it as if it personally wronged him. 

Maybe it had. If it had done its job– he was willfully ignoring the fact that he failed to do his job and use it. Semantics! If it had done its job, he wouldn't have just embarrassed himself in front of Lewis. Things wouldn't be awkward now.

His oh so graceful exit didn't help matters but there was nothing he could do. He should probably go before things get any worse. Seb and Lewis could have a relaxing week without him.

He dragged on his hoodie, a bright red one that Lewis had complimented him on and Seb had teased him about (‘everyone's a Ferrari fan Danny’). And then he shucked his sleep pants down his legs. Daniel grabbed his jeans, stepping one leg through when his door opened.

Lewis walked in, shutting the door behind him. Daniel looked up in surprise, almost tripping over himself with his other leg halfway through the heavy fabric.

“I guess you weren't joking about the show.” 

Daniel pulled his jeans up to cover his purple patterned boxers.

“Uh– sorry about that–” Daniel scrambled.

“No– I should have knocked. I'm sorry.”

Daniel clenched his hands together in the pouch of his hoodie. As if bracing himself for the worst.

Lewis looked around the room, the open duffle on the bed, “are you leaving?” 

“I…yeah. It's probably like for the best.” Daniel exhaled loudly. Lewis' eyes shuttered.

“Fuck– did I make you feel uncomfortable Dan” Lewis sagged against the door, that was the last thing he wanted. He figured if he didn't make a big deal about it, then maybe Daniel would be comfortable to talk about it.

Max had texted him but he hadn't anticipated actually needing to use his advice. Seb was the room across from him, surely Daniel would have simply gone there. So when his door had opened and Daniel just… stood there, Lewis had realized quickly what was happening.

He'd calmly brought Daniel in the room, soothingly suggesting that he lay down. Lewis learned a lot about Daniel last night, that he was a snuggler, and that he snored– with that big a nose it almost seemed par for the course. Daniel had cuddled into him almost immediately, pressing his nose into Lewis’ neck as if branding himself with Lewis’ tattoo. Lewis had almost been expecting to see ‘God is Love’ marked into Daniel's skin.

Lewis couldn't say he had been put out with the development. He had enjoyed the feeling of Daniel in his arms, the comforting weight of him on his chest. It was more than he ever thought he could get with Daniel. More than he let himself believe was possible.

Daniel was an enigma; he was open, charismatic and inspiring. In the same way Lewis himself was. On paper, they were they same person– with a few obvious differences. But it took a while for them to actually become friends. Lewis would admit partial blame for that– being too caught up with Nico to really notice anything else around him.

And by the time he took his head out of his ass to pay attention, Daniel was less of himself than anyone realized. It was because of Seb. Sebastian was the reason they were able to get close, tagging Lewis along when he was on his missions to pull Daniel's back to himself. To help him forget about his work troubles for a while.

It was while he was stripped to the barest of himself that Lewis recognized himself within Daniel. His soul in a different body. A kindred spirit, a twin flame.

And last night was the first time Lewis thought that maybe more was in reach. But, clearly that wasn't the case. Clearly Daniel didn't see it the same as he did.

Daniel's eyes widened, he made an aborted movement to step forward, step closer. He pinched the skin on the base of his thumb to anchor him down.

“No. That's not what happened.” Daniel sighed again, the kind that normally came before bad news. Lewis braced himself. “Look Lew, I'm sorry I came to your room– I shouldn't have. I couldn't control it but that's not an excuse.” He rubbed his eyebrows and continued to ramble. 

“I know I made you uncomfortable. Just barrelling into your room like the fuckin Koolaid man on Ambien. I just– I just don't wanna like ruin the rest of your vacation with my embarrassing sleeping habits. I'm just gonna like go home so I don't like accost you in the night anymore like a weird squid–”

“I liked that you accosted me.” Lewis cut him off and Daniel's mouth snapped shut with a click as his teeth came together. He stared at Lewis’ perfect face as he replayed what he said over and over as if on a cassette loop. 

“I'm sorry?” Daniel blinked uncomprehendingly. Lewis just spoke German to him or something. That was the only explanation.

“Which part?” Lewis asked rhetorically. He stepped forward, closing the space between them. “I liked when you came to my room. I liked when you slept in my bed. I liked when you slept on me.”

Daniel knew he was gaping like a caught fish. There was no other word for it. His brain shut down, it was officially old technology. Because this did not compute. Lewis was smiling at him though, his full lips drawn up into a gap toothed grin. 

Lewis was stepping closer, Daniel couldn't move. 

“Lew.” Daniel breathed and Lewis silenced him with a hand cupping his jaw, a thumb swiping his stubble.

“I take it, you were embarrassed because you thought you scared me away?” Lewis was always proud of his ability to read people and situations. His lips quirked up at the side when Daniel nodded slowly, his widened eyes never left Lewis'. He felt arrested in his gaze.

“Daniel, I think we're both being silly. May I kiss you?” Lewis leaned further into Daniel's personal space and Daniel shuddered an inhale. Daniel nodded and Lewis kissed him.

Daniel knew he had died, that the sinkhole he had been praying for swallowed him up. There was no other explanation than he had died and gone to heaven. Lewis was kissing him. 

His lips felt amazing and Daniel hoped this wasn't another vivid dream. He felt out of his body. There was cotton between his ears– static. None of the synapses in his brain were firing. The mitochondria was not the powerhouse of the cell.

He was dead and this was heaven.

Lewis pulled back and Daniel whined a bit, chasing his lips before his eyes fluttered open. Lewis was grinning openly and Daniel couldn't find it in himself to blush. Not when Lewis' lips were swollen and even lovelier from kissing him.

“When you say you liked me sleeping in your room…does that also mean that you like.. Me.. full stop?” Daniel whispered. He hated asking, his chest clenched when he did. But he could be brave to find out the answer. Lewis just kissed him, he felt good about his odds.

“Yes you idiot, I like you.” Lewis giggled and rolled his eyes. “I may even love you. In all your sleepwalking terror– I meant glory.” he chuckled at Daniel's pout and leaned in to kiss him again. He couldn't help himself now that he broke the seal. Daniel kissed him back with equal fervor, moaning into his mouth.

The door opened and they barely let go of each other to see Sebastian walk in with a plate of food and a cup of tea. “Danny, you did bring your white noise– oh. Well hello.” Seb leaned against the door and took in the scene the way one did when they reached a particularly good chapter in a book.

Daniel snorted and Lewis chucked. Their friend was such a gossip queen. They could practically see his hands rubbing together in glee.

“Yeah I brought it.” Daniel answered his original question.

“We can talk later. I expect details.” He made pointed eye contact with the two of them before leaving the room. The pair immediately burst into giggles, leaning on each other.

“I love you too by the way,” Daniel whispered when they were able to compose themselves. Lewis' grin was blinding and Daniel quite enjoyed staring into the sun. 

“What happens now?”Daniel asked after a while, thumb swiping over the geometric lines on the back of Lewis' wrist.

“Well, now… you sleep in my room tonight with your white noise machine and I'll watch over you while you sleep. You came to me for comfort, I'll continue to be a comfort for my boyfriend.” Lewis shrugged and Daniel brought his hand to his mouth and kissed the middle of Lewis' palm.

“Ok. That sounds good to me.”

[daisyishedwig]

6, 18, and 20 for the fanfic writer asks

I'm pretty sure you sent this a few days ago, but I completely missed it. Sorry for the delay!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? My most commonly reread fic is Little Yellow Tags by Lurkdusoleil, it's been one of my main comfort fics for many years. Go Your Own Way by Zavocado and Sebastian's Bitch by Lilinas are also pretty high on the reread count.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic? I've a couple.

From Still Look Like Mine: She handed him a glass that was far more tequila than sunrise but Blaine could barely taste the alcohol anymore

From a fic I can't say because it's spoilers: “Hey,” Kurt scolded, “don’t do that. Don’t minimize yourself here. I wouldn’t just be losing him, I’d be losing you too.”

And From Most Things In Between: I’ll definitely be capable of such a normal life after six months surrounded by boys whose biggest problem is that they stole Daddy’s Lamborghini and took it for a joy ride!” “Actually it was Mommy’s Porsche, but that’s just semantics.”

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? I really like say your name while our tongues are tied. Also he'll see I'm not so tough, I just really like the twist on the original lyrics, I think it's fun.

[anto-pops]

Hushed Whispers - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: After working Sebastian into a frenzy before class, he refuses to acquiesce to your half-measures and steals you away to finish what you started.

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian having frantic, semi-public sex in an empty classroom.

Based on a request I received for “impatient broom cupboard shenanigans” except they aren’t in a broom cupboard, but SEMANTICS.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex

Full fic can be found here on Ao3!

You should have known you were playing with fire the second you rolled out of bed this morning. 

It had all started with a few light touches to motivate Sebastian into waking up. Nowadays he was all too content to tug the covers over his head and sleep through whatever class he was supposed to attend, so you’d taken the liberty of… enticing him, into turning his brain on. 

With your hands. On his cock. 

Maybe it was a little cruel in hindsight, but you hadn’t counted on Ominis drawing the curtains around the bed at the same time Sebastian was really getting into the feeling of you stroking him. Blue balled and embarrassed, you’d walked to breakfast with the two Slytherins in a tense silence. Sebastian was rigid, his lips pressed in a hard line as he doubled his efforts not to shift his hips too much while he walked, lest he come in his trousers from the friction. 

Now seated inside the Great Hall, Sebastian looked deep in thought before he asked, “Do you think Professor Weasley will let me retake the exam tomorrow if I skip today?” The fork in his ironclad grip seemed to be on the verge of bending in half. 

Ominis scowled at his plate, having expected him to say something like this. He had known exactly where Sebastian’s one-track mind would steer him after interrupting you both this morning. “Not without cause, and your boner isn’t a valid enough reason to miss an exam day.” 

There was no helping it– you snorted into your hot chocolate. Ominis continued to dissect his food in favor of entertaining his friend’s lust-fueled thoughts, and as you brought the rim of your cup to your lips, your eyes connected with Sebastian’s dark, suggestive gaze. 

Merlin’s beard. You shouldn’t have laughed. 

“We’ll meet you in class, Ominis.” Sebastian declared, smacking his fork down on the table and hauling you to your feet by the fabric of your robes. 

You hastily set down your drink before it could slosh all over the table. “We? Wait, what–” 

“Are you serious?” Ominis groused, and his brows slammed down atop those narrowed, milky blue eyes. “I am not covering for you this time. You can take the detention you’ll get in stride.” 

“Don’t bother, we’ll be there.” With that the brunet spun on his heel, dragging you with him as he strode out of the Great Hall and led you down a deserted corridor near the Courtyard. You were barely walking, completely at Sebastian’s mercy as he practically carried you by the scruff of your clothes to wherever he wanted to take you. Your feet caught on a few loose stones on the way, but your boyfriend simply tugged you upright before you had the chance to stumble. 

“Sebastian– wait, what the hell are you thinking?” 

He abruptly dipped to the right, pulling you into an empty classroom and throwing you against the wall as the door clicked shut beside you. “I’m thinking you should finish what you started this morning, darling.”

Before you could respond, Sebastian had captured your lips in a brutal kiss, biting and licking with an intensity that left you dizzy in his strong arms. You melted as he fucked his tongue into your mouth, clinging tighter to his shoulders as he brought one of his hands up to begin undoing the buttons on your blouse. The other delved lower, tracing up the burning skin of your leg and bunching the material of your skirt into a heap below your navel. When his fingers slipped under the cotton of your underwear, he swiped a digit through your wet folds, and you gasped into his mouth, garnering a chuckle from him. 

He teased around the bundle of nerves you were both desperate and loathing for him to touch. There wasn’t a lot of time before the two of you needed to be in your seats with your quills and parchment out, ready to take your Transfiguration exam. Sebastian might not care about his attendance, but you didn’t want to go out of your way to invoke the wrath of Professor Weasley. 

As though he could read your thoughts, Sebastian broke away from the kiss to mouth wetly down the column of your neck. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he bit at your pulse gently, making you sigh and tip your head back against the wall. “I’ll be so good to you, but if I don’t have you now I’ll fail that fucking exam regardless of whether or not I’m there for it.” 

“F-Fuck, Sebastian,” you whispered into the empty air, and he rewarded you by roughly pressing circles around your clit, pinning you more firmly between his body and the wall so he could focus solely on shattering your composure. “We could be back at the dorms in like, two minutes.” 

He pulled away from your love-bitten neck to stare at you fixedly with those lust-dark eyes, “Or we could be fucking in two minutes.”

Touché. 

You finally relented, throwing caution to the wind as you wound your arms around Sebastian’s neck and crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. To hell with it, you thought. You’d been just as disappointed leaving things the way you did this morning, even if seeing Sebastian so worked up was an added bonus to the whole thing. He met you halfway, leaning into you further to completely overwhelm your senses until all you could taste, hear, smell, and feel was him. Sebastian’s fingers resumed their ministrations against your core, drawing small twitches and breathy moans from you as he reduced you to a mewling pile of limbs. The steady roll of his groin against your thigh had you eagerly writhing back on his hand, hungry for more than just his teasing touch. 

When Sebastian finally thrust a slender finger inside of you, he practically lifted you onto your toes with the vigor he exhibited. The feeling had you groaning into his mouth, your nails digging painfully into the bare skin of his neck, and the sting had his cock twitching enthusiastically in his pants. 

“Hah,” he chuckled down at you, secretly losing his fucking mind at how perfect you looked trapped between his flushed chest and the wall. Your eyes were pinched shut with obvious desire as he stroked inside your pulsing heat with his finger, and when he went to add a second, you couldn’t help but shamelessly buck against him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re enjoying this a bit more than you let on.” 

He felt your nails scrape up the nape of his neck before you grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head forcefully to the side, and he swore your penetrating gaze bore into his very soul. “You started it.” 

All of his brain functions ceased when he felt you bite down on his pulse, working an angry bruise of your own into his freckled skin with a fervor that nearly had him coming in his trousers then and there. “Fuck, darling–” 

“Hurry up and fuck me already,” you kissed at the blossoming hicky once, twice, then began trailing one of your hands down to the leather of Sebastian’s belt. Your fingers had barely grazed the metal buckle before he was ripping his fingers out of your cunt to grip you by your hips, lifting you up easily so he could carry you to a desk a few feet away. 

In an instant Sebastian deposited you there and spun you around, aggressively yanking your skirt and undergarments down to your knees in one quick motion. As soon as you were exposed to him, he was pushing your chest into the cool wood, trusting you to lay still for him as he hastily undid his belt and shucked the material down some to free his painfully hard cock. Peering at him over your shoulder, you watched hungrily as Sebastian’s swollen member sprung free from his trousers, and you licked your lips when your eyes caught sight of the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head. 

Sebastian leaned over you then, his delicious weight sandwiching you against the desk, and he took a brief moment to relish in the feeling of his cock rubbing between the shapely curve of your ass. A small, needy sound slipped from your clenched teeth at the sensation, and Sebastian’s fingers wound their way in your hair to jerk your head back to meet him. At the same time he pulled your head towards him, he slammed his hips forward, sheathing himself in you so fast and so abruptly that your spine rounded and you were pressing back against him with everything in you. 

“Fuck– mmph–” His other hand flew up to your mouth, muffling your cries of delight as he set a brutal pace. 

“You have to be quiet,” Sebastian growled the demand in your ear, and the gravelly tone to his voice made you whimper. “Or are you trying to get us caught, hm? Do you want everyone outside to hear you begging for my cock, screaming my name for more?” 

He punctuated the question with a particularly forceful thrust, and the action had you jolting against the desk, the pain in your hip bones quickly blurring into tingling pleasure. Unable to form words around his hand, you could only moan feebly in response. Your nails dug fitfully into the wood under you as you rutted back with the slightest give you were allowed, desperate for more friction– more of anything.

Sebastian released his hold on your hair to rub firm, titillating circles against your clit, and the sudden attention left you breathless for all of two seconds before you wailed his name from behind his hand, the muffled sound doing more for Sebastian than he cared to admit. He knew you couldn’t keep quiet if you tried. Even if he hadn’t been chasing the sounds out of you, your voice never failed to make an appearance when his cock was making quick work of you. 

He gave up on muffling your voice then, letting his hand trail down your throat to grip you and pull you back on to his cock with precision that left your legs boneless. Sebastian felt you sag underneath him, your pulsing walls warning him of your impending climax. “You want more, darling?” 

Sebastian ground hard into you when you opened your mouth, drawing a high pitched whine from your kiss-swollen lips instead of your shaky confirmation that yes– you wanted more– but he already knew that, and he gave you a few quick, rough thrusts to appease the growing fire in your gut. 

“Sebastian, fuck–” you gasped, clawing helplessly at the hard surface beneath you. “Please, please, like that like that–” 

He grinned into the crook of your shoulder. Just a moment longer– your frantic little noises were igniting a storm in his veins. “Like this?” He rolled his hips slowly into you, his thrusts deep but so far from enough. You couldn’t fight your disappointed sigh as you shook your head, craning your neck to the side to peer at him through the corner of your eye. “Or like this,” Sebastian whispered, pulling out nearly all the way before ramming his cock into you once, twice, and then he was seeing stars from how suddenly you tightened around him. 

“Yes! Oh fuck– please, yes–” Throwing your head back against Sebastian’s shoulder, you arched impossibly further into his hold, letting him drag your body back onto his shaft however he pleased because fuck– you didn’t even need to say anything. He was fucking you so rough and so perfect, it took everything in you not to scream his name loud enough to alert the entire school to your escapades, but even if you did, you doubted you would give a shit at this point. 

When you came, you did so with a hoarse cry of Sebastian’s name, and the feeling of his fingers digging harder into your throat to pull you back onto his cock mercilessly brought you higher than you thought possible. Sebastian continued to rub small, overstimulating circles over your clit as you crumbled apart, causing you to shake and writhe under him. With every faltering thrust, he ground his balls against your ass, stealing his pleasure from you desperately, and when he finally followed after you into white bliss, Sebastian swore the ground fell out from under his feet.

With one final grunt, Sebastian collapsed against your back, mindlessly rutting into you to milk the last bits of cum from his softening cock. He sighed, thoroughly pleased with himself now that his baser urges had been satiated. The tips of his fingers traced small, soothing circles along the skin of your thigh, and you shuddered at the feeling. 

He honestly wasn’t ready to pull out yet, but he knew some part of your recovering brain had to be uncomfortable wedged against the desk. “Sweet Merlin, Darling,” he managed to utter before pushing himself onto his elbows and letting his cock slide out of your familiar warmth. “You alright?” 

“I can’t feel my legs,” you groused, voice slightly muffled since your cheek was pressed against the wood. Sebastian laughed softly and looped his warm hands around your shoulders, standing you upright so he could pull your underwear and skirt back up for you. As he stood to fix his own trousers, the two of you finally got to take a good look at one another, and you both went slack-jawed at the sight. 

Sebastian had a telling, red hickey right above the collar of his shirt. It was too far above his neckline to stand a chance at being hidden, and even if it could have been concealed, vicious welts left from your nails stretched up the expanse of his neck, disappearing into his hair. It looked like one of the cats had gotten ahold of him and emerged victorious. 

In turn, you looked absolutely wrecked. Sebastian considered dimly that he might have gone overboard with assaulting your neck throughout the entire ordeal; between the assortment of love-bites that now lined your throat and the finger shaped bruises that curled under your jaw, he imagined your only saving grace from prying eyes would be a giant scarf. 

Unfortunately, there was no time to run to your dorms to grab extra clothing. The bell tolled then, signaling the start of the school day, and you realized with thinly veiled horror that you only had five minutes to get to Transfiguration. 

“Shit, we have to go,” you leapt off the desk in a flash and nearly collapsed to the floor from how jelly-like your legs were. “Fuck!” 

Sebastian was there steadying you in a heartbeat, his chest swelling with barely contained pride. He’d fucked you so hard you couldn’t even walk properly… he was so going to pass that exam now. “Need a hand?” 

You fixed him with a pointed glare as you hurried to adjust your robes, “Those hands have done more than enough, thank you very much. Besides, you should be worried about yourself– that hickey isn’t going to hide itself.” 

Sebastian mirrored your actions, fixing his trousers and smoothing away any wrinkles in his uniform. Then he smirked, “Why would I want to hide it? I love wearing your brand on me. It’s hotter than hell– so’s that constellation of bruises you’ve got going on.” 

“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, but the words were devoid of any genuine frustration. Mostly, you just wanted to make it to class on time. Combing through the final tangles in your hair, you took Sebastian’s hand in your own, tugging him towards the door. “Come on, if we run we can make it in time.” 

“Can you even run? It didn’t look like your legs were working ten seconds ago.” 

“Merlin’s bloody balls, Sebastian, I will withhold sex from you for a month if we miss this exam.”

The two of you made record time, with Sebastian borderline carrying you to Professor Weasley’s class in a similar fashion to the way he hauled you from the Great Hall earlier. When you both slumped in your seats beside Ominis, he acknowledged the two of you with a grunt. Your eyes scanned the classroom in a bid to make sure that you truly had arrived before your Professor, and when you spotted Imelda and Garreth across the room, your stomach sank. 

The Slytherin Quidditch Captain was snickering demonically behind her sleeve, whispering something to Garreth, whose face turned an impressive shade of red once his eyes flickered to your neck. He gave you a bashful wave when he saw you staring. 

Imelda spun in her seat to grab Natty’s attention next, and before you knew it, you watched as Imelda pointed at her own neck, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. Natty’s gaze found yours in an instant, and her expression transformed into something coy and knowing. She grinned boldly at you, giving you a thumbs up that Sebastian caught sight of, much to your dismay. 

He chuckled next to you, unashamed at the attention, and poked at one of the many marks that now lined the column of your neck. You shivered at the touch, well aware of the painstaking day that now lay ahead of you. Scarf or no scarf, your friends’ knowing stares would haunt you for the foreseeable future. 

As your head tipped forward and thunked against the table, you found yourself honestly wondering if detention would have been preferable to this unique form of torment.

[sleepingdeath-light]

innocence ; 18+

requested by ; nobody (sweet seduction rewrite)

word count ; 1871

content ; loss of virginity, praise

fandom ; black butler

pairing ; finnian x female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

It was hard to believe that you'd been working at the Phantomhive estate for a year now — well, a year tomorrow but it was basically the same thing so you didn't much bother about the semantics. This job had become so much more than just a job and you owed a great deal to the young lord for being willing to take you in: it had been the catalyst for you meeting your boyfriend of six months, it had gotten you out of the streets, it had given you the family that poverty had stolen from you, and it had given you the opportunity to grow and educate yourself. Education for a working class woman — imagine that!

Honestly you weren't completely unconvinced that the earl wasn't an angel on earth for how charitable he was. Even if he tried his darnedest to hide that side of himself behind a cruel and apathetic facade.

But, for as much as you appreciated the kindness of the young master, there were much more important things to worry about. For example, the fact that you and the rest of the staff had been awarded a day off for impeccable performance whilst tending to guests and 'guests' earlier in the week — which meant that Finny and yourself were planning on spending the better part of the morning in bed.

Sebastian could tend to Pluto for one day, and if he really needed your help he was more than capable of asking. So with great pleasure you settled back into your bedspread and cuddled up with your wonderfully chipper boyfriend, overjoyed at the rare opportunity to have a day all to yourselves.

————

'Morning, sweetheart,' Finny mumbled, only half-way awake as he snuggled closer into your side, 'what time is it?'

'Fin, we have the day off, it doesn't matter what time it is,' you retorted lightheartedly, pressing a brief kiss to his nose and giggling when he scrunched his face up in response, 'clearly someone slept a little bit too well, didn't they?'

'I slept the perfect amount, I'll have you know,' he joked in return, cracking open one eye to smile sleepily at you, 'but a little bit more won't do us any harm, will it?'

'You're adorable, sweetie,'

That woke him up. The casual compliment causing his cheeks to flush a beautiful cherry red as he sat up straight and stared at you like a startled animal. 'A-Adorable?'

'Mhm,' you hummed, reaching over and brushing your fingers through his unruly bedhead, 'you're the prettiest man I've ever seen, Fin, I mean it,'

'You're really pretty too!' He just about managed, taking your softer hands into his and rubbing circles on their backs with his calloused fingertips, 'The prettiest, I mean — or-or beautiful! You're really beautiful,'

'Thank you, honey,'

You leaned forwards and pressed your lips against his, reaching up to caress the side of his face with your hand as you did so. Then his large hands suddenly flew to your waist and your innocent gesture was quickly becoming something much more heated — with you straddling his waist and him deepening the kiss by tilting his head and opening his mouth into it. Passionate, hot, spontaneous — something entirely unexpected and entirely new, but neither of you wanted to stop.

Finny's strong hands slowly began to slide up and under your nightgown, exposing everything from your needy pussy to your stomach to the cool morning air. But those uncertain, curious hands didn't stop at your stomach, slowly massaging and caressing their way further and further up your body until his fingertips were just barely brushing against the swell of your breasts and before he could even ask the question you were already breaking the kiss for just a split second to give a breathy plea.

'Please,'

And, never one to doubt your judgement, Finny adjusted your position ever so slightly: allowing your thighs to sit on either side of his legs whilst his dominant hand remained in place and the other slid down to grasp at your waist and help keep you steady. His touch was still uncertain and clumsy, quizzical even, as he began to play with your breasts — alternating between the two to endure they each received equal attention whilst he began to test the waters with what you did and didn't enjoy. Gently taking your breast into the palm of his hand and squeezing it; carefully rolling your hardening nipple between two fingertips; lightly tracing the pad of his index finger along the outside of your nipple, circling the sensitive skin until you were whimpering and arching into his touch.

All the while, you were continuing to grind your wet cunt down against his noticeable bulge, circling and bucking your hips downwards and delighting in every grunt or moan that escaped his soft lips. Before long you had left a sizeable damp spot on his pyjama pants and the both of you had grown tired of simple fire play, so you broke the kiss and immediately pulled your nightdress over your head whilst Finny clumsily kicked off his own nightwear.

Then you paused and smiled and he turned a pretty shade of pink as you gave him one last chance to back out.

'You sure you want to continue? We can stop at anytime and I promise I won't get mad,' you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek to punctuate your statement and you could feel his lips quirking upwards into an awkward smile as he hummed his agreement.

'Positive,' then he paused and averted his eyes for just a moment before looking back towards you with alarm, 'Do you still want to do this? You-You don't feel pressured or anything, do you?'

You smiled and shook your head, endeared by his endless concern for your well-being.

'No, Fin, I want this; I swear,'

And with those confirmations out of the way, the two of you settled into a more comfortable position for what was to come.

————

After a bit of messing around, you were certain that this would be the best form for what you needed. With you straddling Finny, he needn't fret about his superhuman strength causing you any major harm in the heat of the moment — you were able to control the pace and that put your boyfriend's mind at ease. Though he was also quite fond of the view it gave him as you hovered mere millimetres above his aching cock, the slickness of your pussy so on display that it was making his mouth water.

Then, after a few more moments of adjusting your position on the bed, you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself and began to slowly — ever so slowly — sink down onto his dick. It was so painfully thick, the stretch alone making you wince and gasp and whimper for each inch of him that you took, making you thankful that he wasn't too lengthy once you finally managed to take all of him inside of you and were able to catch your breath. So for a few moments you just remained still, panting slightly from the effort as Finny lovingly caressed your sides and offered strained encouragement — which itself was often broken by moans and gasps for every time you happened to move or breathe too heavily.

'You're doing so well, sweetheart,'

'Th-That's it, just breathe,'

'I've got you, I — oh — I promise,'

'Take all the t-time you need,'

'You're so beaut— oh my —beautiful,'

It took a few minutes for you to settle enough into the new sensation to be comfortable enough with moving, helped by your partner's endless stream of affection and affirmation as he held you and comforted you and complimented you as earnestly as he would the queen. Though you didn't dwell on his praise for very long, instead focusing your attention on gradually starting to make love; starting off with slow, shallow bounces — closer to grinding than anything else — before gradually moving on to something deeper and faster and more enjoyable for you both.

Once you'd found your feet, you quickly settled into a rhythm that Finny was more than happy to help with: alternating between deep thrusts that had you lifting yourself up on your thighs before dropping down to take him to the hilt, and rapid mad grinding where you'd only bounce a few centimetres up and down on his length but the speed had you both moaning and gasping; attaching your lips to his Adam's apple and sucking your way down his throat, leaving more than your fair share of marks to denote him as yours and grinning against his pale skin when you felt his pulse spike beneath your tongue; pulling one of his hands upwards and encouraging him to keep on playing with your chest whilst his other hand helped to steady you as you fucked yourself on his dick. Eventually Finny even joined in and started to clumsily thrust his hips upwards in a pace that was just shy of yours, but nonetheless enjoyable as it was able to coax more moans and whimpers from the back of your throat.

Though it didn't take very long for this relentless filling of your hole and bullying of your g-spot to start to wear heavily on you. For your mind to start blanking save for the feeling of him inside and on you. For your thighs to start aching and burning from their overuse. For the muscles in your abdomen to start fluttering and tensing as your pussy spasmed around his thick length. For your vision to start to become overrun by blurs and splotches of white light. For your lips to start spewing a stream of pleas and whimpers and groans and moans. For your slick to start leaking out and covering Finny's pelvis and pubic hair.

For you to fall over the edge with a loud and whorish cry of your boyfriend's name that you couldn't even pray for the others not to have heard. Collapsing forwards onto him as he lovingly caught you and held you close as you both rode out your highs together. Panting and moaning when his cock throbbed and spilled deep inside of you, filling you to the brim until it started to trickle out of you alongside your own cum, leaking out around the girth of his softening dick. Clinging to him so tightly that it was as if you feared him disappearing entirely and attaching your lips to the base of his throat despite your lungs continuing to scream and ache for air. Ignoring the incessant thrumming of your heart as you basked in the feeling of being one with the love of your life for the first time.

Even through the haze of your orgasm being overcome with pride and possessiveness at the knowledge that you were the first person to ever touch him like this — to ever see him in such a state of disarray and since — and that you'd also be the last. Proud to have taken his innocence and endeared that he'd trusted you to do so.

In lust and in love all at once as you slowly regained clarity in the aftermath of a mind blowing release.

[vanderwoodlings]

Lonely Boy: a Dan Humphrey playlist (x)

Text version of the tracklist (and commentary) under the cut.

1. “Make You Better,” The Decemberists. But we're not so starry-eyed anymore/Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters/And won't it all just come around to make you/Let it all unbreak you to the day you met her

1. “Make You Better,” The Decemberists. But we're not so starry-eyed anymore/Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters/And won't it all just come around to make you/Let it all unbreak you to the day you met her

2. “Gun Song,” The Lumineers. I don’t own a single gun/But if I did, you’d be the one/To hold it, aim it, make all of the bad men run. A lot of this song is actually about finding out your father isn’t who you thought he was, but well. That’s pretty fitting too

3. “Wonderful,” Everclear. That thing about your dad? Uh yeah. I don’t wanna hear you say/You both have grown in a different way/No, no, no, no/I don’t wanna meet your friends/And I don’t wanna start over again

4. “Hand Me Down,” Matchbox Twenty. In which Dan is both singer and subject. You’re just one more tired hand me down/‘Cause no one’s tried to give you what you need/So lay all your troubles down/I am with you now

5. “Teen Angst (What The World Needs Now),” Cracker. It’s art kid hours

6. “Lonely Day,” Phantom Planet. I just got here, and I already want to leave/It’s gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day

7. “Rabbit Hole,” Jenny Lewis. Something something derena breakup cycle

8. “Ache With Me,” Against Me! Have you realized all the things you’ll never be?/I’ve got no judgement for you, so come on and ache with me

9. “Other Boys,” Paisley Fields. And I am not like the other boys/Other boys fit in so naturally/Other boys are just who they oughta be. When he’s queer

10. “At Seventeen,” Janis Ian. I learned the truth at seventeen/That love was meant for beauty queens/And high school girls with clear-skinned smiles. He’ll be fine he’s just gotta be dramatic

11. “Nobody,” Mitski. And I don’t want you pity, I just want somebody near me

12. “Boy Like Me,” New Medicine. She’s the only girl I see/She don’t wanna be with a boy like me

13. “She’s so High,” Tal Bachman. I know where I belong and nothing’s gonna happen, yeah

14. “Wonder Boy,” Lesley Gore. If you’re so smart/How come you don’t know I love you? Have we considered: Dan POV excludes the fact that half the Upper East Side is in love with him

15. “Rasputin,” Boney M. Okay hear me out—*gunshots*

16. “Eleanor Rigby,” The Beatles. All the lonely people/Where do they all come from?

17. “I Don’t Love Anyone,” Belle and Sebastian. If there’s one thing that I learned when I was still a child/It’s to be alone

18. “Be Nice To Me,” The Front Bottoms. And I said, Daniel Humphrey is neurodivergent

19. “I’m Not Okay (I Promise),” My Chemical Romance. I’m not o-fucking-kay!

20. “Young Man,” The Chicks. This is the quintessential Dan&Milo song to me, in some ways—not for the arc itself, but for like. What happens. You’re of me, not mine/Walk your own crooked line

21. “World Spins Madly On,” The Weepies. I thought of you and where you’d gone/And the world spins madly on. Have you noticed I’m obsessed with the Milo arc yet?

22. “Baby You’re A Haunted House,” Gerard Way. ‘Cause, baby, you’re a haunted house now

23. “This Year,” The Mountain Goats. There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year

24. “survivin’,” Bastille. And I’m not gonna lie, say I’ve been alright/‘Cause it feels like I’ve been living in a world upside down

25. “Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You?” Stevie Nicks. Dan has a love language. Dan is lonely because no one says it back. This song is actually also about the Milo arc because of why it was written

26. “Love Song,” Sara Bareilles. You see, I’m not gonna write you a love song/‘Cause you tell me it’s make or break in this. We’re all fighting the publishing industry tonight!

27. “How I Survived Bobby Mackey’s Personal Hell,” Lincoln. And we can argue semantics over who left who first/But one thing’s for certain: I needed you most

28. “Freakin’ Out On The Interstate,” Briston Maroney.

29. “Dog Days Are Over,” Florence + The Machine. Leave all your love and your lonely behind/You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive

30. “Most Of All,” Brandi Carlile. To remember what comes back/When you give your love away/Give away your love

[haunthouse]

ghost au + in-between

ghost hunter au! takes place in between when mike and derrick find jaylen’s ghost and when she makes a deal with a demon to come back to life.

“So,” Jaylen says, lounging across the entire backseat of the van — same way she did when she was alive, actually, and she keeps seeing Mike do double takes in the rearview mirror. “I was gone, what, a year? And you guys got a whole fuckin’ gaggle of ghosts to replace me?”

“Hey,” says Seb from the back of the van. He phases through the seat to look at the rest of them, and Jaylen kicks at him, because this is her space, thanks-very-much. He sticks his tongue out at her, pouting. “I’m not replacing anyone.”

“No one is,” Mike says, leaning his head back to look at her. “Besides, it’s not like — we didn’t know you were a ghost, why would we be replacing you with ghosts?”

“Also, you were gone way longer than a year.” Derrick’s driving, hasn’t actually spoken in a while — apparently it takes a lot of his focus to stay physical enough to drive, something Jaylen’s real fuckin’ glad she doesn’t have to worry about. Perks of never getting her license while she was alive, apparently.

“Semantics.” Jaylen rolls her eyes. “Hey Derrick, is it even legal for you to drive? Like, if we get pulled over, aren’t they gonna be like, oh shit, a fucking ghost driving a van, someone call the ghostbusters!”

“Stop distracting him, Jaylen.” Sebastian’s moved all the way through the seat, now. He’s sitting in the very corner of the backseat, curled up against the window with his arms wrapped around his knees, but he’s still overlapping with Jaylen’s legs in a way that sends pins and needles through Jaylen’s skin and can’t possibly be comfortable for either of them.

“Stop distracting him, Jaylen,” she mocks. “Get out of my seat, dude.” She kicks out again, trying to make the staticky feeling go away. Sees Sebastian wince at the movement.

“I don’t think it’s your seat anymore? I mean, I’ve been here a while!”

“C’mon, Jay, you can share for once in your life.” Mike pauses. “Or, I mean, not life, but — you know what I mean. Play nice.”

“Hm,” Jaylen says. Like she’s actually considering it. Like she’d ever consider that.

Obviously she isn’t. Instead, she scoots her legs in and leans forward, focuses on being just solid enough to shove Sebastian through the door of the car and out onto the highway outside. His surprised yelp is barely audible, covered quickly by the van driving away.

There’s three seconds of shocked silence before the front of the car erupts into noise.

“Jaylen, what the fuck,” Mike says, turning all the way around in his seat to look at her all wide-eyed.

“What?” She bats her eyes, the very picture of ghostly innocence. “It’s not like he’ll be hurt. He’s already dead.”

“You can’t just do that!”

“Yeah, what the fuck,” Derrick echoes from the driver’s seat, hands gripping tight to the steering wheel.

“Come on, guys. He’s annoying as fuck anyways. I did you a favor.”

“Stop talking,” Derrick says. His voice is strained; it’s started coming from the radio instead of his mouth, and she can see his brows furrow in the rearview mirror. She does stop, if only because she’d rather Mike not die in a stupid car crash because he thought letting his ghost boyfriend drive was a good idea.

“Derrick,” Mike starts, quieter.

“Yeah, I’m already going,” Derrick says, making a u-turn to go fetch Sebastian. Jaylen groans, but her protest goes ignored.

[wicked-game-black-butler]

300 followers, that's a lot of people who appreciate your work. I definitely want to participate in this event. Hmm. May I request a drabble (or Headcanons, whichever you feel more inspired to do) for a scenario where the reader has a wit of iron and tongue of steel. They are extremely scarcastic, flirtatious, salacious and for whatever reason, seemingly completely immune to Sebas charms. What his reaction would be/exploring the dynamic it poses. I do love myself a game of cat and mouse. 😈

There were only a few choice words Sebastian felt could honestly be used to describe the past week. Grueling, perhaps. Though hellish seemed more fitting. And most certainly vexing.

It had been a week since Lady Amelia Burton had arrived. Sebastian had been apprehensive of the young master’s interest in the baroness, given the earl’s general disdain for any activity which resembled socialization and the fact that they rarely hosted guests who were not given the full service of a proper Phantomhive welcome. When he had pressed the issue with his master, he had simply answered that Lady Amelia was an important stakeholder in the new line of exclusively feminine Funtom products he wanted to develop. And perhaps that would have been enough to assuage the gnawing frustration that his master was not being entirely honest with him, if it had not been for the way the boy’s voice called for him after having dismissed him to prepare his afternoon tea only moments before.

Sebastian had gritted his teeth, swallowing the sharp barb that burnt the end of his tongue. In the half a second it took to repress his ire and turn back toward the young lord, he managed to collect himself, presenting a smooth, unaffected visage. 

“Is there something else you require, my lord?” He had asked, as dutiful butlers were wont to do. 

“Yes. Prepare one of the spare servant’s rooms as well. Lady Amelia will be accompanied by her lady’s maid.” 

The young master paused and there it was--the look that renewed Sebastian’s agitation. His cerulean gaze sparked with mischief, never wavering, as his lips spread with impish glee.

“She isn’t like the other servants. I believe you will find her most refreshing.”

It had only been a week and Sebastian thought he was going to lose his mind.

No exasperation caused by the other household servants nor the petulant treatment from his young master could have steeled him for what the next seven days would bring.

It had begun subtly at first- a comment here, a contradiction there. Nothing that did more than ruffle the butler, but he quickly dismissed it. She didn’t know how things were done here. Perhaps the Burton’s butler was more lenient. Either way, she would learn soon enough. 

It wasn’t until she began defying his orders that he began to take notice.

Such as when she had made the baroness tea. It had been a couple hours after Sebastian had sent the servants to attend their daily tasks and he was returning to his office, hoping for a brief reprieve from the chaos the others had managed to stir up, despite the fact it was only mid-morning. That was when he had smelled it, the musky-sweet scent.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, pausing when he opened the door.

“Why, that’s a rather accusatory tone.” she acerbically replied, brow quirking as she glanced up, never ceasing in her preparations of the tea tray. “I thought it rather obvious what I am doing.”

“I believe I asked you to assist Mey-Rin with the fireplaces.”

“You did.”

The spoon clicked against the silver tea strainer and Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Then why are you in my office preparing tea?”

“My lady always takes tea half past ten.” she explained, closing the tin with a hollow click before walking over to the shelf and slipping the container back into its place. “It is my duty to tend to my lady’s wants and needs.”

He narrowed his eyes, staring down his nose at her when she came to stand before him, tray in hand. “While I can appreciate such dedication, isn’t it above your position to ignore the orders of a butler?”

She stepped forward when he did not budge, punctuating her reply, “No.”

At this, Sebastian took a long step to stand directly in front of her, his gloved hands covering her as he pressed, “I am unsure how things are done in your household, but you are under the Phantomhive roof and I am the Phantomhive butler. So long as you are here, you are under my authority.”

“I am afraid you are incorrect, Mr. Michaelis.” she quipped, gaze never breaking from his, “You see, I am Lady Burton’s lady’s maid and, as such, am under her authority alone, no matter whose roof is over my head.”

The only visible sign of his anger was the flaring of his nostrils. His hands clenched hers, careful not to break any bones, no matter how tempting. He wanted to do nothing more than to rip the resolutely defiant look off her face. 

With a smooth movement, she slipped from his hold.

“Now, if you would be so kind, I must see to her ladyship.” 

His burning gaze bore into her back as she gracefully navigated around him and made her way down the hall and to the servant’s stairs. It appeared he was going to have to be more persuasive if he wanted to depose her resistance. Clearly intimidation wasn’t working.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Then came the incident from a few days prior when he caught her near the linen closet, fresh towels draped over her arm.

“My, what do we have here?” he purred, sauntering toward her.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Your continued questioning of the obvious has me wondering whether you are a condescending arse or simply dense.”

A dark chuckle echoed down the hallway, along with the click of his heels against the stone tile floor. His steps- calculated, measured, predatory. Sebastian’s eyes sparked with premature glee when the maid took a step back, her back pressing against the wall as he closed the distance between them.

“My, my. Such language from a lady’s maid.” he toyed, slamming his right hand against the wall beside her head, the mocking grin that teased his lips becoming irrepressible at the skip of her heartbeat. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

His gaze dropped, so he looked at her with an alluring half-lidded stare. To her credit, other than the irregularity of her heart a moment ago, she gave no sign his actions affected her in any way. Not even a blush, which even dusted Bard’s cheeks when Sebastian chose to toy with the cook.

“You could let me take these towels to my lady so I can assist her with bathing before she takes her dinner.” she challenged, making to slip away to the left.

However, Sebastian was faster this time and prevented her escape by slamming his left hand by her head as well. Perfect, she couldn’t worm her way out this time.

“I’m afraid it’s not so simple. You see, I am the only one permitted access to the linen closet. Anyone else who takes from the closet is punished.” he paused, coming to rest his forearms against the wall to bring his face and body within a hair's breadth from hers, “Now, you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She smiled coyly, her gaze never leaving his as she coquettishly answered, “Only because I’ve not done anything worthy of such punishment.”

She reached into her skirt pocket, Sebastian’s breath hitching when her knuckles brushed against the front seam of his pants, before presenting the retrieved key with a flourish.

“See? I was even on my way to return the key before I went up.”

“Do you really believe such an olive branch will save you?” he purred, his voice dipping an octave lower as he allowed his body to press up against hers. “This week has been littered with punishable offenses. Do you really desire penance?”

He lifted his hand, trailing his gloved fingers down her cheek while he pressed his hips against hers ever-so-slightly, breathing, “To be at my mercy?”

Sebastian couldn’t mask the confusion that wrinkled his brows at the chuckle that answered his double-entendre. Any of the other servants would have been a stammering mess of modest embarrassment and anticipation by this point, but this woman had the nerve to return his efforts with an amused stare and mocking grin.

“I can only assume your words were meant to threaten, if they didn’t ring so hollow.” she teased, her grin spreading to a smirk as she slowly trailed the key down his torso and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. 

“You see,” she whispered into his ear, an involuntary shiver of anticipation slithering down his spine when her lips brushed against the shell and her hand continued to trail down to where his arousal pressed against his pants, “it would seem you are at my mercy instead.”

His hands clenched while biting back the gasp that sounded in his throat when her hand gave his cock a calculated stroke.

He wasn’t certain when she had slipped from his clutches. Instead, when the realization of her absence hit, he stood, staring at the wall in utter disbelief, slack-jawed, flabbergasted, and uncomfortably aroused. Amusement and fury roiled nauseatingly in his gut. The young master had aptly described her affect as refreshing. These past five days had been a twisted distraction from the lulling tedium of his post, however, he couldn’t be sure if he preferred it. He’d yet to decide which fate he desired for her, killing or fucking.

In the end, he did neither.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Last night had been Sebastian’s breaking point. He had come down sometime between afternoon tea and dinner to find her reading in the servant’s hall. She didn’t look up when he entered and he frowned. Humans always recognized his presence, even when he wasn’t visible. Yet here she sat as if she were the only soul in the room. Which was technically true, though such a reality was merely a matter of semantics.

“For a lady’s maid, you certainly have a lot of free time on your hands.” he jibbed, coming to sit across from her.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line at the unwelcome interruption and carefully marked the book before setting it aside. 

“And, for a butler, free time seems a scarcity.” she drawled, mimicking the way his chin rested on his hand, “One would think such a position would afford you some liberties.”

“Unfortunately, my master is not overly fond of liberties.”

A mischievous light flickered in her gaze, her lips twitching with amusement as she leaned forward. “So it would seem. His lordship keeps you on a rather short lead, like an ill-behaved dog.”

Sebastian’s brows creased at the jab, tendrils snapping like a whip and he opened his mouth to fire a returning shot when she cut him short.

“The reason I have more flexibility with my time is because, unlike you, Lady Amelia does not require my constant attention and she trusts me enough to leave me to my own devices, even when it comes to her care. Though I suppose that is a benefit of serving a young lady rather than a tyrannical child.”

“I do not know how things are done at the Burton household,” Sebastian leered, “but here such an open expression of opinions other than those of the young master are forbidden. So it would do well if you hold your tongue in the future, or-...”

“Or what?” she cut him off in challenge, “You’ll punish me by beating me with your sausage?”

Her chair grated across the stone tile as she stood. “I do not know how servants typically react to such correction, but I can assure you, Mr. Michaelis, I am not interested.” 

With that, she made to leave, though she paused when the ringing of a house bell echoed in the tensely silent room. Under the table, Sebastian’s hands clenched painfully, his mind racing as he attempted to concoct a reasonable explanation to his lord for her untimely demise.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to my lady.” she quietly said, disappearing into the hallway.

The room darkened, silverware and dishes clattering in the vibrating hutch, and Sebastian’s tendrils reached out after the maid, aching for violence. She had wounded his pride one too many times. Her disdain for his master did nothing but sting for the sake of aesthetic, but her rejection of his advances was what burnt most-- searing like a hot iron. He had never been rejected. Never. Even the most pious, most pure eventually surrendered to his honeyed words and promising caresses. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like sex. The wanton sounds echoing from her quarters several nights this week as she and Bard lost themselves to their passions was enough to confirm that. 

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. The rattling ceased. The evening light poured into the room once more. And he stood, straightening his waistcoat with a swift tug. 

Who was she? His mind chided. She was nothing, no more than a potential meal or passing distraction. To allow her such sway over his emotions was pathetic, unfit for both a demon and a Phantomhive servant. Such disgrace would not do. 

The morning could not come soon enough.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The dew was still on the grass when Sebastian and the young earl stood at the bottom of the grand stairs to see Lady Amelia and her maid off. Several feet away, his master and the baroness chatted amicably. Though he would never admit it aloud, Sebastian could tell by the light in his lord’s eye that he rather enjoyed the young woman’s company. Apparently the business discussions had been a success.

The gravel crunched, pulling his attention away from them and to the woman who stood before him, her hands clasped behind her back. 

“It appears we are to part ways, Mr. Michaelis.” 

“Indeed.” Sebastian answered dryly.

She took a tentative step toward him, the most deferential look on her face he had seen all week. Who was this woman?

“My lady said the conversations with Lord Phantomhive were rather enjoyable and quite productive for both parties. It appears we may see more of each other.”

“Perhaps.”

If Sebastian didn’t know better, he would have thought he caught a brief softening of her gaze, as if she was wounded by his curt politeness. He did not have to feign being agreeable any longer. So long as he was civil, he would have met his master’s social requirements as a butler and she would get no more than that.

She took another step forward to stand too close for polite society.

“I wanted to thank you for your hospitality this past week. I rather enjoyed myself and your company.”

Sebastian held up his hand to muffle the scoff he could not repress, sardonically answering, “Perhaps if you had the twinkle of tears in your eyes, I might begin to believe you. Though I must say, you have a rather odd way of displaying your appreciation.”

“Perhaps.” She giggled, a more familiar, more settling spark of mischief lighting in her eyes.

Casting a glance over to the nobles, she added. “There is something I wish to give you.” 

Before he knew what was happening, she stood on her tip-toes, pressing her full, sweet lips against his, only pausing to whisper breathily in his ear, “Something to remember me by.”

She placed something cool and heavy in his hands, any questions he had dying on his tongue when Lady Amelia called for her maid. 

“Until next time, Mr. Michaelis.” She coquettishly said, playfully winking before turning and joining the baroness.

The sounds of crunching gravel ceased, soon followed by the gentle click of the carriage door closing, but Sebastian was only mildly aware. In his hands was a clay flower pot in which grew a plant with deeply grooved leaves and small lilac shaded blooms that he would recognize anywhere-- catnip.

The corners of his mouth twitched, a pondering grin spreading his lips as he looked up just in time to catch sight of the maid one last time, their gazes meeting for a brief, yet knowing, second before the carriage rounded the bend in the drive.

“Humans are such strange creatures.” He softly commented when he came to his master’s side.

“You’ve been saying that all week.” the young lord sighed and began ascending the stairs to the manor’s entrance, “I surmise that means Lady Amelia’s maid met my expectations for you?”

“Perhaps more than I even realized, my lord.”

Sebastian paused as he held the door open to let his master enter before him, brows creasing in thought, his gaze following the carriage along its path down the drive until it came to the cover of the trees that lined the path.

And, as it became obscured from view, Sebastian wondered which thought bothered him most-the memory of the past week or the fact that some part of him, as small as it may be, would miss her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soooo, it ended up being a smidge over 1,000 words (2,801 to be exact), but once I got started, I couldn’t stop myself, lol. I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for being patient while you waited on me to finish this. 

And a huge thank you for being one of my 300 followers! I always love reading your comments on my stories with your anecdotes, different takes, and attention to detail. <3 <3 <3 

[detectivesebcas]

Promptober Day 10- A Bad Case of Death

Requested by: @sebcastellanyes

Warnings: explicit language, mild gore, minor character death (handled in a very non-serious way)

“Hey, you,” Sebastian slurs into the phone.  His voice is thick with sleep and his mind is fuzzy, but even through bleary eyes, he can see Stefano’s name on the incoming call screen.

“Sebastian, we have a problem at the gallery,” Stefano says tersely.  Unfortunately the tension in his voice is lost on half-asleep Sebastian.

“What do you mean, ‘problem’?” he asks, because all of the problems he can think of that would come up at the gallery are pretty benign.  Hopefully Stefano isn’t calling him in the middle of the night because he dropped his camera or something.

“There’s no time for that, Sebastian,” Stefano insists.  “You need to get over here right now!”

It is three o’clock in the morning, and as far as Sebastian is concerned this isn’t the time for anything but sleep.  However, now that he is alert enough to detect it, there is an urgency in Stefano’s voice that he can’t ignore.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters.  “I’m coming, but this had better be an actual emergency.”

The phone beeps, and Sebastian looks down to see that Stefano has hung up.  He sighs and slides out of bed, fumbling around in the dark for his clothes.

***

Sebastian floors it all the way to the gallery, hoping he won’t be pulled over by one of his own colleagues, because that would be really embarrassing.  He breathes a sigh of relief when he pulls into the parking lot, lets himself in, and hurries to Stefano’s office.  The ‘problem’ Stefano referred to is immediately apparent.

“Jesus Christ!” Sebastian shouts in surprise.  “What the hell happened here?”  He gestures at the woman slumped over in the chair beside Stefano’s desk.

“Nothing!” Stefano says, throwing his hands up in frustration.  “Nothing!  She wanted a preview of the exhibit that is opening tomorrow, and I agreed, and then…” He waves his hand in the direction of the woman.

“And then what?” snaps Sebastian, because they are definitely missing a few steps here.  “Is she…?”

He steps in and feels for a pulse, but finds none.

“Yes,” Stefano replies.  “She collapsed while we were touring the exhibit, and I brought her back here.”

“Who is she?” Sebastian asks, already wondering what the police report on this incident is going to look like.

Stefano frowns.  “You see, that is the problem-“

“No,” Sebastian interjects, “this is the problem.”  He waves his hand at the woman’s body again.  “Who is she?”

“Her name is Susan Phi,” Stefano replies, eye downcast.  “She is an art critic.”

“What?” Sebastian snaps, because he knows that name.  He has seen that name in Stefano’s files in Union, and he is sure that she and Stefano had a fairly antagonistic relationship even at that point.

“It’s not what you think,” Stefano says quickly.

“The hell it’s not!” Sebastian shoots back.  “We had one rule when we got out of Union- one!  Do you remember what that was?”

Stefano sighs deeply.  “Don’t kill everyone,” he says.

“No!” Sebastian says, exasperated.  “No, it was ‘Don’t kill anyone!’”

“That was not my understanding,” Stefano says matter-of-factly.  “And you must admit, those are two very different things.”

“You...you...you cannot get out of this using semantics!” Splutters Sebastian.

“That doesn’t matter,” Stefano replies, “because I didn’t kill her.”

Sebastian eyes him warily.  He wants to believe Stefano- he really does- because things have been going so well since they escaped from STEM.  There is a voice in the back of his mind telling him that of course it was too good to be true, but he desperately wants everything to be okay.

“So if I look at her body I’m not going to see a bunch of stab wounds?” He asks.

Stefano shuffles his feet uncomfortably.  “Well...you see,” he begins.  “The thing is…she sort of collapsed onto a knife.”  His voice drops so low at the end of the sentence that Sebastian has to lean forward to hear him.

“She collapsed onto what?”

Stefano sighs.  “A knife.”

“Was it your knife by any chance?” Sebastian asks, because it is getting harder and harder for him to find an explanation for all of this that doesn’t implicate Stefano in a murder.

“Unfortunately it was,” Stefano replies.

Sebastian groans.  Just to confirm his suspicions, he grabs a pen from Stefano’s desk and uses it to push aside one flap of the woman’s blazer.  Underneath it, her white shirt is soaked with blood.

“It was an accident,” Stefano offers.

“No,” Sebastian says.  “You don’t have accidents, and I find it really hard to believe that your harshest critic had an ‘accident’ while she was alone with you at your gallery.  Surely you can understand that?”

“I know this doesn’t look very good,” Stefano concedes, “but it was an accident, and even if it wasn’t, I did not break the rule.  I didn’t kill everyone.”

“Oh god damn it, not this again.”  Sebastian rakes a hand through his hair.  He has to think.  They have to do something, because now he’s caught up in this too.  He’s sort of taken on responsibility for Stefano since they got out of STEM, and up until this morning it’s been going really well.

And now they’ve got a body.  It’s someone Stefano has motive to kill, and the manner of death has Stefano’s signature all over it.

“If it makes a difference,” Stefano offers.  “She really was a very unpleasant individual.”

Sebastian is pretty sure that it doesn’t make a difference but they really only have one option.

He turns to Stefano.  “Help me get her body to the car,” he says.

Stefano springs into action, looking absolutely delighted that the two of them are going to be disposing of a body together.

Susan Phi is quite a bit heavier than she looks, and as they are struggling down the stairs, Sebastian takes a moment to remind Stefano.  “Okay, from now on, the rule is ‘Don’t kill anyone.’”

“You take all the fun out of everything,” grumbles Stefano.

[sebastian-whoisleft]

strings attached ✦ may 1993 ✦ sebastian & tazie

If someone would have told a fifteen-year-old Sebastian Nott that the day would come when he’d see the (capital letters necessary for emphasis) Unattainable Girl Of His Dreams Anastazie Dolohov, younger sister of his best friend in the world, and all around top-ten favorite people, walking his way...and attempt to avoid her by politely stepping behind the cover of a flourishing houseplant? 

Well, he’d call you crazy. 

That was the situation today, though. 

It was too late. They’d already met eyes and there were too many other people in attendance at the fundraiser – for one of Sebastian’s political rivals, technically, but he’d never been one for rivals – for them to avoid one another now without looking like they were doing it for a salacious reason. 

“Madame Shafiq,” said Sebastian smoothly, holding out a hand with which to take hers. The Wizengamot agreed with her, clearly; one of the youngest to ever hold a seat on the council, including back in the old days when witches came of age at thirteen instead of seventeen and only had half the wits about them than The Incomparable Tazie did.

Sebastian kissed the back of her hand and smiled. They hadn’t talked in over six years, and it their last conversation had been a similar social trap – it hadn’t lasted long. They never wrote. 

It was easier to see Emma, but that was different. Even if Emma hadn’t helped Sebastian escape his own pending charges unscathed, she’d played her part of the tricked wife in the press well enough; nobody doubted it, which was frankly astounding. Sebastian’s wife had died years ago and the gossip pages like to poke fun at the idea of he and Emma getting together...without ever mentioning the fact that he’d once been best friends with the demonized caricature of her husband that the whole world had come to see. Without ever mentioning that Antonin had been Theo’s godfather; still was, if you wanted to bring semantics into it.

Even with Tazie’s last name changed, there was still something more...weighty to it. The direct family relationship; the direct family resemblance, with those hawkish large eyes and the sly, curling smiles. All that unpleasant business was in the past, but Tazie and Sebastian were similar in how little they liked to be reminded of it. Even Emma was able to crack a dry joke every now and again, while Sebastian tightened his tie and suffered through a sweaty smile. 

“You’re looking wonderful as ever,” Sebastian said, wondering how they could discreetly get a moment alone – either to talk or to pretend they were talking while bowing out their separate ways. He stood up straighter. It didn’t matter that he was a newly-minted thirty five years old. He still managed to feel like a hat-backwards, grinning slouch in the shadow of Tazie not-Dolohov. No matter how far he got into his political career, Seb doubted it would ever not be the case. 

“Are you throwing your hat in the ring to support Chambers, then?” 

[willsherjohnkhan]

The Werewolf of Baker St

Chapter 5: The Professor, The Blackmailer, and The Madam

***

There are two ways you can become a werewolf, be born as one, or be turned into one. However turning can have its complications, and occasionally something goes awry.

If the participant is willing the semantic pathways in the brain will allow the new genetic coding in to freely establish themselves, thus allowing the changes that will take place to become a normal part of the individual’s transformation.

Issues arise if the recipient of the bite are strongly resistant to the prospect of being turned, and puts up a fight that ultimately causes damage to the synapse, leading to a reduced cognitive function that will cause a defect in the change, resulting in dire consequences, and not only for the individual concerned as the deficiency leaves them unable to form a bond, which means they will never find a mate and breed.

This drove many insane, the grizzly results of which were being found on the streets of London.

***

THE WHIP HAND

They were a misfit pack: James Moriarty, Charles Augustus Magnussen, and Irene Adler, who came together soon after becoming werewolves. And although none of them had ever had much in the way of empathy before their transformations, that lacking was now enhanced by a callous and cruel disregard for human life, as evidenced by the growing body count during the full moon cycle.

But the appearance of Sherlock Holmes was a sign that their activities over the last couple of months had caught more than just the human law enforcements notice, but that of the renowned werewolf consulting detective too.

The question now was how best to deal with him.

As luck would have it, a possible solution was brought to them.

*

Though all three could clearly scent him before he reached the door, they preferred to wait until their human collaborator gave the secret knock before allowing him entrance.

“You’ll never believe what I’ve just discovered,” Sebastian Moran said with obvious excitement.

“Do tell,” Moriarty invited.

“That Bart’s Hospital pathologist, Hooper isn’t who he says he is.”

“And who is he, exactly,” Irene inquired though it was clear she wasn’t that enthused by the subject currently under discussion.

“He’s a she,” Moran supplied triumphantly.

“Say that again?” Moriarty said with a malicious glint in his black eyes.

“He’s a she,” Moran repeated before going into detail of the events he had witnessed after they had fled.

*

“Well, well, well,” Moriarty murmured thoughtfully. Turning to Magnussen, he enquired. “Think you can make that into your next front page story?”

“I don’t see why not,” Magnussen replied, already heading out the door. “’St Bart’s Hospital Embroiled in Scandal’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

***

[betty-kim-iln-3001]

Documentary Report (1) The Audacity of Christian Art: The Problem with Christ

The Audacity of Christian Art: The Problem with Christ is a film series presented by Dr Chloë Reddaway, Howard and Roberta Ahmanson Curator in Art and Religion at the National Gallery. The film series was made in 2017.

In the series Dr Reddaway focuses on the gallery's Conservation Department where the viewer is shown a series of Renaissance paintings by masters of the 15th century.

The series is made of 7 short video clips around 6-7minutes each and titled:

The audacity of Christian art: the problem with Christ

Christ is not like a snail: Signs and symbols

Putting God in His place: Here, everywhere, and nowhere

Time and eternity: Yesterday, today, and always

This world and the next: Christ on earth; Christ in heaven

So near and yet so far: Visions and thresholds

Unspeakable images: When words fail

The series deals with many interesting points about the art of depiction and portrayal of the complex nature of Christ. In Christianity, God is believed to be One but that is ‘God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit’ and this is known as the ‘Trinity’. [1]

‘The incarnation’, which literally means ‘to take on flesh’, refers to the belief of God taking on the human form. [2]  

In the first episode of the film series, Dr Reddaway begins by outlining  the complexity in the expression of this paradoxical phenomena contained in one figure, especially in a visual sense; illuminating the impossible problem of painting Christ: how do you paint a figure who is fully divine and fully human?

In each video Dr Reddaway draws her points from paintings in the gallery. In the first video she uses a depiction of the resurrected Christ through : ‘The Incredulity of Saint Thomas’ by Giovanni Battista Cima da Conegliano made at the start of the 16th century.

[Fig 1: screenshot from the video clip showing the painting The Incredulity of Saint Thomas]

The painting shows the resurrected Christ with Thomas (one of his disciples) touching the wound on his side which was made by a spear after he was dead on the cross. This is a narrative painting that shows the story from the New Testament where, after his crucifixion, Jesus appeared in front of his disciples and showed his wounds and Thomas, who wasn’t present at the time was doubtful and said ‘Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.’ . The painting depicts the scene that happened eight days later when the disciples are gathered again, this time with Thomas being present, and Christ appears once more and invites Thomas to touch him where he then comes to ‘believe’.[3]

As Dr Reddaway states ‘it’s not hard to sympathise with Thomas. He knew that Christ was human. He knew he was dead. It took an encounter with the Resurrected Christ himself, to make Thomas recognise his divinity’.

Like Thomas, the viewers are ‘who the artist needs to show’ the paradoxical ‘human and divine’ nature of Christ. Cima does this by: choosing this specific scene of the story and using the figurative narrative of the painting that holds semantic meaning and significance and also, literally through the visual elements he implements in the painting. In other words, the painting is about a scene that questions Christ’s human and divine nature and this is Cima’s visual way of asking the question of ‘how does one paint this?’ which touches upon the concept explored in the next video; how the attempt of painting Christ interestingly, must, as Dr Reddaway explains, ‘ultimately fail’.

[Fig. 2: screenshot of the snail]

Iconography is the term used to describe ‘any object or image that is outstanding or has a special meaning attached to it’ [4]. In the third video, the viewers are introduced to Carlo Crivelli’s The Virgin and Child with Saints Francis and Sebastian, 1491, where Dr Reddaway explains how the iconography is incorporated in the task of painting Christ. In the painting there is a snail beside St Francis’ foot and the incorporation of this icon is used as an act of acknowledging the inadequacy of the use of ‘words and pictures’ when ‘communicating about God’ as it acts as a visual symbol.

During the video Dr Reddaway mentions the words of Pseudo-Dionysius, a Greek Christian theologian and Neoplatonic Philosopher who lived in the 5-6th century, who stated that even ‘an earthworm can be a symbol for Christ’ as it prompts the viewer to think about the significance and meaning behind what the strange or ‘dissemblant’, as Dr Reddaway put it, symbol is trying to indicate. [5][6]

As Corrigan, Kevin and L. Michael Harrington mentions in "Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2019, when we liken God to something so humble and strange like a ‘worm’ it causes us to be ‘shocked’ into thinking in a different way. The bigger the ‘dissimilarity’ between the divine and the visual metaphor used the more, as Corrigan et al. would say, they ‘bear the capacity to signify the divine more appropriately than supposedly worthier images’ by ‘[pointing] [us] to the sacred in a new way’. The worm is ‘the most humblest of creatures and it points to the humble nature of Christ who was born on earth in a manger and lived a humble life, whilst simultaneously highlighting how he wasn’t like an earthworm. [5][6]

According to Dr Reddaway, the snail acts as a metaphor for the conception of Mary as snails are asexual, it was a ‘analogous to Mary’s virginal conception’ of the Christ.

Likewise in the fourth video, one is introduced to the notion of how place is used as a device to depict the nature of the finite and infinite-ness of Christ. In tandem with the third video, the miraculous story of the conception of the Virgin is used again through the painting of The Annunciation, by Fra Filippo Lippi (1450-3) we see another visual interpretation of the paradoxical story.

[Fig. 3 screenshot]

Compositionally, the painting is a horizontal image and is shaped like a dome with the angel is on the left and Mary on the right with a distance between the two to symbolise how the virgin is ‘chaste and set apart’. As the conception was an invisible phenomena the artist artfully uses perspective and places the vanishing point of the picture at a point where the stone wall sits, which acts as a ‘spatial metaphor’ to create a visual sense of mystery and how we as humans do not know the ‘beyond the point of infinity’. This personally was one of my favourite visual examples of the depiction of the concept as I thought it worked very effectively in creating the sense of mystery and holding the sense of finiteness and infiniteness simultaneously.

The Deposition by the  Master of Saint Bartholomew Altarpiece was made around 1500-5. In the fifth video the use of different materials on this painting illustrates how the German artist expressed the concept of time vs timelessness and a feeling of heavenly setting vs the earthly setting. The painting has a sense of ‘realism in the foreground’ whereas the background is golden, creating the sense of otherworldly and timelessness and this distinction creates a powerful dichotomy of time and space. By having these contrasting forms of realism and golden heavenliness in the background, we are reminded that Christ had ‘a human and temporal life’ but is still the divine Son of God and as Christians believe, to be the same ‘Yesterday, today and always’.

In the same painting, Dr Reddaway explored how the use of iconography was used to show the notion of time. The symbol of the skull and ointment jar at the front act as visual metaphors that symbolise the story of Mary pouring ointment on Christ’s feet when he was still alive which foreshadowed the death Christ’s death and the skull acted as a reference to Golgotha – the place where Christ was crucified, meaning ‘the place of the skull’. But even more interestingly I enjoyed Dr Reddaway’s point of how it could act as the symbol of Adam (the first man)’s skull which directly lies in contrast with the moment in which salvation and redemption occur – the crucifixion where Jesus is known to have died was sacrifice, taking up the sins of the world to provide eternal life. In other words the paradox of life and death is shown in these two iconographic images within the painting. Like the snail from the third video I think this was also a clever way of incorporating a message within a visual piece.

[Fig. 4 & 5: screenshots from the 5th film of the series]

Other points made in the series were:

The depiction of heaven in portraying Christ

Depicting the concept of visions and revelations in portraying Christ's holiness/divinity

Ambiguity being a visual way to express the artist's humility towards the acceptance of the impossibility of the task

The series was very enriching and opened my eyes to the vastness of exploring into just the life of Jesus due to the paradoxical nature of his being; both divine and human. Even in the Bible there are many symbols and metaphorical imagery used to illustrate Jesus in both the new and old testament. It would be interesting to further my research by exploring into the different depictions of Christ at different points in history beyond the 15th century.

Bibliography

[1] The National Gallery, L., 2017. The Audacity of Christian Art film series | Art and Religion | National Gallery, London. [online] Nationalgallery.org.uk. Available at: <https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/research/about-research/art-and-religion/the-audacity-of-christian-art-film-series> [Accessed 6 December 2021].

[2] BBC Bitesize. 2021. The incarnation - God and authority in Christianity - GCSE Religious Studies Revision - Edexcel - BBC Bitesize. [online] Available at: <https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zbj48mn/revision/7> [Accessed 6 December 2021].

[3] Bible Gateway. 2011. Bible Gateway passage: John 20:19-27 - New International Version. [online] Available at: <https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2020%3A19-27&version=NIV> [Accessed 6 December 2021].

[4]  Tate. n.d. Iconography – Art Term | Tate. [online] Available at: <https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/i/iconography> [Accessed 6 December 2021].

[5] En.wikipedia.org. 2021. Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite - Wikipedia. [online] Available at: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pseudo-Dionysius_the_Areopagite> [Accessed 6 December 2021].

[6] Corrigan, Kevin and L. Michael Harrington, "Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2019 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.),

available at: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/pseudo-dionysius-areopagite/#SymThe

[cielizzydefencesquad]

Hello all! Chapter 3 of Carousel is now up and Sebastian has made his grand debut :)

Here’s a snippet:

“Wait.” Sebastian held out his hand. “Agni’s number.”

“For the last time his name’s Arshad.”

The forensic accountant’s smile sharpened. (How Sebastian got Commissioner Spears to give him such a ridiculous title, Astre would never know.)

Instead, the younger man muttered a few choice words that sounded rather like insults but Sebastian paid him no heed. Astre Phantomhive (or Detective Faust—his title really did depend on his mood) was a bitter little boy who would grow to become a bitter old man while Sebastian was off exploring the exotic goods of an alluring India.

Seemed like a fair enough trade to him.

“Here.” The sapphire detective threw a leaflet of paper at him. “Keep in mind, if you hurt him Soma has sixteen fully grown elephants that can trample you and your fun bits until they both resemble flat tires.”

“He can rest easy.” Sebastian snatched the note up. “I am a patron of all things pleasurable and amusing.”

Astre grimaced. “Don’t say that shit out loud. It’s mortifying for everyone involved.”

“And this,” Sebastian smirked, “is why you can’t land a date.”

“Says the man who all but blackmailed me into giving him someone else’s number.”

The quasi-international criminal (Sebastian preferred the term extralegal) waved away his words as he plugged Agni’s number into his phone. “Semantics.”

“When you get a restraining order thrown your way, don’t come crying to me.”

“I don’t cry.”

“You cried watching Homeward Bound.”

[ambeauty]

It’s preview time bitches….

Putting it under the cut so as to keep the post cleaner. And an extra special shoutout to thee queen @not-so-mundane-after-all for her amazing art that I will be using when the fic drops!

Kory sees Dick stalking toward them. His skin is a little flushed and he missed a few buttons at the top of his shirt and it is exposing the top of his sturdy chest, the soft hairs peeking out. He looks sexy as fuck, but she should be focused on who is in front of her. This beautiful stranger who she had been having a great time dancing with.

“Hey buddy, I need to talk to her for a second?” Dick taps Sebastian on the shoulder lightly.

“Do you know him?” Sebastian steps back some from Kory but not letting go of her waist. It pisses Dick off more.

“Yes he’s my—“

“Partner. Sorry man,” Dick shrugs.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” Sebastian drops his hands.

“It’s not-“ Kory tries to explain.

“It’s ok love. Hopefully we’ll meet again,” Sebastian nods at Dick and walks off. “Partner, Dick really?”

“Is that not true?”

“Of course it’s true but you know how it sounds?”

“How does it sound?”

“I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Then don’t. You wanted to dance right?”

“I was dancing.”

“Yeah but not with me.”

“You said you don’t dance.”

“I’ll let you be the judge.”

“Fine then let’s dance,” she places her hands on his collar and pulls him closer to her.

I find you, I give you all you needing. I know what you like. I feel it coming. Time is of the essence.

He wraps his hands around her waist and takes a shallow breath to tamper his irritation that the other guy’s hands were there right before his. He enjoys the feeling of her skin in between the strings of her dress and he grazes her hips with his fingertips lightly as he pulls her hips into his. She sways her hips in his hands and he tightens his grip and moves in sync with hers.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she whispers in his ear.

“You look good, really good,” he whispers and pushes her hair behind her ear.

“You look good too,” she looks into his deep soulful eyes. Her gaze is loaded. He picks up her hand and twirls her into him with her back to his chest. She grinds her ass against him closer to the sound of the afrobeats from the club.

“Kory,” he whispers against her neck in warning about the tightness growing in his pants. She slides his hands on the top of her thighs as she continues to press into him at an agonizing pace and pressure.

Visuals for what I’m working on 👀

Kory…

This Hair, This Dress …

This (slut) man

In this setting 👀….