#ciel phantomhive drabble

[scribbleseas]

in love & in war, drabble 2: the one where you meet him

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: None, save for some explicit sexual content down the line! This is just a lighthearded series for fun! Think Bridgerton :)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the wait! I dropped this series premiere and academia decided to just become torture from then until basically now! But now I’m a bit more free to get some writing, and hopefully I can get my content consistent again! I’ve missed you all so much. I hope you guys like this drabble! I wrote it in one sitting so I will probably make some edits/additions down the line, you know how it is lol.

Also, if you would like to be put on a taglist for my fics, please comment and I will tag you for each update! Or if you only want to follow specific fics, you can let me know in your comment and I will make individual taglists for each fic :).

Happy Reading,

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

Y/N Y/L/N

“You filled my entire dance card?” you lamented, feeling your resolve crumble as you scanned over the small piece of cardstock paper’s lineup of 20 names, each aligned with a planned piece from the ensemble: Lord Alexis Cuthbert, Mr. Nigel Crawford, The Honorable Geoffrey Wilson… The list included a plethora of noble lords and heirs to either significant corporations or well-respected aristocratic bloodlines.

“That is in accordance with the terms of the deal, yes,” your mother insisted, simpering at you while Daphne hooked long diamond teardrops in your ears, set in gold to match the thick necklace resting on your chest. “There were many house calls made about this specific inquiry, and they were all qualified young men.” By the tone of her voice, you could tell she felt she was doing you a favor.

But truly, meeting a man during a dance was excruciating. There was no respectable escape if the conversation was painfully dry or offensive. All you could do was pray for the ending measure of the music and make a swift exit.

You sighed, turning your attention back to the list: Mr. Jack Morrison, Lord Clarence Abery, The Honorable George Ackland…

“I understand. Thank you,” you surrendered, knowing fully well that there was no changing this list without disrespecting those on it already. You were fortunate that your parents were giving you the freedom to choose your suitor in the first place. Most of your peers had been betrothed since their birth, promised to a relative or a family friend as one half of a smart match.

Mr. Neil Gayton, Lord George Cuross…

You were the Earl of Richmond and founder of TransAtlantica’s only child. That was two inheritances—even if you couldn’t assume all control. Your positions should have locked you into a smart match from the start, but your parents decided to give you a chance at a love match, too. A chance at finding real love just as they did: through a cultivated list of requirements.

As painful and awkward the prospect was, it certainly wasn’t the worst outcome for a woman in your position.

“Lord Ciel Phantomhive?” your eye caught his name before you could properly descend through the list because you couldn’t believe it was there of all places. You knew the Lord Phantomhive to be incredibly private, skipping most if not all social gatherings and public appearances. The public rumored that he guarded his appearance closely because he was one of Her Majesty’s advisors and private investigators. You were most accustomed to seeing his name in stately cursive at the bottom of correspondences with your father and his associates.

“His butler called on his behalf the other day,” Daphne answered for your mother, smiling apologetically for interjecting. “He said he will be attending the charity ball tonight and wishes to meet you.”

“He is more than qualified and interested,” your mother said, “your father has always liked him.”

“Father likes his business strategy, no one knows him,” you answered, letting the dance card fall from your wrist limply. There was no merit in analyzing the names on it— you knew there was no escaping the evening.

Your mother rolled her eyes, unwilling to engage with your technicalities. “Come now. Our guests are trickling in. We should greet them with your father,” she offered her arm to you. You accepted, allowing her to guide you out of the suite with Daphne in tow. Whenever TransAtlantica co-hosted events at the Langham Hotel, your family rented the penthouse to finish preparations without having to make a commute from the estate.

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability. Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability, Ciel Phantomhive reminded himself with every step closer to The Langham Hotel’s grand ballroom, trudging through formalities and tepid greetings in the populated hall leading to it. It was the phrase he used to justify all of this unyielding frustration at each step: listening to Sebastian as he attempted to break down the confounding science of charming a young woman into comprehensible steps, and now, burdening his already-fraught calendar with unnecessary social appearances just to put himself in Lady Y/n’s path.

Unnecessary social appearances such as The British National Society for Aid and to the Sick and Wounded in War’s annual ball in partnership with TransAtlantica—one of many charitable foundations that the shipping company partnered with. TransAtlantica covered the costs of a lavish evening and invited their extensive networks of business moguls and the aristocracy to partake in raffles throughout the formal night. All proceeds went to the medical organization, and all publicity went to the company.

Until this year, Ciel was content with having Sebastian send his regrets to TransAtlantica alongside a hefty donation to maintain goodwill. But now, maintaining goodwill with this corporation and the family behind it would no longer suffice. He needed to make a personal appearance both at the ball and in the middle of Lady Y/n’s dance card. After Y/n cooly rebuffed him after moments of light teasing Sebastian made the appropriate arrangements with one of the maids to put Ciel.

While Ciel was well aware of the stubborn reputation proceeding her, few dared take such a tone with him. And for so little. Defensive, she was! Was it such a crime to be transparent about how it was careless to step onto a street without looking both ways? If Ciel hadn’t saved her at the perfect moment— even if Sebastian orchestrated the timing — she would have been hit!

“Find Lady Y/n when it comes time for your waltz,” Sebastian reminded Ciel as they entered the ballroom, “you are only on her dance card for a single number. The point is that you make a better impression this time.” The bloody butler prodded at Ciel’s lack of romantic finesse— a talent that a sleazy demon might have in surplus. Apparently, approaching her first and taking the time to see himself onto her dance card would prove Ciel’s interest in her.

“And of course, you must remember your apology, sir,” Sebastian’s words were coated in honey, the most obvious tell of his amusement. The prospect of his master having to express his regrets. “You bruised her pride,” he explained.

In response, Ciel sent him a fleeting gaze, heavy with irritation. Exhaustion after hours of coaching and correcting, endless explanations as to why Sebastian insisted that Y/n could never connect with him properly if he failed to acknowledge her grievances.

“I will,” he answered simply, clenching his jaw at the thought of verbalizing anything along the lines of ‘I apologize.’ He never had to apologize for his actions—not ones that were truly malevolent, and certainly not ones that were decently-natured. Although it seemed the exception was for the daughters of incredibly prominent figures whom he needed to charm. So much so that Sebastian had Ciel practice the series of words in front of a mirror.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

The phrase had Ciel’s shoulders relaxing into proper posture, his tense jaw relaxing with reluctance. He took a gradual inhale in, scanning the room for Lady Y/n. He found her in moments, catching her pale green gown and its gold accents shining in the warm chandelier light. She was engaged in a jubilant exchange with the wife of Selwyn Westley, the owner of a prominent watch company.

“Very good, my Lord,” Sebastian chirped, merely watching Ciel build his resolve. He’d seen the Earl tackle a number of more threatening offenses: vengeful angels, homicidal circus clowns, and corrupt monopolists with less agonizing. “There is absolutely no time to waste,” he added in reference to the rest of TransAtlantica’s suitors (they were longshot candidates, at best) as they readied themselves among their own servants. Several men’s eyes lingered on the small dance card that hung from Lady Y/n’s wrist, looking to secure a spot in the moments before the first dance started.

It was that particular thought that had the corner of Ciel’s mouth twisting upwards, satisfied. Courtship could never be left to chance. It was a strategy— a war. How could they hope to defeat him when they couldn’t even manage to get themselves in front of her?

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N

“And that’s when I told him: I think I left them in the carriage!” Inara Johnson laughed riotously, briefly touching your arm as you laughed, mirroring the young woman’s impish grin. She had been recounting a sordid story about her courtship with her husband since it seemed your mother was quite liberal in spreading the word about your season beginning. Even still, Mrs. Johnson was quite a breath of fresh air after you suffered nine suitors trying too hard to impress you.

“I can’t imagine what you could have done without a spare change of clothing!” You managed through laughs, ignoring the pinch in your cheeks after hours of simpering and entertainment. You were only about halfway through the merriment, the orchestra completing a lively movement to start transitioning to the first waltz of the evening.

You only had a few moments to find your next suitor: Lord Ciel Phantomhive.

“I should find my husband for this waltz! I certainly hope you find yours quite soon, my Lady, I’ll be looking forward to your wedding,” she chuckled, parting with you after a playful wink.

“Enjoy the night,” you nodded, unsure of how to start your search for a faceless man as Mrs. Johnson found Mr. Johnson in seconds. He’d only been paces away, engaged with your parents about something you couldn’t quite pick up.

You took another look at your card to ensure that Ciel Phantomhive was indeed your next dance partner, but just as your gaze caught his name again, the man who pulled you from the carriage approached you. The very one that you were content with never laying eyes on again.

“Lady Y/n, just the perfect timing. Were you looking to join this waltz now?” He dared to ask, his sapphire eye just as breathtaking as it had been, his lips turning in the same mildly amused manner. Trying to appear aloof. “Or were you uninterested in sharing your time with the likes of mediocre destitution such as myself?” he asked, repeating the words you threw at him.

Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

You felt your face warm from his attempts as you fashioned your falling expression into a sparking grin. The future-Countess-of-Richmond-grin that you relied on so much. There was no losing your temper in this environment without mortifying your family name.

“Unfortunately, my dance card is full,” you answered with false kindness, feeling the young man see straight through your pleasant deception. That was one of the only lines a young noblewoman had to tell a man to leave her to her lonesome; it was well-known by all of polite society. “Perhaps another time. Though I really do need to find my next—” you started, starting to take a step to walk around him, but he side-stepped in your path.

“—After I saved your life last week, I thought you might find time for a dance,” he interjected, causing the remnants of your Countess smile to falter. “That’s why I had my butler secure this waltz with you.”

Your blood ran cold, your smile finally melting off your face. He couldn’t be…could he? It would only make sense, you supposed. A person astute enough to even impress your father.

“I was scheduled with the Earl of Phantomhive,” you forced yourself to answer placidly. You readjusted your expression, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of visibly surprising you.

“Then you found me already,” Lord Phantomhive replied, all too satisfied. You didn’t even find him! He found you!

You failed to conceal your thoughts, judging by the condescending mirth in his grin. “Shall we?”

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I— yes, I suppose we shall,” Lady Y/n cleared her throat, despite herself. She laced her arm with Ciel’s as he guided her to the center of the ballroom, more than certain that they were attracting attention, even if most people couldn’t connect his appearance to his name. The very reputation that filled a room enough to substitute his physical presence, most of the time.

Technically, he didn’t have to bow to Y/n because he outranked her, but as Sebastian insinuated, apparently Ciel needed to nurse her shallow pride.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

Taking Y/n’s hand, Ciel led her into the first steps of the waltz. She seemed more interested in studying him than starting a conversation, mechanically following the dance while her mind was elsewhere. He allowed her to dissect the performance he put on for her for a few long moments before speaking.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to extend my sincerest apologies to you, Lady Y/l/n,” Ciel said, visualizing the script that he and Sebastian formulated. He had to make the words seem genuine as if he’d given them enough thought to be considerate, but not so much that he was reciting them. He guided Y/n through a turn, feeling her back tense under his hand.

“I should have helped you find the man who took your things rather than demean you with quips that failed to land,” Ciel continued, taking her continued silence as a bid to continue. His skin crawled at his words, betrayal bristling down his spine. He didn’t apologize. It was fundamentally wrong. And yet, for TransAtlantica, he would. Perhaps this company was the Earl of Phantomhive’s only real love match. “I know I seem far from deserving, but I do hope for your forgiveness. If you give me the opportunity, I hope to show you that I can be,” he continued, fashioning a similar helpless frown that Sebastian used to appeal to frustrated women.

Y/n’s face was unchanged, the same politely engaged expression with clear notes of frustration layered beneath. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy—she was a petulant heiress unused to not having her way with people. She hummed, tilting her head as she took another moment to dissect his expression. The movement caused her long earrings to sway, drawing Ciel’s attention to the length of her neck and the complicated waves she had her hair styled in.

“You should have helped me,” Y/n agreed gruffly. “A proper gentleman would have, after all,” she mused.

Was the apology not gentlemanly enough? Ciel felt it exceeded expectations.

“I would…treasure the chance to prove myself to be a gentleman, then.” He answered, using part of a line Sebastian fed him. The demon did not have any foresight into the future, but after investigating Y/n with the intensity he would look into a criminal with, he had decent intuition regarding how these planned interactions would unfold. Sebastian accurately assumed she wouldn’t accept that apology.

“The chance to prove yourself?” Y/n repeated, her interest piqued at the proposition. Finally—a new emotion on her face besides detached politeness. “That sounds like quite the endeavor, my Lord.”

“It may very well be, should you let me accompany you on a promenade next week,” Ciel answered, watching her face redden. “If you might overlook my…” his mouth was drier than cotton, “deficiencies.”

He nearly choked on the word. Bloody Hell.

“Perhaps I might find time,” Lady Y/n answered, and Ciel’s heart soared for all the right reasons. He had a chance at the corporation, after all. It seemed acting was just as suspiciously close to lying as Sebastian had insisted.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

. . .

[cielkissrr]

cielcest + piss . . . (a drabble)

When Sirius and Ciel were young, it was obvious who was the favorite. 

Sirius was first born and the heir to the Phantomhive name, while Ciel was… Ciel. It was obvious what his fate was from the beginning. Even when he was birthed, Rachel had worried about where her secondborn son would end up. 

The secondborn gets nothing. no title, no land, no money. Nothing is given to him once he reaches 18. 

But they didn't worry about that, not at 7 years old anyway. 

instead of worrying about the future, the twins spent their time playing together and being by each others aide whenever possible. on the outside, they were adorable to everyone. 

two matching boys with beautiful blue eyes that resembled sapphires. one, the older, being protective and loving towards his brother who was sickly and shy. many cooed at how Sirius was “such a good big brother” 

they couldn't be more wrong. 

ciel wasn't aware of it either really, but Sirius was far from kind to him behind closed doors. sick fascination that came to light and dark fantasies that played out were enough to prove that as fact. 

Sirius had so much time with their father, and with that came new words and ideas only adults should be aware of. And in turn, he brought these discoveries back to his poor brother who was none the wiser as to follow. 

today was no different. 

sirius had just returned to their shared bedroom and climbed up onto the huge bed. at the head of it laid his little brother who had just been asleep but woke up from the movement. his big blue eyes peered over the covers and he coughed but smiled nonetheless. 

“I’m back, father brought over his friends again so I took a bit” Sirius explained through ragged breaths from running through the halls and climbing. 

ciel hummed and mumbled an “It's okay” before coughing again. his lungs pressed outward hard against his rib cage and pained him, causing him to wince and whine after. 

Sirius frowned and crawled towards the head of the bed. he then reached over and grabbed the cup of water there and offered it to his brother. 

“here,” he handed the cup over then pointed at the larger pitcher on the side table. “we can refill it many times so drink up! father says water will help your sickness pass faster!” he smiled brightly. 

it was a caring gesture, one that Ciel took with a small smile. he sat up and chugged the water down, letting out a sigh when he finished it all. Then, he turned and smiled at the older. 

So Sirius poured him more. 

This repeated until Ciel complained that his tummy was full and he couldn't drink anymore. Sirius nods and puts the pitcher back, smiling at how only a glass or so was left. 

he then scooted to the head of the bed and motioned for Ciel to cuddle with him. ciel happily leaned into his brother's side. 

they say together in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence and the sounds around the manor. maids doing their chores, birds outside chirping, adults in a room laughing together. 

That was until Ciel started squirming. 

It started subtly but grew quickly. He squirmed and pushed his thighs together, eventually whining and saying he needed to potty. 

Sirius smirked. 

“You can go here, I don't mind.” He offered in a sickly sweet voice. Ciel looked up at him and frowned. 

“But won't I make a mess? Miss Isabella already did laundry today..” He asked with a sad look on his face. 

 Sirius knew that he felt bad about making the maids clean up their past accidents, but with enough explanation from their father, he had thought that the younger forgotten about that. 

“It's okay, if you make a mess father and mother can have a different maid do the washing! Besides,” he started, looking down into his brother's eyes. he put on a look of faux sadness and tilted his head slightly. 

“You don't want to leave my side, right?” 

Ciel gasped and shook his head quickly. “No, never!” He grabbed onto Sirius’ shirt as if he were the one who insinuated he was leaving. “I'll stay here and hold it!” 

The tiny confidence on his baby brother's face made Sirius higgle as he trailed a hand down his body. he rested his palm right on top of the goungers stomach. 

“Why hold it? You can go, it's okay” He coaxed. He began to push down. Ciel gasped and looked back up. 

“But…the mess-” 

“The mess doesn't matter. You go here or leave me, what do you want?” Sirius said in a harsh tone, shocking his brother slightly. Ciel looked back down at the hand on his stomach and nodded. 

“I'll do it here. Sorry.” He apologized quietly. The palm pushed down more. 

“Don't apologize,” Sirius comforted, having picked these methods up from his father. soft words that he knew Ciel wanted, mixed with harsh direction and manipulation. 

“Just let go.” 

Ciel gasped again and squeezed his legs together when a small hiss could be heard. it started quietly but when Sirius forced his brother's legs open, it grew louder. 

Then came the wet spot. The little red shorts Ciel had on started to deepen to a maroon as they soaked up the pee that he let out. Sirius smiled at it, enjoying just how humiliating this must be for his brother. 

Sure enough, all that water had filled the boy's bladder entirely. before long the white sheets below them had a puddle of light yellow and ciels pants were fully soaked. 

Ciel whined again when he was done and tugged at Sirius’ hand to get off of his now-emptied stomach and bladder. 

“I went, Sirius. you can move your hand now-” Then the hand moved further down, fingertips creeping under the pants waistband. Sirius smiled. 

“I'm not done yet, dear brother.” 

[blackbutlerbrainrots]

First post!! This all started with a brainrota and ended with a full on fic😭😭😭 Anyways, there will most probably part 2

WC: 1.8K 

Now imagine this, you were the oldest daughter of the Phantomhive household. You had everything you would ever want. A caring mother, a responsible father, new set of clothes everyday and you were basically spoiled rotten. Given that you were Vincent and Rachel’s first daughter and child, Angelina (Madam Red) was very fond of you. Luckily, you didn’t inherit your mother’s asthma and that made your mother’s worries disappear. 

You were a perfect mix of Rachel and Vincent. You have your mother’s overall attitude while you have your father’s cunning and calculative mindset. 

At a young age, Vincent knew you picked up a few traits of his manipulative side. He taught you just like how he would teach himself, although not that harshly. You are after all his only daughter that he wishes to cherish. Vincent taught you all the ways he could, teaching you how to be the next Queen’s loyal guard dog. 

On the other hand, Rachel was nothing like her husband. She saw you as a child, flesh and blood, who was naive and kind. In which, you are but in her perspective, you were one of a kind child who was obedient and honest. And she would like it that way. 

Both Rachel and Vincent are somewhat isolating. Vincent knows that he should let you out of the manor but Rachel was very adamant about you staying. Lest you get dirty by all of those… nobles. 

Everything changed on your 8th birthday, where the couple announced that Rachel was pregnant. You were happy, of course! You would get another sibling that you’ve always wanted! But there was this sinking feeling deep in your chest that what if…

“What if I’m not their favorite anymore?” 

You know it was childish of you to think of that. Even if all the attention you got from your parents were to move from you to your unborn sibling. You often thought about whether you hated your sibling. After all, all the attention that you got was stolen away from you.

How wrong you were. 

You never once hated your siblings, much less your younger brothers. They were everything to you. Your parents were glad that you accepted your brother’s even with the age gap. They were relieved to know you accepted your brothers warmly. And it should’ve stayed that way. 

Until… That happened. 

Fast forward to the twin’s 10th birthday party. You grew up to be a carbon copy of your father. Whether it may be your gestures, how you talk, even all the way to how you sit. Vincent thought every time he saw you, he felt like looking at a mirror. You were just like him. Not that Vincent himself was complaining. Oh no, no, no! He was proud of you for being just like him. Although you were still just like your mom in different ways too. 

You were known in high society as the fashion queen. All the noble girls envy and admire you all the same. There was even one time where you despised a noble who was throwing a banquet and openly said;

“I’m not stepping one foot towards that… rancid place”

You said it in a calm manner. More like a threatening tone. Ever since you found out that the noble who lives there was a secret pedophile, you never wanted to go everywhere it went. 

Who knew you saying a statement will get a harsh blow into that noble's reputation? 

Not a single noble lady that was invited showed up at the designated time. And that is where it hits the Queen. You were no ordinary Lady, it would seem like it. 

And from being a spoiled Phantomhive, you were known as the Queen’s goddaughter. The Queen was very fond of you, and she makes sure it shows. 

It would seem like you had everything you ever wanted. Until that happened. 

—--------------------

You were in your room, getting ready for the twin’s 10th birthday party. You were excited to see the Twin’s reaction to your gift. You know that the younger twin has asthma, inherited from your mother. And you tried all the best ways to make sure that he was included in everything you all did as a family. 

While your personal maid was doing your hair, you both heard a loud crash outside. You were about to get up, but it seems like your maid beat you to it. 

“Stay here, my lady. I would check it out quickly and come back here as soon as possible. You already look splendid in your necklace and rings. And just look at you! You’re going to make the gentlemen swoon head over heels for you~!”

You sigh. “I sometimes envy your optimistic attitude, Lily.” The said maid giggled cheerfully. “I’ll be right back!” She said as she was leaving. You then look at the mirror in front of you. You were covered in jewels, most are probably gifts from the Queen herself.

You were left alone in your room and it was quiet. You put your hand on your forehead. “I know it should be quiet, but not this quiet, no?” You asked yourself. You often find yourself talking to yourself whenever you are alone. And you have a point there. It was a birthday party but the eerie quietness made it feel like a funeral instead. 

5 minutes…. Turns to 10 and that turns to 20..

“Just where the hell is she!?” You weren’t one to be irritated easily. But you aren’t fond of being late, especially to your younger brother’s birthday. 

You stood up from your chair to find out why she took so long. 

And you consider yourself to be smart. But that decision might’ve been the worst one you ever made. 

Outside, you saw Lily’s detached head on the stairwell. You put a hand on your mouth to prevent you from screaming. “What is going on!?” Your first thought was to make sure your younger brothers were alive and well. You tried to move quietly and swiftly but your dress makes it more difficult. 

You also found your jewelry in the way of you moving quietly so you quickly took them off. Except for your earrings and ring. They were a gift from your family so how could you ever throw it away? 

“Is mother and father safe? Are they with Ciel!?” 

You heard some voices getting closer and closer to where you were so you ran as quietly as you could in a room.

“Man, can’t we already just snatch those boys up?”

“Don’t yer get impatient now, boy! We still have to find that brat!”

You heard one of the men, who you were sure was not a servant, talk, having a deep scottish accent. You put both of you hands on your mouth to control your breathing and to prevent yourself from getting a panic attack. You couldn’t afford to get caught now. 

You heard the voices get further and further again and you sighed. Your breathing has become more steady and calm. Just as you were about to open the door-

“What a delectable birdie we findin’ today boys!” It was unexpected. “B-but I thought-!” The man giggled, it was disgusting and horrible to your ears. “You thought wrong sweetheart! Let’s get you all nice and sleepy, now, would you?”

And that was the last thing you remembered ever since you got kidnapped and was put into a slave auction a few weeks later. 

You were in a cage, a metal choker with chains to prevent you from escaping. If anyone were to see you in this state, they would have never thought that you’re a noble. Well, was once a noble, that is. Your parents are surely dead, the twins were kidnapped and you? You’re in a slave auction ready to be bought by people in this… cult. You don’t know how to explain where you are. But it was definitely a cult. A cult obsessed with your family, that is. 

You were just in this cage, all alone. You tried remembering what happened the first time you got here.

—--------------

DAY ONE

You groan as you try to sit up from the cold wet floor. Your head started pounding; ‘Just what happened?’ You tried to open one of your eyes, despite the aching of your head. 

You hissed and closed your eyes again. You don’t know where you are but it was too bright. As you tried to open your eyes slowly, you heard a voice. 

“Now ladies and gentlemen! Let me introduce you to this special specimen!” You heard some woah’s and just over all sounds of fascination. You heard the voice call out again. “Why is this specimen so special? Because this is the only and eldest daughter of the Phantomhives!” And at that, you heard shoutings.

“5 thousand!” 

“Enough! I’ll bid 100 thousand!”

“I bid 500 thousand!”

‘W-what..? What are they..’ You knew what they were doing. But perhaps you were questioning what exactly they were doing was some type of coping mechanism. You fully opened your eyes and that was the moment where you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

You were in some kind of cage and you had your wrists and ankles bound with shackles, both connected so it made it more difficult to escape. You couldn’t exactly see what’s ahead because of the cage but you could definitely see the person announcing you as if you were some kind of item to be purchased. He wore a mask for a masquerade party and had a tuxedo. What really sets him apart from all the other guests was his oddly bright red ribbon. 

He was dressed like it was a celebration. If you saw him alone, you might’ve thought it was. But it wasn’t. Because you were obviously in a…

“...A slave auction?” You questioned yourself. Even when you couldn’t hear yourself because of the loud shouts (Bidding) of the people that were wearing cloaks. And the masks. They were wearing masks. And that’s when it fully hits you. 

‘I’m the one they’re bidding for… They’re…. Buying me..’ You found yourself shaking at the thought.It was so unbelievable. Really. You couldn’t fully move because of the shackles that were bound to you. But either way, there was no escape. Too many eyes are on you. You wouldn’t really mind that most of the time. As you were the Queen’s favorite and the eldest daughter of the Phantomhives so of course eyes were on you. 

“One million!” 

“One million and 500 thousand!”

‘They really are… Do they want me that much..?’ You knew your value. Time after time again, your father always tells you about your position in high society. It was your duty to always remember your worth. And even when your father didn’t remind you, everyone reminded you. Of who you are as a whole. 

“5 million! Sold!” 

Your heart sank. Were you really worth that much? 

You heard some people grumbling in frustration. About why they didn’t bid higher or why they didn’t bought more or… 

Before you could think, you saw your now master. And that’s when realization fell on you. You aren’t the Queen’s goddaughter or the eldest Phantomhive. 

You’re now a slave and the man in front of you is now your… “You can call me Master, my belladonna.”

[elxtasy]

black butler collage and a drabble abt the twins pasted on the back

[deevotee]

They have fallen into this bed together enough times that Finny doesn't need the light to know Ciel's body anymore. He's careful, of course he is, but as soon as he's on top of the younger boy he has his lips and his hands in the spots that will make Ciel moan without being able to hold back. Maybe he's a little too quick, a little too eager, but the sound is too beautiful to not indulge them both.

A hand in Finnian's hair and one curling around his neck, fingers splayed over his label and making him shudder. "More," he hears whispered in his ear. He gives without hesitation, like he always does and always will.

When he's laid between Ciel's legs, looking up at him from between his thighs, he cannot help but think of all the things he would give up to stay here forever. Like the sunlight.

If he could knock the sun out of the sky so they would not have to go back to being servant and master in the morning, Finny would do it without remorse, without care for the flowers in the garden.

But the night will fade away eventually, so he pulls Ciel's legs tighter around him and makes the most of the time they have.

[lokabrenna-writes]

I've got a Dadbastian request! Idk if this will make sense but I had a scenario in mind where another miscellaneous demon breaks in and almost/does attack O!Ciel for his soul and his dad comes in and saves him.

Ooooh I like this one! Also the fact that Sebastian always has Ciel close his eyes when he’s in his true form because he doesn’t want Ciel to see him “so improper/unsightly” (which I translate to “my true form will probably frighten you and I can’t have you any more traumatized than you already are”), but another demon couldn’t care less. Time to traumatize my favorite character again (I’m so sorry Ciel, I promise this isn’t personal)

TW: restricted breathing/demon attack, panic attack, ptsd attack, description of Ciel’s month long capture

~~~

One of the most frightening factors of this whole ordeal, was how quickly it happened. Sebastian had just tucked him in and left him to sleep. Ciel couldn’t be sure if he had actually fallen asleep or was just about to when he felt something covering his nose and mouth.

The lack of air caused his eyes to quickly open as he felt tightness in his chest. The object restricting his breathing was a large, pitch black hand that had sharp nails that were digging into the side of Ciel’s face. The room was consumed by black smoke with blood red eyes visible all around him. He tried to scream, to call for his butler like he had countless times before, but all that could be heard were ineligible squeaks.

“Quiet.” A voice snapped, and that was the last thing Ciel heard before slipping into darkness.

~~~

There were voices whispering all around them. There were to many speaking at once for Ciel to decipher what they were saying, but the voices kept getting louder and louder. It was overwhelming. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. As the blurriness he had seen began to clear up, he felt his heart stop.

The metal of the cage was cold and rough. His clothes were dirty and worn; they did nothing to keep him from the cold that was heavy in the room. The lights were blinding and the whispering was still growing louder.

“Se-!” Ciel tried once more to call for his butler, but his voice would not speak his butler’s name.

‘Sebastian, help me! Get me out of here! This is an order, do you hear me? An order, an order, an order!’ Ciel tried to scream, but the best he could do was have the command play in his head.

Finally, the whispers began to quiet down; however, booming footsteps began to make themselves known. They belonged to a tall man whose face was hidden by the hood of his robe. The man began to speak, but Ciel could not determine what he was saying over the sound of his heart beating. He tried so hard to move, to scream, but his body would not respond to his commands. He just wanted-.

"Young Master? Can you hear me?" Sebastian's voice cut through the noise. Ciel wasn't sure if his mind was playing a trick or not, but he would grasp on to any glimmer of hope.

'Sebastian!' Ciel tried once more to speak, but the best he could do was let out another squeak followed by coughing.

"My apologies, I'm afraid this will be most unpleasant." Sebastian's voice said. Ciel didn't see how anything could be worse than his current situation.

Ciel felt something he could not see wrap around him and pull him forward. Yet, his body was not moved, his soul was. He felt like he had been ripped out of his body. Lights flashed, the world was moving past him at the speed of light, noises rotated in volume, and the world around him was freezing cold.

Suddenly, the world around him came to a crashing halt and his screams finally left his mouth. He could feel an arm holding him to a familiar chest as the other hand strokes through his hair.

"Shhh, it's alright. You're alright."

Sebastian words did little to sooth him. His tears flowed and screams rang through the manor, causing the other servants to rush to his room.

“Bloody hell! What happened in here?!” Bard yelled in shock.

The curtains had been ripped from the wall, the window was shattered, books and various other items were thrown about the floor, and the bedding was ripped to shreds. In other words, Ciel’s bedroom had been destroyed.

“I’m afraid the Young Master had a late night visitor. As you can see, said visitor was less than pleasant.” Sebastian explained before turning back to Ciel.

“Let’s get you somewhere acceptable.” Sebastian said, cradling Ciel to his chest has he moved to leave the room. Ciel had managed to stop screaming, but was still hyperventilating and would not remove his face from where it was buried in the crook of Sebastian’s neck. However, it was probably best that he didn’t see the full extent of his damaged room.

“If the three of you could begin cleaning this up, it would be a big help.” Sebastian said as he shut the door behind him.

Sebastian made his way to the sitting room in a calming silence (which was soon broken by Bard’s yell of, “Who the hell has this many eyes?!”).

Once Sebastian reached the sitting room, he attempted to place Ciel in his chair. Ciel made his displeasure of the attempt clear by tightening his hold on Sebastian and shaking his head.

“Alright, alright. I suppose we’ll just stay like this for the time being.” Sebastian murmured. Silence fell between the two again.

While Ciel was too shaken to feel anything other than fear, Sebastian felt awkward. In his defense, demons aren’t exactly known for comforting children. He didn’t have any experience when it came to children outside of his current contract. The best he could think to do was to attempt to mimic what the parents in the stories he often read to Ciel would do. He did make a note to mimic the good parents instead of the evil ones.

“There, there. It’s over now.” Sebastian said while using a hand to cradle the back of Ciel’s head.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

After a moment, Ciel finally removed his head from where it was buried in Sebastian’s neck and looked up at him. He had calmed down, but a few stray tears still fell.

“Is that what it’s going to be like?"

"What do you mean, my lord?" Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When you take my soul... Is that what's going to happen?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I can't lie, so I won't say that you will be exempt from any and all pain; however, it will be nothing like that." Sebastian hesitated for a moment before adding, "I promise."

Ciel briefly studies Sebastian before deciding to believe him.

"Okay." Ciel finally said as he again rested his head on Sebastian's shoulder.

No more words were spoken between them. They stayed like that for about an hour before Tanaka knocked on the door to inform them that the mess had been dealt with. Sebastian carried Ciel back to his room and attempted to place him back into his bed, but Ciel had other plans. He shook his head and tightened his grip on Sebastian again. The message was clear, "I don't want to be in here."

Sebastian thought for a moment before deciding to take Ciel to one of the guest bedrooms. Despite how shaken Ciel may be, he's still a human and needs to at least get 8 hours of sleep. The last thing Sebastian wanted to deal with was a sleep deprived master.

Luckily for Sebastian, Ciel seemed to be content in the guest bedroom and was willing to try to sleep. The only condition was that Sebastian had to stay and watch over him for the rest of the night.

Luckily for Ciel, Sebastian had already planned to watch over him.

~~~

Sorry this took awhile to finish, I had a few different ideas and it took a bit to choose one 😅

I hope you liked the story, Anon! And for anyone else reading who may have enjoyed, please send me any requests if you have them (I get bored in class a lot 😂) 💜💜💜

[hobbit-in-kuroshitsuji]

Kuroshitcember 2022 Prompt Nr. 1

Prompt: Sebastian delivers a letter to his master

You can find all prompts here!

All of these will be uploaded/archived to this blog's Ao3 eventually

Summary: Sebastian delivers a letter and "afternoon sweets" to his young master begrudgingly. His mummy instincts kick in without the demon being aware of it. CW: none! aside from the fact that this is a first draft, sorry for any mistakes... oh and, avoid if you don't like dad/mum-Sebastian I suppose? I may or may not have hinted at a story I'm working on within this, and I may or may not have strayed from the prompt A LOT whilst writing this adkjehaj once I start writing mumbastian I can't stop

With a knock and a smile displayed on his human lips, Sebastian entered the young master’s office. In his hands, the butler held a tray holding a letter, and delicious sweets for his master’s requested… “afternoon sweets”.

That was not a genuine thing nobles had.

But Ciel was also still a child.

The demon’s aesthetic – one hell of a butler - required Sebastian to uphold any requests the young master had, even if those requests came at a stupendously ignorant timing such as two hours before dinner.

His young master never specified that day, though, what snacks he wanted. The routine of getting a nice, sugary snack had become such a regular occurrence that Ciel had gotten lazy with specifying the order. However, Sebastian knew if he entered with fruit, Ciel wouldn’t take it. He’d probably throw it at Sebastian, in all honesty. So…

He’d coated the fruit with a layer of dark, bitter chocolate to make it look like sweets.

It was partly healthy, and wouldn’t ruin the young master’s appetite for later.

“Your afternoon snack, my lord.”

Ciel was sat at his desk, feet up on the table, staring up at the chandelier which Sebastian kept completely dust free. He was bored, finished with work early – as usual.

“What is it?” Ciel asked in a monotone voice.

Sebastian was a demon. Lying came easy to him. But he had promised the young master never to lie to him… “An assortment of sweet goods, my lord. Shaped like fruit.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He had chosen grapes, strawberries, cherries – those were sweet fruits. And… well, they were shaped like fruit.

Of course, he could have simply said it was fondue, but grapes weren’t used for fondue… and… the mansion didn’t have a lot of fruit…

That was the young master’s doing.

“That… is new.” No longer bored, Ciel lowered his gaze to glance at the tray Sebastian moved over onto his desk. “They…” Ciel stared down at the “sweets”, seemingly breathless all of a sudden.

“Master?” Sebastian asked with a quirked brow.

“My mother used to bring me these. Although, with her, they were always real fruits underneath.” A small, sad smile appeared on Ciel’s lips. “She didn’t like me snacking on unhealthy things.” He grabbed one of the strawberries, unaware of Sebastian watching with intense eyes. The implication of Sebastian having done the same- no, Sebastian ignored it.

This boy was such a bother… Never before had a contract made Sebastian question his own internal chemistry, also known as emotions.

Ugh.

“How very darling of your mother. Perhaps she didn’t wish you to snack before dinner and ruin your appetite,” Sebastian voiced with an innocent smile, despite the sass present in his voice.

Ciel glared and dropped the fruit. “Whatever.”

“We also received a letter, sir.” With a slight bow, Sebastian offered the letter to Ciel. The bored boy took it and started opening it with a letter opener, leaning back into his chair again.

Silence ensued within the office as Ciel read the letter: “Who is Trancy?”

“I have no idea, my lord,” Sebastian offered with a genuine tone to his voice. “Although the name does ring a bell…”

“Well, we’re invited to a yule ball.” With an annoyed sigh, Ciel flicked the letter to the side. It dangled down to the floor where it stayed until Mey-Rin would clean the office.

Taking the hint that his young master was not going to attend the ball, Sebastian prepared the tray to leave again and continue supervising Bard – or rather, taking over when Bard inevitably screwed up.

“Dinner will be ready in two hours,” Sebastian said with a bow of his head to leave.

Ciel waved him off, not glancing his way as he focused his sudden eager gaze onto the sweets – much more interesting to him than a noble’s festivities. “Thank you, mother-“

Both demon and boy stopped in their tracks, wide eyes staring at each other in shock.

“I-“ Shocked, Ciel opted to glare and slam his hand down onto his desk. “You didn’t hear that.”

“Very well, master,” Sebastian offered with an attempt at a neutral look on his face.

Huh…

“Now leave. I don’t want to see you until dinner.” There was an evident blush on Ciel’s cheeks which Sebastian had learned a long time ago meant humans were embarrassed. He could smell it too along with Ciel’s temperature rising as an embarrassed sweat broke out.

Not saying anything else, Sebastian ignored it – along with his own thoughts and feelings.

How obnoxious. A demon mother would never feed their spawn fruit coated in chocolate. If their spawn didn’t feed at what was offered, they were left to die.

Offended, Sebastian closed the door just in time for Ciel to bite into one of the “sweets” and realise –

“SEBASTIAN!”

Smirking, Sebastian left. The young master had said, after all, that he didn’t want to see him again until dinner.

He would have to eat what was offered by Sebastian if he was hungry.

__

taglist: @eemoo1o-animoo

[raileurta]

Role reversal

I've been getting back into Black Butler recently and I have yet to see a role reversal au. I don't know why no one hasn't done it yet; it's such a missed opportunity for dynamic exploration and jokes.

Like imagine demon Ciel carrying around human Sebastian because he's hurt, but since Sebastian is much taller than him it just looks ridiculous.

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a Black butler request if you don’t mind! (It can be yandere but If you can make it not to noticeable??? If that makes sense.)

If I may could I request a Ciel Phantomhive x Cruella De Vill reader? I mean not exactly like Cruella but the fact she was born with hair spilt between black and white, she owns multiple Dalmatians which are really aggressive guard dogs for her. And she has a wonderful sense of fashion, even though most her clothes are only black, white or red. She even has a nickname that combines her name and Cruel together (like “Cruel-(/N)”) because she can be really honest and it comes off as rude. She is short temper but unlike Cruella she is only occasionally sassy but most of the time she is quiet because she used to get made fun of for her hair.

Also I was hoping it would be a oneshot, with a few hc. But if that’s to much it can just be hc! Thank you and have a nice day!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I hope I did this rq justice because I absolutely loved it. Detailed rqs my beloveds. As you ask, I did some hcs and then wrote a little drabble, though I do apologize for such delay in answer it. Hope you like darling <33

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic content. Maybe typos too.

☆*: In Ciel's ears, the news of a figure with two-tone hair who only dresses in black and red reaches him through gossip that Lau felt the need to share. The rumors, however, were not enough to capture the earl's attention at first. Who cares if Londoners are talking about this girl because she acts different and has a sharp tongue? Who cares if she has some protective dogs who can attack on command?

☆*: Certainly not Ciel. He has better things to worry about being the Queen's Watchdog besides running his own company. Gossip and rumors are not something that holds his attention unless they are related to the murderers who killed his parents.

☆*: So it takes a while before you finally get to know each other and he can get a glimpse of your strong genius. And heavens, he's enchanted, even if he doesn't know it, feelings aren't Ciel's thing. One thing he knows, this night will be one he would never forget.

...

Reluctantly, Ciel was participating in the celebration. A glass of juice in his hand as he watched each of the nobles approach the throne, kneel and say their rehearsed congratulations. So typical of nobles, so insincere. He hated it here, he could be doing so many things right in the comfort of his office. Still, he smiled and played his part when all adults around him looked down on him just because he was the only child here.

The starry night became filled with light and laughter; The Queen was throwing a party to celebrate another birthday well spent. Her age-kissed skin was still glowing, her eyes carrying a tinge of unforgettable joy, and her voice a jovial tone. As usual, she sat on her throne and waited for one by one the nobles to greet and boast about the gifts that were certainly better than the others.

It was funny to watch though. They all just seemed like jealous peacocks, huffing and puffing their feathers, wanting the queen attention on them.

Sebastian when can we leave? was what he wanted to ask to the butler at his side. What he almost asked. But right at that moment he heard a commotion.

A few meters ahead stood the notorious Cru-y/n DeVil, your presence commanding attention. Ciel couldn't help but be drawn to you, his gaze fixating on you with a mixture of intrigue and caution. Despite your reputation, he couldn't deny your beauty, a striking contrast to the darkness that surrounded your name. You were young, much like himself, yet exuded a confidence that belied your age, almost as if you too had to grown fast to protect yourself.

You seemed to be fighting a much older and powerful woman. The duchess who was always looking to fight someone and today had just found her new victim. But you aren't having any of that, making exaggerated gestures and smiling mockingly at the duchess.

Ciel observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, at least the party turned out to be entertaining with this little fight happening and the queen was also watching you two too intently, curious, not at all bothered by it. Ciel couldn't help but roll his eyes when the duchess continued to argue and pointed her finger at you.

"Your hat is adorable" You say in a loud and clear tone, with the sweetest smile you can produce. "I'm sure it was worth sacrificing Big Bird, its poor beautiful yellow feathers wasted on this hat that perfectly fit your head."

A murmur starts around the two of you, some are laughing loudly, others are whispering among themselves, repeating what you said. The duchess, wanting to appear strong and resilient, fixes her khaki yellow hat - that barely fits in her head, lifts her chin an extra millimeter and leaves. However, Ciel knew that your comment would still haunt her for months to come. Today she had lost a fight and was insulted.

Undeniable was that the hat was horrendous.

Holding back a laugh that seems to want to escape him anyway, Ciel takes off his hat in greeting to you as soon as your eyes meet. He understood now why everyone was talking about you so much. To the court you were like a fresh breath of air, devastating if you hate it, great if you like it. And he absolutely like it. Not a lot of younger aristocrats behave this way and he really needs someone different to spend time, as Elizabeth is quite overwhelming with her affection and Sullivan is busy.

He approach you and with this gesture, plans to know more about you. He is now curious and his curiosity must be satisfied.

[pain-in-the-butler]

Dadbastian Week Day 6/7: Needed Advice and Setting Sun

Happy final day of Dadbastian week, my fellow fans. This was a wild ride, and I had so much fun seeing all the creations everyone came up with to celebrate! It may be the end of the seven days, but you can certainly expect more Dadbastian content from me in the future regardless. Let's keep the party going 😎

This "drabble" was better intended for yesterday's prompt, but I sort of shoehorned in a sunset so that I could post this on the final day. I would have liked to craft a story for each day of Dadbastian week, but sometimes that's life! And at 5.2k, this one's length is basically worth two prompts anyway.

No major warnings needed, but perhaps a small note that this story takes place when Ciel is still only ten years old. He engages in some regressive behavior as a way of coping with his trauma, and Sebastian handles the situation very Sebastianly. So it feels weird to say enjoy but uh... enjoy!

How many souls had Sebastian devoured in the centuries before he met this one?

Two or three hundred, approximately. But how many of them had stood out as especially worthy? Perhaps one or two – and those experiences were not so remarkable. Merely different from the norm. Ask a human every meal they’d eaten over the course of their measly lifetime. Even they would laugh. Impossible! They could scarcely remember what they’d eaten last week. Perhaps a particularly delectable trifle or perfectly roasted guinea fowl would stand out. But would even a hundred meals? Of course not. Don’t be silly.

How old was Sebastian? Perhaps as old as the universe; perhaps as old as the wheel. He was amorphous. Time did not mark him with crow’s feet and gray hair. Time had no power over him at all, and Sebastian did not need to consider it. It was a concept built for mortals. And though Sebastian had a vague idea of how long he had been a greater demon, of the moment he had stopped lapping up other demons’ scraps and began forming contracts of his own, such knowledge didn’t intrigue him. The only span of time that had ever mattered was “soon.” When was his next meal? Soon. Always soon, because humans were easy to please and easy to trick, and Sebastian was well-suited for pleasure and trickery.

It had been over a month since Sebastian had thought the word “soon.”

Today marked the hundredth day of his contract with “Ciel” Phantomhive, a ten-year-old boy who was, without question, the youngest person Sebastian had ever played the shadow of. Ten years old: why, ten years was nothing to a demon. In the amount of time it had taken Ciel to merely exist, Sebastian had done nothing but sit patiently waiting for the right moment to strike, to bargain with just the right human. A hundred days ago, he and his future meal at last crossed paths.

This is the most curious and enticing soul I have found so far, Sebastian remembered thinking that day, and it will be mine in mere moments. For how could a frail, wounded, sniveling orphan possibly take longer to cultivate than a monarch, or a prodigy, or a megalomaniac?

Sebastian denounced them all. They were games, comparatively, to this real test of will he was engaged in now. For yesterday’s orphan was today’s earl, and the guidelines of this contract would not allow for a swift victory. Though Sebastian had never known hunger so intimately before this contract, now he was also getting to know patience – and hunger and patience would work together to transform this soul into a dining experience Sebastian had never known the likes of before.

And yet... often Sebastian found himself thinking, This is the soul clever enough to test my cunning? This is the one?

For the boy was still just that: a boy. And the boy’s childish habits were still so wildly out of control, it was a wonder he had ever been a noble’s son.

“You’ve been picking at your skin again,” Sebastian scolded at bathtime when he noticed the little pink marks freckling those skinny arms. “You mustn’t do that. The areas could become infected.”

“Young master. Are you listening to me?” Ciel’s gaze would often drift to the window in the middle of a lesson. “Repeat what I just said. …Yes, that’s what I thought. Pay attention.”

“Leave that alone,” Sebastian said when Ciel would play with the string of his eye patch.

“You must sit still,” Sebastian said at dinnertime and teatime and any time Ciel was in a chair.

“Rings stay on your fingers, unless you’re sealing an envelope.”

“Look me in the eye.”

“Stop tapping your foot.”

“Sit up straight.”

“No fidgeting.”

“Smaller bites.”

“Don’t yawn.”

“Don’t scratch.”

“And take that out of your mouth this instant.”

That last sentiment was by far the most awful one to consider, and, alas, the most persistent. In the privacy of his own home, Ciel chewed on things relentlessly: his fingers, his nails, his own hair, a pen he might be holding. His teeth, still a subtle mismatch of adult and milk teeth, longed to keep busy. When he wasn’t eating, they sought out other objects to masticate and weren’t picky about what that object happened to be.

“Are you a rodent?” Sebastian asked him one afternoon when he caught Ciel nibbling at his own sleeve.

Ciel blinked at him. “What?”

“Or a teething puppy?”

Ciel blushed angrily. “No.”

“Then I can think of no reason why you should be unable to keep your clothing out of your mouth,” Sebastian said distastefully.

Ciel glowered at him and stopped in the meantime. But the chewing was incessant. He always went back to it as soon as he thought Sebastian’s back was turned.

“I struggle to comprehend,” Sebastian confided to Tanaka one evening, “how the young master got away with such deplorable behaviors while he was growing up.”

Tanaka looked at Sebastian sadly from the servant’s table. The two were in the kitchen, Tanaka drinking green tea while Sebastian stood at the counter, polishing silver. “The young master did not have such persistent habits before you knew him… I believe this developed during that month he spent alone. That month we know so little about.” Tanaka pressed his fingers into the warm ceramic of the yunomi cup, staring into its depths. “There are three empty spaces in his heart now… and for a boy so young, it’s hard to know how to fill such space except with distraction. We must be gentle with him.”

But “gentle” took patience, and gentle took time, and there was no reason to spend it when a smart rap on the wrist would do just as well at a fraction of the speed.

Most of Ciel’s habits had been defeated with a rap on the wrist. The chewing was not so easily thwarted. What was worse, after a week of testing various objects in his mouth, Ciel seemed to have decided that the hems of his sleeves were his top choice. Sebastian’s irritation grew when he saw the state of Ciel’s shirt one evening before bed, the sleeves crimped and wrinkled from what seemed to be a whole day’s worth of suckling.

“This is flagrantly infantile,” he hissed lightly as he gripped his charge by the forearm. Ciel was looking hard at the floor and flushing with defiance. “What should anyone think of an earl with such deplorable attire? You’d do better without teeth than with sleeves like this.”

“It’s not like I do it in front of anyone!” Ciel argued with a heat that came from embarrassment.

Sebastian’s frown quirked. “It is pathetic to defend this behavior. You will stop, or there will be consequences.”

Ciel snorted, smirking now. “Consequences? What are you going to do? Hit my palms with a ruler till they bleed?” It was clear the boy wanted to recover some dignity. “You can’t stop me. I might have a bad habit, but I bet you don’t really know how to stop me from doing this.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I?”

“Well then, what are you going to do about it?” Ciel shot back.

The butler hesitated, then started unbuttoning the young master’s shirt up by its rounded collar. “Continue this charade, and perhaps I shall have to decide.”

“When we were younger and Edward would do something wrong, I remember Aunt Francis would take away his pocket money,” Ciel continued matter-of-factly as Sebastian slipped the nightgown over his master’s small head. “But you can’t take my money away from me. And you can’t force me to stay in my room until I repent, like my parents would.”

“No, perhaps not,” was Sebastian’s even answer.

“Well, good luck, then!” Ciel challenged, and Sebastian could swear that just before he extinguished the candle and turned to leave, the rotten brat was bringing his sleeve toward his mouth for a repeat performance.

It was clear Ciel thought he had won. Let him think that. It would only make the consequences of his actions all the more shocking.

▬▬▬▬▬ι═════════════ ☼ ═════════════ι▬▬▬▬▬

In England, the bird pepper was best known for its importance in making the highest quality cayenne. It was a thin, red capsicum that shone as bright as a warning. The human stomach knew no particulars: surely this coloration was nature’s way of advertising danger, but humans were the one species that delighted in spice, cultivated it, and celebrated the flavor of this irritating chemical. Sebastian was not sure if he found this act unnaturally stupid or minutely impressive. But it meant he would have easy access to the drought that would curb his master’s behavior.

Once delivered to the manor, the capsicums promptly had their piths removed and jarred in water to soak for a few days. The water took on a slightly orange quality, but was diluted with a bit more water until it was nearly clear. Finally, that water was painted on the sleeves of one of Ciel’s nightshirts using a basting brush and left hanging for another day until perfectly dry and unassuming.

Between the night Sebastian had decided on his plan and the evening he was able to execute it, Ciel’s habit had somewhat abated, but only somewhat. Sebastian’s warnings had grown sharper, and thus Ciel’s emotions towards the warnings had become more dramatic in response. He would grow absentminded, his eyes glossing over in the middle of a lesson, and then he’d automatically fall into his old pattern. Sebastian would rebuke, “Stop that,” whenever he caught the young master in the act, and Ciel would startle back to reality with a fleeting look of bewilderment. Then the shame and contempt would take over, and Ciel would shoot his butler such a scathing glare that Sebastian felt no sympathy whatsoever for what would soon come to pass.

“I must advise you, young master, not to go about biting your sleeves after I leave the room tonight,” Sebastian said at bedtime as the hands were threaded through the innocuous, soft pajama sleeves with perhaps only the slightest aroma of scarlet truth. “I will know if you have disobeyed; I have my ways. You must understand that it’s for your own good that I do whatever it takes to stop you.”

Ciel’s watchful eyes fell to the floor, and his shoulders slumped. For a moment, he looked just like the child that he was. “I’m trying, all right? It’s hard.”

“Ridiculous,” Sebastian huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “If your sleeve is in your mouth, take it out. This is all that you have to do. You would really have me believe such a thing is hard?”

“As if a damn demon would understand!” Ciel whined, though his face looked red again. “It’s not… Ugh, never mind! I’m trying, so you can stop treating me as if I’m not already!”

“If you really are trying, then I have faith that tonight will be different,” Sebastian said, with just a single thread of slyness stringing together his words as he pulled away the covers and draped them back over the curled-up troublemaker. “And who knows, you may just be rewarded if you manage to follow through.”

“... What kind of reward will I get?” Ciel asked.

Sebastian paused briefly at Ciel’s look of earnest curiosity. The ‘reward’ he’d meant was really ‘a lack of punishment.’ Would a reward actually be a worthy incentive when the boy was misbehaving? “We shall discuss it in the morning, but only if you manage to keep your sleeves away from your teeth all night. That is the first obstacle. Now then, will you be needing anything else before bed?”

Ciel stuffed his hands beneath his pillow. “No.”

“Very good. Then… I wish you luck, and goodnight.”

The light in the room was snuffed out. Sebastian left and went immediately to the kitchen to prepare the glass of milk. He had no faith the sleeves would remain untouched for very long. Mortals were driven by instinct, even to their own detriment. It was any wonder they managed to exist as a species. They could not go without their little vices. Even Ciel, who was too young and too coddled to have ever been introduced to alcohol or tobacco, had come up with a crutch all on his own. Sebastian snickered under his breath as he poured the cold milk into the teacup from the bottle he’d kept cool in the pantry. A human struggling to escape his own nature, also made to feel guilty for his own nature… Sebastian couldn’t lie and tell himself it wasn’t a positively delicious notion.

And yet… a full hour passed by with no outcry. Sebastian was minutely surprised. He had kept the cup of milk ready to deliver as he went about tidying up the kitchen for the end of the day. But eventually he had to admit to himself that the young master must have fallen asleep without indulging in his habit. Sebastian tutted as he poured the undrunk milk back into its bottle. He hadn’t meant to look forward to it, but it was a little boring to consider that his plan wouldn’t unfold after all… Oh well. Perhaps now was the time for some of the more encompassing chores Tanaka had warned him came with spring. Apparently replacing all of the winter curtains in the manor with a muslin set was only one such nuisance to consider…

It was two a.m. that brought the scream.

Sebastian knew this scream well. It was not the disgusted surprise of a boy who had tasted something unappealing, but the anguish of a soul bursting free from a nightmare. It was a sound all too familiar in this household. Sebastian dropped what he was doing to attend it at once. But perhaps he had been too unhurried all the same, because along the way, an actual summons was issued as well, then again, with all the persistence of a lost little lamb.

The lamps in their sconces flared to life as Sebastian entered the sitting area of the master bedroom. “I am here, young master. There is no need to call for me twice. I can guarantee you will be heard no matter how quiet you must be.”

Sebastian strode to the bedside casually nonetheless. He was never too harried in these cases. They were nearly always the same. Ciel would be hiding in a cave of his own blankets. Sebastian would produce a few whimsical promises for closeness, for security. Ciel would eventually drift back off and never mention their encounter in the morning. But tonight, the script was not being followed.

Ciel was sitting outside of the covers. He was bolt upright and rubbing at his face abrasively with his sleeves. “My eyes,” he said in a voice that was liquid and hollow. “S-Something is wrong with my eyes.”

Sebastian felt his insides give a lurch. Suddenly this was serious.

“Drop your hands at once.” He didn’t wait for the command to be followed. He snagged the little wrists and pulled them away. Ciel stared at him with wide, blinking eyes that were fringed pink with irritation. Sebastian clucked his tongue, disapproving. “Ah, look at this mess… What ever were you doing this for?”

Ciel’s face lit with the terror of an innocent. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything! My eyes just started burning, and they won’t stop no matter what I do!” Ciel struggled in his butler’s grip, desperate to touch and rub and unwittingly worsen the situation. “It hurts, let me go—”

“Settle yourself down. Or am I unable to leave you alone for even a mere moment to retrieve the antidote for your suffering?” Sebastian said sternly. Exasperated, he freed one hand to pull the handkerchief from his lapel pocket. “If you must touch your eyes, do so with this. Your sleeves are the issue, so do not return to them. Do you understand me?”

Ciel was already busy grinding the clean cloth into his eye sockets. When Sebastian repeated himself, the young master immediately whined, “Yes, I get it, just help me already!”

To be so ungrateful when he’s at the mercy of whoever will come to his aid… Sebastian snorted a breath as he returned to fetch the milk from the kitchen. It was serving a different purpose than Sebastian had expected… and though it wasn’t as perfect a solution here as it was for taste buds, it certainly had to be better than that horrid paste of lead sugar and rainwater that other humans seemed to think was an acceptable cure for ocular inflammation. He returned with it and a clean cloth in less than a minute.

Ciel was still pressing the handkerchief into his eyes with both palms as if it would do any good. “Allow me to see now.” Sebastian pulled the child's hands away from his face without waiting. Ciel made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat and swatted off the manhandling. There was a brief tussle of arms as both fought for control of the situation, but when the cold relief of the milk-soaked cloth touched his lids, Ciel froze beneath his butler's hand. The tantrum became a forgotten thing. All at once, Ciel sat as still and silent as a fawn while Sebastian dabbed at his eyes with salve.

Finally. Sebastian sighed loudly in relief. “There, there we are. Isn’t that better?”

“... What’s wrong with me…?” Ciel’s voice was thin and exhausted, the tension of a crisis at last flooding out of him.

Sebastian put on a wry grin. “If you hadn’t been indulging in your chewing habit, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said as he continued to tend to the site. “I soaked your sleeves in capsicum water a few days ago, so that if you tried putting them in your mouth when I had my back turned, the taste would repel you and I would know what you had done.”

“H-Huh…?” Ciel was half-awake and still working through his fear. “You… You did this?”

“You did this,” Sebastian corrected. “I was only trying to help you with your habit, and now here we are… Ah, but what were you rubbing your face for? This was not supposed to end up in your eyes.” A new, clean section of the cloth was selected and dipped in the milk.

Ciel stared at Sebastian, puzzled, bewildered. “This happened because of you?” His voice was picking up understanding, alongside volume.

“How could I expect that you would touch your eyes?” Sebastian huffed in exasperation. Ciel leaned away when he came at him with the cloth this time. “Young master, honestly…”

“Let me do it myself!” Ciel snatched the fabric away and began treating his own eyes, which were still rimmed in pink and watering in the aftermath. Sebastian watched him, narrowing his gaze. What a pathetic scene. The boy looked as miserable as a child who hadn’t gotten his way at a game and, in a show of disapproval at the injustice of life, let out a great bout of crocodile…

… tears.

“... The young master was having a bad dream before all of this, yes?” Sebastian asked.

Ciel had the entire upper half of his face hidden in the cloth now. “What do you care?”

“You were touching your eyes with your sleeves because you were crying.” No need to ask this time.

Ciel’s shoulders seized up. “Wh-What does it matter why I did it! It’s my clothing! I can do whatever I want with it! I don’t need to explain myself to you…” Then, with his eyes still covered by the cloth, Ciel dug down with his chin, slipped it beneath the collar of his pajamas, and clenched the material between his teeth to begin chewing.

Even after all this drama, he hasn’t given it up.

With nothing left in his arsenal, Sebastian simply observed for a moment in defeat. The boy was pressing a milk-soaked cloth to his face while gnawing the front of his nightclothes and sniveling relentlessly. It was no proud moment for either of them. Right now, they were not Earl and butler at all. They were again rendered the child and demon of their earliest days.

What was left to be done? Shaming his charge hadn’t done any good in destroying the habit, nor had this punishment. It was forcing Sebastian to assess if shame had really ever been useful to him beyond acting as a seasoning for a soul. It hadn’t changed this situation at all. Nothing Sebastian had tried so far had. If he wanted something to change, he had to try a different method. But what method would that even be? And how would that method serve to flavor the soul?

Sebastian did not have a clue. This was entirely new ground.

… Hmm. Something new.

Interesting.

“Let me take a look at your eyes now.” Sebastian nudged Ciel’s hands until they were finally lowered. The irritation was ebbing. Fortunate, but it made sense too: there couldn’t have been very much dried capsicum juice in those sleeves, really. “The skin looks improved. We should flush with water now instead.”

Ciel’s own personal irritation hadn’t gone anywhere. He said nothing, but he radiated anger and humiliation in equal measure from his person. Sebastian rinsed the cloth in the bathroom sink and returned with it still damp to press into the young master’s eyes next. Ciel sat and received this treatment like a kitten with raised hackles being bathed by his mother. This thought warmed Sebastian to the caretaking quite astoundingly.

Ciel let the collar of his shirt fall from his mouth to speak. “You can never do something like this to me again. Such tricks are barbaric and unacceptable for a butler.” His fingers were spread wide and nails clenching into the mattress as his pain was tended to.

Sebastian hummed a laugh. “So I will not. But surely this habit of yours must come to an end either way. How would you suggest I help you if not with force?”

Ciel grit his teeth. “If you don’t know what to do, then don’t do anything! Just leave me alone! If I just do this in private, who am I hurting anyway?”

“Your clothing and your reputation, certainly…” Sebastian mumbled. Ah, right; no more shame. “However, I have noticed that you only do this when no one but myself is watching. Thus, you clearly understand that this isn’t acceptable behavior.”

Ciel lowered his chin. “O-Of course I know… I just keep doing it without thinking about it…”

That was surprising. Sebastian took the towel away. “Really. It is involuntary?”

Ciel blinked starrily in the lamplight. He glanced down at the bed. “Sort of.”

“You do not mean to do it, nor want to?” 

“I don’t mean to start…” Ciel furrowed his brow. “But when I notice I’m doing it, I don’t stop either.”

Hmm. “Why do you want to do this?” Sebastian had trouble keeping confusion out of his voice. “It is very unlike you and it is quite unseemly. Lady Midford would have a fit if she knew.”

Mortification washed over Ciel’s expression at the mention of aunt. “I don’t want to do this,” he explained hastily. “It’s just that I can’t stop. It feels good for some reason.” And then Ciel nearly put his sleeve in his mouth again, but flinched away at Sebastian’s warning. “See! I don’t mean to!” he cried, blushing again. He looked at Sebastian helplessly, indignantly, from the tops of his eyes. “I don’t mean to, all right… I don’t mean to…”

Sebastian was very surprised. All this time, the two of them were on the same page. Ciel didn’t like the behavior either. He was simply at its mercy. Was that why shaming him had had no effect? Because it was already a matter of shame, not a matter of pride?

And — granted the previous was the case — if shame removed pride, then would pride remove shame?

There was only one way to find out.

“Let us get you into a new nightshirt,” Sebastian said. Ciel opened his mouth, and Sebastian interjected, “There will be no tricks this time. It is late, and the important thing now is getting you back to sleep so that tomorrow’s schedule isn’t a wreck. If you chew your sleeves tonight, then so be it. We will work out a new strategy in the morning.”

The boy’s posture slumped. “… Mmn. Fine.”

Ciel was subdued as the pajamas were swapped out. He kept touching his eyes, which were improved but likely rather dried out from their ordeal. He looked like he wanted to be angry still but wasn’t sure how to go about expressing it in this circumstance. As usual, he had no choice but to rely on the being that would one day claim his soul, and it likely left him feeling disturbed. Sebastian at least knew that much from prior contracts. What he didn’t know was what their ‘new strategy’ for stopping the sleeve-biting was going to be.

“Would you still want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” Sebastian offered as he walked his charge back to bed.

Ciel climbed delicately onto the enormous mattress that was meant for a married couple, not a single small child. He rubbed his contract eye and glared at Sebastian with the blue one. “Fine. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy with you,” he said at last. “You’re going to make up for this stupid prank. It was cruel. It goes completely against a ‘butler’s aesthetic,’ or however it is you put it.”

Sebastian narrowed his gaze but decided to concede. They shouldn’t fight anymore right now. “… Perhaps you are right. I went too far today.” 

“You definitely went too far.” The boy might’ve meant to sound angry but it came out as more of a plea.

Sebastian stood against the wall and waited for Ciel to tuck himself back into bed before extinguishing the light from the room. “Tomorrow, we will discuss a plan. Until then… I hope you are able to dream pleasantly. Goodnight, young master.”

Ciel curled up in bed. He stayed awake for longer than usual, nearly half an hour. But eventually there was a very careful shifting sound, and Sebastian registered that Ciel must be chewing his sleeves again. As promised, Sebastian did not put an end to the behavior, and very soon after the habit started up, the young master slipped off to sleep.

This proved that the action soothed him. It wasn’t just mindless incivility: it served a purpose, even for a half-grown child. How fascinating… and yet, it certainly could not continue. The soul of a wretched little orphan was no worthy meal. If Sebastian wanted to dine on the soul of a confident earl who left childhood behind him and never looked back, it meant Sebastian had to do whatever it took to instill that confidence. Even if that included being kind and understanding — temporarily, of course.

So then: where to begin?

▬▬▬▬▬ι═════════════ ☼ ═════════════ι▬▬▬▬▬

“Oh, goodness… Young master, do hold still for a moment. You’ve just managed to sully your right cuff with frosting.”

At the prompting of his butler, thirteen-year-old Ciel Phantomhive did not hold still. He instead curved his wrist around to analyze the situation for himself. “Oh, blast. Well, I had better not waste perfectly good chocolate.” Assessment complete, the boy unceremoniously opened his mouth and lipped the swath of frosting right off.

Sebastian could not refrain from grimacing. “Young master, must you forget your manners…”

Ciel was undaunted, smug even. “It’s my clothing, so I can do as I like.” He then held out his arm for Sebastian to have a chance at the remaining smear. “Here.”

There was nothing that could be done now though. “I’m afraid yellow soap and a turn at the washboard is the cure for this. We shall have to return to the bedroom and get you a new shirt.”

Ciel waved him off and continued with his dessert. “It’s already after dinnertime, so who cares. The servants won’t. And now I don’t have to worry about eating so carefully either…” Ciel licked the end of his finger almost cheerfully and helped himself to a heaping forkful of amandine cake.

Sebastian wanted to show more disapproval, but a memory stirred that turned one corner of his mouth up instead of down. “Young master, do you recall when chewing on your sleeves used to be a habit for you?”

Ciel swallowed and pinkened slightly with either embarrassment or disdain (probably both). “Are you seriously asking if I remember the night you put a spicy substance on my pajamas and allowed me to burn my eyes with it?”

Sebastian’s smile became sheepish. “Yes, that was the event, wasn't it… I still had plenty left to learn about how to treat children back then. Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you also remember how we came about helping you with your habit?”

Ciel lapped the prongs of his fork as if he were holding a lollipop. “Now I do. You asked me what I thought would be the way to handle it, and I said that you should reward me with dessert for breakfast if I stopped chewing whenever you asked me to.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, affirmatively. “To your credit, it did do the trick. It only took a few weeks for you to give up your habit altogether after that.”

“But there’s no chance you would ever let me have dessert for breakfast now,” Ciel snickered.

Sebastian followed with a chuckle of his own. “As I said, I had plenty yet to learn about how to treat children.” Ciel rolled his eyes, probably sour about being referred to as a child. Sebastian was in opposite spirits. “I don’t believe I ever properly apologized for the way I treated you back then.”

Ciel stared. Behind him through the window, the sun spangled through the tree limbs on its slow descent below the horizon. “You mean to tell me that you’re actually sorry about it?”

“What pride is there to be found, in tricking someone so young and vulnerable?” Sebastian bowed his conciliation. “It was a shameful display. I should like to do better in the future.”

“...” Ciel glanced away after a few moments. “Apologies don’t become you. They only make you look all the more twisted for the things you don’t apologize for.”

“Ah, well, that is probably true.” Sebastian straightened up, feeling a strange sort of fondness.

“Besides,” Ciel made a mischievous expression, all too comfortable heckling a demon, for better or worse, “the old Sebastian was much smarter than the current Sebastian in one way.”

‘Current Sebastian’ tilted his chin inquiringly. “Oh? And dare I ask what way that is?”

Ciel scraped the last bit of cake off of his plate with his fork. “The old you knew that the best way to apologize is with chocolate.”

After a moment, Sebastian raised both eyebrows high. “Hmm, is that so? What a relief it is, then, that you have stated that apologies don’t become me.”

“W-Wait, wait, I only meant verbal apologies. Cake apologies are another matter.”

“Very good. Then I shall be sure to learn a recipe with semolina and chard for next time.”

“Chard? In a cake? Ugh, what a revolting idea. Surely your butler aesthetic would never let you serve that. Especially not as an apology.”

“Then perhaps the young master should not request any further ‘cake apologies’ lest he want to find out for certain. Now, let me clear your plate, and then it’s back to your vocabulary textbooks for a little evening practice. There are only three days remaining until we head out for Germany, and the young master’s pronunciation yet leaves something to be desired…”

[scribbleseas]

in love & in war: the one where he meets you

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: The reader’s opinions are a bit old-fashioned, and they don’t reflect my own! Besides that, I’m sure there will be some explicit content down the line, but honestly, this story is much more romcom than our usually scheduled programming. It’s just a silly palette cleanser in season for Valentine’s Day.

Author’s Note: Hi! You guys expressed that you guys like more frequent posts, and I’ve reached a bit of a roadblock on my main Ciel fic right now. I thought I would write up a quick beginning to a potential drabble series! If you guys are interested in this premise, let me know! It’s fun to write such chill stakes content for once lol. Also, this isn’t based off a particular request! I’m still playing with my ideas from those, and at this point, I can confidently say you guys are getting either a one shot or a 1-3 part series based on one. Thank you all for submitting, and feel free to keep them coming.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

MASTERLIST

In Conference

Late May, 1895

Your life was nowhere near as easy as it seemed.

Perhaps, the average onlooker might see you and presume that the expensive jewels wrapped around your neck and your fingers were the most burdensome aspect of your privileged life. Or perhaps they might have thought it would be the pinch from your stately heels or the strain from a brilliant, yet strategic, permanent smile.

Your business smile. Your future-Countess-of-Richmond smile.

But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

This very moment was exact proof of that— you were in the midst of your world collapsing. The abject shock rattling through your mind was akin to a nightmare. Your eyebrows pulled together in a contentious pout, the horrified look you used to get away with your most childish crimes from your parents.

“Marriage? Simply not.” You begged, alreadying feeling your will to fight waver under your father’s tired stare, your mother’s pained grin. “I’m only—”

“Of perfect age to begin looking for a potential partner. 22 is well past ready, I would say,” your mother answered for you.

“I would be— but—” you sputtered like a fish out of water only to inhale deeply through your nose. You needed to collect yourself. Negotiate thoughtfully and logically. That was the only way to get yourself out of this.

“Speak with intent, Y/n,” your father interjected boredly, retraining his attention on the business reports he was reading. He fixed his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose.

Speak with intent. You knew those words well. They were your solace, the lighthouse in the storm that came with childhood temperament. Your father, no matter the cause of your distress, would answer: Speak with intent.

“Right,” you cleared your throat apologetically, glancing down at your hands as they sat clasped in your lap. “Sincerest apologies, sir.”

Your father hummed, eyebrows jumping a fraction of a centimeter. He picked up his pen and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the report. Your mother’s hand fell on the nape of his neck to make him turn his gaze back up at you. He hesitated before doing so, waiting to click a stamp onto the signed report.

“I do not wish to marry,” you enunciated your words carefully, confidently. “At least, not yet,” you added, now catching your father’s attention for the blunder. “I’ve yet to meet someone I love,” you felt your face redden, a desire to run back to your room threatening to overtake your fortitude. You were only so strong under your father, the Earl of Richmond’s deliberation stare. It struck fear into the other side of conference tables, lecture halls, and courtrooms. And now, across his desk at his only daughter.

Before your father could remind you that love wasn’t the most important aspect of a successful marriage, your mother interjected gently.

��What about the Duke of Clarence’s son, Antonio? He seemed to like you,” she prompted. Wrongly. You’d danced with Antonio at the Summer Solstice gala that the Pembroke family threw annually. The man opted to use the waltz’s entirety to brag about his family’s Italian vineyards and his love for agriculture. And, of course, his admiration for your father’s entrepreneurial genius. His shipping empire, TransAtlantica, had just successfully fortified shipping systems in all of the states; a step forward from simply cycling through all major ports along the east coast.

“He doesn’t love me,” you complained, “he loves TransAtlantica. He’d much prefer to marry our family corporation!” Antonio was suitable. He was decent, but that’s all he truly was to you. It’s all he ever could be.

You met your mother’s eyes pleadingly, and she pursed her lips, fully knowing the next words out of your mouth. You had a deal. From a young age, you knew the Richmond family, the Y/l/n line, respected contracts more than all else. Since you turned 17, you had one signed by all three parties and dated.

Your mother sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I remember the deal,” she said, taking a moment to consider her own words. The corners of her lips twitched as if she was attempting to hide her amusement with you. She understood— her own father, your grandfather, was just as militant, stiff with professionalism. Promises were negotiations with terms, signatures, and stamps. There were no arguments this way. “Dearest,” she addressed your father, the hand that was on the back jumping to his shoulder, “you do as well.”

“Do you?” You challenged, indignantly crossing your arms. “I request you restate the terms, mother.”

“If we are to pressure you into marriage before you feel ready, you must consent to the courting party,” your father took the liberty of answering gruffly. He squared his shoulders, regarding you purposefully— equal parts exhaustion and respect for your endurance. He cultivated it, after all. It was a fire that burned in your family for generations, as sacred as a temple flame.

“Yes,” you affirmed, “and so, I must choose the man I wish to be with.”

“With respect to your titles— no one below your station. And he must be chosen by the end of this courtship season,” your father added, negotiating. He tilted his head, analyzing your next move.

You knew of the first term since you were a child. You even remembered the exact day you learned them. You were a young girl, a little younger than seven. A young commoner boy had attempted to hand you a rose. Your maid at the time had scolded him for standing in the way of a noble family, since he had stepped out in front of you. It was a discernible moment, truly.

As for your father’s second term… you were unconvinced such a thing could be done.

“The end of the courtship season is in four months,” you replied, frowning. You were sure you met most eligible men in your social class. How were you to form a genuine connection in such little time? Even if you couldn’t find love per se, you still wanted to find someone you were compatible with.

“If we reach that deadline and you find no one, we can talk about it,” your mother answered. “And, you must allow me and your aunt to fix you on outings with suitors we like.

“Fine. Only if Daphne joins me,” you replied, knowing fully well that you weren’t allowed anywhere without your handmaiden present.

. . .

Next week

Your mother was sure not to waste any time in beginning to schedule supervised outings with a different well-educated and ennobled man that was within the appropriate age constraints. You’ve never had such a boring week, brutally torn away from the studies you adored so much.

“—And we’ve got another vacation home down in Tuscany, I think,” the Viscount Lineford’s son concluded, taking a peremptory drink out of his tea. He was dressed crisply in beige trousers that rolled up past his ankle and low leather shoes. His sterling watch sparkled in the spring sun.

You fought a building yawn that tempted the back of your throat, determined to hide your exhaustion with the man. It was a good effort, but you certainly weren’t impressed.

“That must be incredible,” you answered absently. “It must be such a lovely foreign getaway for the Lineford family,” you grinned diplomatically, blind to the horror that twisted his — you didn’t care to remember his name, unfortunately — face.

“Foreign? Excuse me Lady Y/n, but my family traces far back into Italian culture that we are practically Roman…” he started, only for you to interject.

“Will you just excuse me, please?” You struggled to keep the desperation out of your face, calmly searching for your supervisor. She was meant to be sitting at a table nearby, merely ensuring that your outing remained within polite societal constraints. More importantly, Daphne served as your escape when your potential suitors proved most unbearable. All you needed to do was subtly tilt your fan to your left ear and the woman would always scramble over to you with an excuse to steer you out of any scenario you found distasteful.

Such as this one.

Daphne never normally left your side, a realization that allowed worry to creep into your tone. “I’m unsure where my maid went, and I would like to fetch her,” you replied, standing and shouldering your small day bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, chuckling with bitter disbelief at your rudeness. Ladies were supposed to be demure and polite. You were impatient and honest, a product of an Earl knowing that his daughter was the object of his legacy. Your father trained you as he would a son, and your tutors followed in suit. “Surely you’re joking; this is the middle of our tea.”

Her pocketbook and her sweater weren’t even sitting on the chair she had been occupying, causing you to blink at the empty table in disbelief.

“No, I’m not. I think something might be wrong,” you shouldered past the man, stepping between other individuals sitting at the common tables in the park.

“Fine, you aren’t worth it anyway!” He called at your back, but the words hardly registered with you.

The area was rather common for courting pairs to visit in the early spring. However, it could also be populated with…criminals. “Excuse me,” you mumbled, quickly walking down the paved pathway through the greenery to the main sidewalk, the London pavement heavy with pedestrians. The streets were perhaps more crowded with carriages and sweating horses.

You couldn’t be alone in the city! As a woman of your stature, it simply wasn’t done. Never. Ever. It was an affront to your teachings, and it was unsafe. You needed your friend, not some stranger.

“Where is she?” You mumbled, rapidly attempting to discern every face that passed you. Surely it wouldn’t be long until someone recognized you— you were one of the most photographed families in the country. In fact, you were fortunate no one had offered your location to the press while you were on this outing. You never would have heard the last of it.

Some took hold of your handbag and darted off, using your distractedness to his advantage. He ran to the end of the block and crossed the street, weaving through pedestrians once the crossing guard allowed your side to walk over. If your hand hadn’t been tightly clutching the strap as you walked, you never would have noticed.

You did your best to pick up your speed and chase him, yelling out.

You cried out, glancing down at your long springtime dress. Your short heels were nowhere near efficient enough for you to make a chase out of the robbery, nor should have needed to! Even still, you lunged into the street — without looking.

In fact, if you had committed to your step, you would’ve been flattened by an oncoming carriage, given that the crossing guard had ordered pedestrians to stop passing moments prior. The only reason why you didn’t make the life-ruining step seemed to be… a tall young man with a serious face and staggering presence. He only had one exposed blue eye, the other was concealed by a black eyepatch. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you intimately into his chest.

You breathed heavily, tearing yourself out of his arms. A flair of irritation caused you to glare at him as you righted your stance and smooth your dress. However, he did save you from a potentially life ending situation. His immediate insurance of your safety was more meaningful than a misaligned gown that you fixed in seconds.

In fact, the moment truly was a bit theatrical. The man was handsome enough to make you smile with uncertainty, your irritation melting. “Thank you for that,” you said, relieved that the sidewalk seemed to clear, the crowd dispersing from the main street. “I could have been killed.”

“That would have been quite a shame,” he replied, locking eyes with you. The man made a thin attempt at returning your smile. He was enchanting, regal… your heart skipped a beat, considerably flustered.

…Until he spoke again, completely distorting the immediate magnetic lure you felt from his sharp features: “Rather careless of you, my Lady. You ought to be smarter than that.”

You frowned. “In case you failed to notice, that man stole my handbag and essentially disappeared,” you snapped impatiently. It had your identification, emergency notes in case you needed to purchase something, the current novel you were fixated on…how were you meant to return to the estate now?

“You weren’t catching him, I don’t think,” he noted astutely, watching you as you stepped past him to go in the direction you came from. Perhaps Daphne circled back to the park in search of you. You absolutely needed to find her.

“Thank you for your help. Good day,” you answered brusquely, continuing to walk. However, he remained in stride with you, still unabashedly smug. It quickly absolved you of any former gratefulness you had toward the man for pulling you away from oncoming traffic. Perhaps it might have hurt less to have collided with a horse and a carriage over the velocity and mass of this random man’s ego.

“What, don’t tell me you going to go chase him,” He said patronizingly, a sardonic pull infecting what you thought was initially a careful smile. No, the man was just another arrogant bastard, it seemed. “In those shoes, especially,” He perused, causing you to stop once more and regard him.

“I am a noble woman, you will not speak to me in such a manner no matter what line of—“ you caught the sapphire family and silver crest rings around two of his fingers — “mediocre destitution you come from!” You jabbed purposefully, undeserving of his rudeness and his condescension, no matter what title he occupied in your class. You were the partial inheritor of TransAtlantia; you trained to run the company to some degree since you could speak. Few could step to you.

“I believe I said good day, kind sir,” you added poisonously, daring him to continue to test you before speeding back towards the park. You needed Daphne, you needed an officer…anyone besides this pompous— you ended the thought before you could further infect yourself with such unladylike curses.

It really wasn’t so easy being the daughter of an Earl.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I’ve planned things so Lady Y/n’s maid is off helping a little girl find her mother; I separated the two by distracting the girl with a kitten. Y/n will panic without her maid being within her immediate reach, drawing her out to the street. I will cause her to put herself in harm’s way by distracting her at the corner of 89th Street and Arthur. Be ready by the street post. I’ve made the new paralegal late to his case, he will have instructed his butler to drive quick. You will need to pull her away from the street. If you miss, things may end rather…unfortunately for the young woman,” Ciel Phantomhive’s butler, Sebastian Michealis, outlined.

Sebastian was Ciel’s head butler, his head chef, head landscaper, tailor, tutor… but most importantly, the Earl of Phantomhive’s contracted demon. The supernatural being was at his disposal and his bidding; his new role being the most interesting one of all: matchmaker. He fabricated a scene for Ciel to meet Y/n Y/l/n, and ideally, make her love him.

It was simple, really. Ciel needed a wife; Y/n’s family needed a competent businessman to run that prosperous giant of a shipping enterprise; and most importantly, the woman seemed to be rather competent. The only danger to his strategy was, of course, Y/n’s foul storybook idealism, apparently. Ciel knew Y/n was highly educated and well graced in ettiquiete, but she seemed intent on finding some happily ever after of sorts.

She wanted a husband— a bloody love match. No— she needed an actor to convince her that she was worth marrying beyond the incredible status she represented. There was no asset greater than a title and an economic monarchy to inherit, and securing such a prize meant that Ciel needed to woo her.

“My Lord, you must be considerate, but not too kind. Though you should also refrain from acting too smugly or the lady may take offense,” his butler had offered some horrifically embarrassing — and incredibly unhelpful — acting lessons for him to express the particular warmth Lady Y/n seemed to be looking for.

Love. A feeling Ciel hadn’t known in around nine years. Arguably, it could’ve been more. And yet, in order to stop being solicited by desperate mothers and unlikely candidates, he was securing his bride.

According to Ciel’s butler, that meant he needed to create a memorable foundation in the woman’s mind, an introduction that would leave her curious, impassioned. Wanting more. Something to make him stand out amongst the other faceless, classless mouth breathers who would be vying for TransAtlantica, now that word of her search for a suitor was widespread.

The company and Y/n’s hand were all one in the same courtship, and Ciel was sure the was going to win both.

The Earl of Phantomhive was never one to lose. He’d be remiss to start now.

[strawwritesfic]

Sebastian Michaelis x Female!Maid!Reader: College

Summary: At least he can give you one hell of a goodbye before they leave.

Rating/Tags: M (overt sexual references; Phantomhive Manor; major time skip from canon; college-bound!Ciel; Ciel without quotation marks; Sebastian & Ciel; Sebastian & Ciel & Reader; historical inaccuracies; not canon compliant)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Notes: I haven’t read Black Butler since 2012, and I haven’t watched the anime, period. However, because I have a friend that keeps up with the series from time to time, I am aware of some plot insanity that makes this scenario completely impossible. C’est la vie. 

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

College

A hollow sort of hush lay over the enormous house and all its grounds that hot August afternoon. The sun beat down on vacant flowerbeds and through the window panes into empty rooms. If any of the home’s usually raucous staff was there to see, none of them moved, none of them spoke. Their tasks were done, and what else was left but to wait for the inevitable? Wait they must. Being shouted at over their apathy was not much different than being shouted at for their enthusiasm.

Only two servants seemed to have escaped the oppressive moroseness that hung like a sheet over Phantomhive Manor. Hot as it was, sad as it was, they still had work to do. Down the deserted corridor, up the stairs, and inside the bare master bedroom stood the pair: a man, slender and dressed all in black, and a woman in a maid uniform. 

The curtains had been pulled back and the window opened in the hopes of letting in some cheer, or at least a breeze. It appeared to be working, for the woman smiled as she watched the man sift through the trunk on the floor.

He lifted his head from its depths with a sigh. “I suppose everything appears to be in order,” he told the woman at his side.

You grinned, pressing your palms together. “That should be the last of it, then! We’re all finished.”

“You say that now. No doubt Mey-Rin will decide to sneak in some last minute token of appreciation and upset things all over again.”

“And Finny will want him to take flowers to remember the place by, and Baldroy will recall how awful university food is and want to send him a whole month’s worth of rations.” A laugh at the expression on the man’s face could not be entirely avoided. “I don’t know where you think you get the right to look like that, Sebastian. I’m the one that has to stay here with them.”

Sebastian, for that was the butler’s name, and the maid’s was [Name], only carded a gloved hand through his messy bangs and collapsed on the end of the stripped bed. “You know that isn’t by my choice.”

“No, but I knew it would be the Earl’s choice from the beginning, even when he said he wanted to leave you here to look after things.” When Sebastian did nothing but continue to contemplate his knees, you lighted down next to him. “Still, I confess myself disappointed. It was nice to believe I might have you all to myself for a little bit.”

A quiet scoff, and then his hands found one of yours to hold between them. “I’m sure that’s why he decided to take me after all. Can’t have the butler having any free time, can we? Not to mention all the extremely useful things for a butler to do on a university campus.”

“Taking out the trash, finding his books at the library, cooking meals at two in the morning while he studies for an exam the next morning…”

He groaned. Giggle though you might have at Sebastian’s predicament, you could see how bone-tired he really was. And who could blame him? Ciel had been running him ragged, changing plans, changing them back, get this, get that, leave him alone, why was Sebastian not at his beck and call immediately? Of course even a demon would be exhausted–or annoyed. 

You bumped him lightly with your shoulder. “Hey, cheer up. I’ll be here to keep things running smoothly.”

“That’s the only thing keeping me from ripping that contract to pieces. No soul is worth this. Not even his.” Sebastian said this so dully that you might have believed he was serious, save for his dramatic fall against your side to rest his head on your shoulder and close his eyes.

“Then you’d miss out on seeing me every day,” you said.

The eyes opened up a sliver. “You’re not exactly worth it either.”

“True. I can almost promise the house won’t blow up while you’re away, but more than that…”

“There will be food and holes all over the walls. Garden dead. No clean laundry. Pantry empty. I’ll have to take each blunder out of your hide, you know.”

“That’s more like the Sebastian I know,” you breathed as you caught the smirk on his face. Your fingers danced through his hair for the shortest time imaginable before he twisted away to take your chin.

“In fact, all of these preparations might have gone more smoothly without your mistakes. It’s partially your fault that I’m considering giving my notice,” he said. “I should take that out of your hide now.”

Without further discussion, he pressed his lips to yours–“press” being the polite term for it. Heaven knew it was hot enough already. The two of you were already on a bed, however, and you were splayed across it, head spinning, before anything could be done to stop it. Sebastian’s mouth and other…admirable attributes made for a much better distraction from the warm summer and Ciel’s departure than any nonexistent breeze could. You gasped as you felt Sebastian hitch your skirts up, and–

“Here you two are. I trust you’ve finished the packing if you’ve decided you have time for a lark on my bed.”

You and Sebastian both sat up to find the master of the house--a young man with dark blue hair and an eye patch--standing in the doorway. His hands were on his hips and his usual peeved expression on his face. Ciel had found you in more compromising positions before, though, and his mind must have been too stuck on his upcoming trip to really be upset over such behavior from his servants–especially his only competent two. 

Sebastian bowed, a smile not quite making it to his face in time.

“And what is it that you are doing on my bed?” Ciel asked, eyebrow raised.

Sebastian did manage a smile at that. “If I couldn’t get my master packed for university and pleasure a woman at the same time, what sort of butler would I be?”

“More hygienic, I should hope.” Ciel lifted his eye heavenward and shook his head. “Sebastian, come along. I need to go over the wallpaper with you again. I don’t think the red was a good decision. [Name], get this room dressed up again. Why did you strip it? Or do you expect me to sleep on nothing when I come home for the holidays?”

“Yes, my lord,” you said, curtsying as you got a little unsteadily to your feet. 

No matter how many times Ciel walked in on you and Sebastian, you could never capture the same indifference as your companion. Too many real human emotions, you supposed. Not that that was going to stop you when Sebastian treated you like that.

“And you can go to the kitchen and help Baldroy when you’re done. I don’t want to hear another word about this going away feast he’s been prattling on about. Something light should do. I want to be situated by nine tomorrow morning, so Sebastian and I will be leaving at dusk.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And close the window. If I’d wanted the place aired out, I would have said.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Serves you right,” Sebastian said in a low voice, as Ciel turned out into the hallway once again. “I’ll see you this evening, for as long as the master allows it. So be ready.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said with a bit of a wicked grin.

Sebastian smirked again, but before any further promises of punishment could come, Ciel was back in the room. “Sebastian!”

“Coming, sir.”

You watched them go, still smiling for as long as you could. Eventually, you would have to go downstairs and be overcome by the rest of the staff’s grief. Eventually, you would have to say goodbye to Sebastian and your master both. But not just yet, you didn’t think. Years of service to the young earl, and you knew he was softer than he let on–well, softer to everyone but Sebastian. He wouldn’t be able to resist the feast once he actually came downstairs for dinner. 

And after? After the chores, after the tears, after the packing and repacking and packing again? You still had Sebastian for one more night. For a few minutes anyway. In between changing wallpaper and listening to Ciel complain about the heat.

[blackbutlerbrainrots]

More about the ~𝓦𝓡𝓘𝓣𝓔𝓡~

My pseudonym or a name I would like to be called is Lily :€

My pronouns are she/her :1

I am a straight ally so I might take a bit of time on a request that has a transgender reader or cis masc/fem reader etc. I really try to be respectful, and I may ask some of my friends who are more knowledgeable in this topic so it may really take some time to write the request.

This doesn't mean that I won't necessarily write for lesbian reader, or gay reader. I love to explore new things as a writer, and along the way, I get to know more about lesbian/gay relationships.

I know my age is 18+ but I don't really feel comfortable sharing my specific age. Just know that I am an adult that has a life outside of tumblr ;?)

The writer's ~𝓛𝓘𝓚𝓔𝓢~

I really like angst! It's not like I don't appreciate the asks you all send me but I just really like angst. I feel like it's more interesting than all other kind of tropes (is that what you call it? I honestly forgot at this point) :D

I like to talk or interact with people, so if you ever have questions, drabbles you like to send, ask me about my opinion on this and that, I don't mind so send them! :>

I don't really mind people who spam likes, reblogs and comments. It actually fuels me to work more, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside :8>

The writer's ~𝓓𝓘𝓢𝓛𝓘𝓚𝓔𝓢~

As much as I don't mind if someone is spamming like/reblogs/comments, I don't like it when you do it on purpose. These are some examples of what I'm talking about. :"|

I think it's pretty obvious that me, as the owner and writer of this blog and you, the readers of my works are that we need manners. And we should respect each other. Offensive words and slurs are NOT welcomed in my blog. ;=)

I am still a person who has a life outside of Tumblr and asking how my day is going is totally fine! Just not the kind of questions that goes over the boundaries. ;@

Send me links, you're IMMEDIETLY blocked. ;D

Porn bots, as you've guessed it, is IMMEDIETLY blocked also! :[]

[deevotee]

To Caress The Boundary Lines by deevotee | Rating: T

It's not unusual to have someone messing with his hair. Mr. Sebastian and Mr. Tanaka will stop him plenty of times during the day to both scold him for it and to fix it for him.

It's just that the young master putting his hands in Finny's hair is…definitely a new experience.

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Finnian/Ciel Phantomhive, Finnian (Kuroshitsuji), Ciel Phantomhive, Fluff, Mildly sexually charged, no actual sexual content, Proship please interact 🙏

Twitter Link!

[ciciyup]

🏹 Hii, thank you for stopping by my blog, this is a safe space, feel comfortable here please. You can call me Cici, I'm new to all this so I hope you can be patient with me (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

🏹 English is not my first language, I usually use Google Translate so I'm sorry for any grammar or other errors.

🏹 I don't have an exact day and time to update, I really do it when I have imagination and time. I can upload three stories at a time and then disappear for six months lol.

🏹 This post will be updated as I have more things to add.

🏹 I'll start by writing headcanons and drabbles since I'm pretty rusty. I will write longer stories from time to time if I have enough inspiration.

🏹 Here will be my rules and the fandoms I will write for, feel free to ask if you have any questions, I will answer them as soon as I can.

🏹 None of the images I use are my own, they are all from Pinterest. All rights go to their respective authors.

🏹 I don't support cheating, yandere, or anything that follows that line in real life. I can write it, but beyond that, I don't agree with it happening in reality.

Rules

I write only for the fandoms that are here. If there is a character I didn't name, I may not write for this one.

I write only for the female reader or neutral reader.

I don't write character x oc or character x character.

I accept suggestions, maybe I could end up writing them if I like them but I don't guarantee anything.

I write anything except: self-harm, au's, polyamorous relationships (If necessary for the story I can give a brief description of the matter of these first three things, but I will not go into too much detail), zoofilia, anything involving urine, feces, foot fetish, drugs.

Fandoms

Black Butler

Record Of Ragnarok

My Hero Academia

Twilight

Characters I write for

✞ Black Butler:

Ciel Phantomhive (only platonically)

Vincent Phantomhive

Sebastian Michaelis

Undertaker

Snake

Finnian (only platonically)

Joker

Lau

Agni

Soma

Bravat

Diederich

Alois Trancy (only platonically)

Gregory Violet

Edgar Redmond

Edward Midford

Charles Grey

Drocell Keinz

────୨ৎ────

❦ Record Of Ragnarok:

Loki

Adam

Shiva

Hades

Ares

Zerofuku (only platonically)

Poseidon

Hermes

Apollo

Beelzebub

Nikola Tesla

Eve

Goll (only platonically)

Thrud

────୨ৎ────

✰ My Hero Academia:

Monoma Neito

Shinso Hitoshi

Yuga Aoyama

Izuku Midoriya

Shoto Todoroki

Cathleen Bate

Melissa Shield

Itsuka Kendo

────୨ৎ────

☾ Twilight:

Demetri Volturi

Felix Volturi

Aro Volturi

Jane Volturi (only platonically)

Alec Volturi (only platonically)

Carlisle Cullen

Seth Clearwater

Embry Call

Paul Lahote

Jared Cameron

Lastly, please don't forget to be nice here. I would like us all to be able to interact with respect and kindness. Thanks for stopping by! I hope you have a nice day and stay healthy (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

─cici🏹

[sleepingdeath-light]

updated frequently -> last update on 29/08/24

all of the drafts i currently have on this blog, organised alphabetically by format, fandom name, and character name. some will be self explanatory and others will have a bit more detail attached to them. this only includes requests that i have completed or that i am actively working on.

alphabets

-> fluff

none currently drafted

-> smut

wildberry cookie ; cr

-> yandere

none currently drafted

drabbles

-> sfw

none currently drafted

-> nsfw

none currently drafted

headcanons

-> being in a relationship

shikabane ; aggret suko

dammon ; bg3

minthara ; bg3

rolan ; bg3

zevlor ; bg3

osamu dazai ; bsd

butter roll cookie ; cr

fire spirit cookie ; cr

longan dragon cookie ; cr

macaroni cookie ; cr

onyx cream cookie ; cr

sally smithson / the nurse ; dbd

faybelle thorn ; eah

lizzie hearts ; eah

sylvie ashling ; ee

v ; md

blue diamond ; su

lapis lazuli ; su

-> specific sfw scenarios

o!ciel phantomhive + catching his italian s/o practising stragheria ; bb

claude faustus + catching his italian s/o practising stragheria ; bb

grelle sutcliffe + s/o with adhd ; bb

sebastian michaelis + jamaican witch s/o ; bb

sebastian michaelis + s/o with adhd ; bb

william t. spears + catching his italian s/o practising stragheria ; bb

brandy + helping her adopted trans daughter cope with dysphoria ; blu ey

heeler family + having a deaf youngest child reader ; blu ey

silverbell cookie + parental!reader ; cr

angel dust + verosika mayday!friend ; hh

charlie morningstar + verosika mayday!s/o ; hh

lucifer morningstar + verosika mayday!s/o ; hh

lucifer morningstar + bonding over shared love of ducks ; hh

claudia wolf + nonbeliever s/o ; sh

gangle + being woken up by her friend when she’s sleepwalking ; tadc

mettaton + trans masc s/o ; ut

wally + falling for a human that wants to go home ; wh

-> smut

mushitarō oguri ; bsd

nikolai gogol ; bsd

sigma ; bsd

elder faerie cookie ; cr

queen ; delta rune

adam ; hh

france ; het alia

-> specific nsfw scenarios

longan dragon cookie + eating out afab s/o ; cr

sparkling cookie + bottoming ; cr

howdy + spring time rut ; wh

sally + dom fem s/o + bdsm ; wh

-> yandere character(s)

none currently drafted

-> specific yandere scenarios

poly alan sylvasta & shirou ogami s + s/o who is like lady dimitrescu ; bna

one shots

-> sfw

none currently drafted

-> nsfw

after the show ; beast + fem ; bb

alone in the office ; grelle + fem ; bb

a new act ; dagger + fem ; bb

arachnophilia ; claude + fem ; bb

liquid courage ; grelle + sebastian + fem ; bb

moths to a flame ; ronald + fem ; bb

sweet as sugar ; william + fem ; bb

twice loved ; grelle + madam red + fem ; bb

unbecoming of a lady ; sebastian + fem ; bb