Addiy

Link to pt 2

I’m cold on my bed, my red satin sheets clinging to my legs, not fully covering me, but enough… I’m waiting for Sebastian, Ciel usually sends him here to tuck me in, he’s late— By thirty minutes… Thirty two… Thirty three… where is he? I sit up, ready to look for him, that’s when I hear it: the door creaking. “Sebastian?” It’s him. His voice comes out— kind and gentle, yet cold and calculating. “I’m late,” he says, though it sounds as if he’s telling himself rather than me. “You should be asleep by now, my apologies.” He’s not even looking at me, just his gloves as he strides closer to my bed, the moonlight shining through the thin navy-blue curtains makes his eyes ethereal. He looks into my eyes, "You look... unwell. Ciel would be displeased if his sister were to deteriorate under my watch." He brushes his cold, gloved thumb on my lip. I shiver, his touch is electric. "You're trembling," he noted, his voice remaining a steady, rhythmic velvet. He didn't pull his hand away; instead, he applied a fraction more pressure, his thumb tracing the shape of my lower lip as if he were memorizing a blueprint. "Is it the fever, or are you simply... impatient?"

I couldn't find my voice. The electricity of the leather against my skin made my breath hitch, a sharp contrast to the stagnant, chilly air of the room. He leaned in closer, the scent of expensive tea and old shadows clinging to him. The moonlight caught the crimson of his eyes, making them look like polished stones—beautiful, but entirely hard.

"If you cannot sleep," he murmured, his other hand coming up to grip the edge of the red satin, “What is it you require?” I thought his question must’ve been rhetorical as I looked up at him, the moonlight was cutting across his cheekbones, making him look more like a statue than a man. "I suggest you stay," I whispered, the words feeling small in the vast, quiet room. "Just for a moment." He sighs, “If that is what you require, young mistress.” His gaze drops to the space I had so clearly left for him before he sits. “Would you like a story, m’lady?” He’s running his fingers through my hair as I lie my head onto his lap and hum “Yes, please.” My gaze followed his hand as he reached for the book we’ve been reading together, Crime and Punishment. As he starts reading I get a bit drowsy, his voice is gentle, and then… Lights out.

Link to pt 1

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, hitting Lady (ur name)’s eyes, “Young mistress… It’s morning.” I watched for the slight flinch of her eyelids, nothing. “Miss (ur name). Wake up. Your morning tea is served.” Still nothing. The stillness of her frame was inconvenient. "Your breathing is steady, your pulse quite rhythmic… and yet, you remain lost to the world. How very curious. The Phantomhive bloodline certainly possesses a remarkable talent for making my duties… difficult." I say as I leaned down, shifting the red satin to gather her into my arms. Her frame felt delicate, not for lack of substance, but in the way a masterpiece is delicate; a finely crafted thing that required my absolute, unwavering care. As I lifted her, her head fell back against my shoulder, the morning light catching the soft curve of her throat. Truly, a sight Ciel would go to great lengths to protect. A low, fractured sound escaped her throat, a protest against the waking world. I paused, watching the way her brow furrowed in irritation. It was a remarkably human sound, one of pure, unadulterated defiance against the morning. “Sebastian?” She says, as I continue to dress her half limp body. I did not pause my work. My fingers moved with a blur of practiced precision, tying the lace of her corset tight, she hisses, “Too tight!” As she reaches her hand back to move my hands I lightly tap it, “Proper posture is a requirement for someone of your standing, young mistress.” I pause, a creak of laces tightening coming sharply between breaths. “If you find the laces restrictive, you are welcome to rise earlier and dress yourself, young mistress.” She rolls her eyes, “As if, that’s too much work, plus I’d fall asleep much earlier, like by lunchtime.” Her voice is cracking, she must be tired. I turn her around to do her makeup. Slow. Steady. Efficient. “WAIT,” She screeches, “You’re doing it wrong, Sebastian” I look at her, puzzled, yet slightly annoyed, “How come?”

“…The second time, you were already waiting for me on the bed, skirts hiked up, legs parted. You pulled me down and guided me inside you yourself, sinking onto my cock with a broken little moan. You were so wet I slid in easily, but you were still tight, clenching around me as you started riding. Your breasts bounced with every desperate rock of your hips. You kept whispering ‘deeper’ and ‘harder,’ your nails digging into my chest. When I grabbed your waist and thrust up into you, you cried out and came so hard your thighs shook uncontrollably. You collapsed on top of me afterward, panting, kissing my neck, and begging me not to stop even though you were still trembling from the orgasm.”

Sebastian’s tone remained calm and measured, almost clinical, but the words were raw and vivid. He paused only to adjust his arm slightly, keeping the embrace gentle and non-intimate.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes—hot, stinging tears of guilt, shame, and overwhelming emotion. The memories flooded back: the secrecy, the pleasure, the way you had lost yourself in those forbidden moments. Your breath hitched. Your cheeks burned. A shameful warmth pooled low in your belly, your body reacting despite everything. You shifted slightly against him, thighs pressing together as the tears slipped down your cheeks.

Sebastian noticed immediately. His crimson eyes flicked down to your face, catching the glistening tears and the faint flush creeping across your skin. His voice softened, but he didn’t stop.

“The third time was in the library. You pushed me against the wall, dropped to your knees, and took me into your mouth with such eagerness. Your lips were so warm and wet around my cock, your tongue swirling as you looked up at me with those needy eyes. Then you bent over the desk, skirts lifted, and begged me to be rough. I thrust into you from behind—deep, hard, fast—while my fingers rubbed your clit. You were dripping down your thighs, moaning ‘please’ and ‘don’t stop’ until your voice broke. When you came, you screamed my name, your walls pulsing around me so tightly I could barely move. You were limp and boneless afterward, barely able to stand, yet you still turned around and cleaned me with your mouth, looking up at me like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.”

More tears spilled over. Your breathing grew uneven, a mix of quiet sobs and the undeniable heat building between your legs. You were crying—guilt and regret twisting in your chest—yet your body betrayed you, nipples tightening, core aching with unwanted arousal at the vivid recounting. You pressed closer to Sebastian’s chest, embarrassed and overwhelmed, but unable to ask him to stop.

Sebastian’s hand continued its slow, soothing strokes on your back, never venturing lower, never crossing the line Ciel had drawn. His voice remained gentle, almost tender in its honesty.

“You were beautiful when you came undone,” he murmured. “Flushed and trembling, whispering how good it felt, how alive you felt. I enjoyed every second of it. But those moments are over now. The young master knows, and the consequences are here.”

He held you a little closer, still strictly platonic, letting you cry against him while the explicit memories hung in the air between you.

“Would you like me to keep going?” he asked softly, voice calm. “Or shall I stop and simply hold you until you fall asleep? The choice is yours, my lady.”

The fire crackled. Tears continued to slip down your cheeks, your body warm and teary-eyed, caught between shame and lingering arousal…

A/N : I didn’t know if this was tumblr worthy but i thought i’d try, it took a while… thank you if you read it!!

Chapter three; Y/N pov :)

Once Sebastian had finished my makeup I was escorted to the dining room for breakfast, Despite my protests that he’d made me look "entirely too proper," a single glance in the vanity mirror had silenced me. My wariness had faded behind pounds of powder, I looked flawless. I sat down at the wooden dining table, across from Ciel. Today we’re having kedgeree. Not my favorite. This corset is making my back hurt and Ciel keeps talking about business duties and oh my god this powder is itchy. Where is Sebastian with the tea, I need to wash this fish down. “Right, Addisyn,” I hear Ciel say. I look up at him. “Uhm, yes. Right, Ciel.” He looks at my face, eyes squinting, “You seem to be pre-occupied, Addisyn, have you been listening?” Ciel says, as Sebastian finally arrives with the tea. I immediately gulp it down the hot tea burning my throat, regardless I want to be excused. “Yes, Ciel.” I say, preparing to stand. “May I be escorted to the garden?” Ciel looks at me, annoyed. “Yes, you may.” I stand up looking to Sebastian, ready for him to escort me. “Sebastian?” He glances over to me. “Yes, young mistress?” I stand, ready to leave immediately, “May you escort me to the garden?” I ask, he smiles, “Yes, Young mistress.” As we’re headed to the garden I complain “Sebastian, if I have to stay in this lace for one more minute, I’m going to burn the manor down.” I stopped by the stone bench, my chest heaving, but the corset wouldn't allow me a full breath. Sebastian stopped exactly three paces behind me, his hands tucked perfectly behind his back. He didn't offer comfort. He didn't even look sympathetic. He just stood there, waiting for his next order like a well-oiled machine.It was his indifference that broke me. I turned to face him, my face hot under the pounds of powder. I looked at him, really looked at him and his expression was as smooth and unreadable as the tea service he’d just cleared. He didn't care that I was suffocating. He didn't care about anything. "Sebastian," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of heat and frustration. "I don't want to go back inside." He tilted his head slightly, a gesture so polite it felt like a slap. "As you wish, Young Mistress. Shall I fetch your embroidery, or perhaps a book to pass the time?" “No." I took a step into his space, my hand trembling as I reached for his cravat, clutching the silk just to see a spark of something in those crimson eyes. "I want you to make me forget. About Ciel, and the tea, and this entire suffocating house." He didn't move. He didn't lean in. He simply looked down at my hand on his throat with the same detached curiosity he’d show a smudge on a silver platter. “Is that what you require?” he asked. His voice was dark and velvety, but it was hollow completely devoid of any warmth or desire. He wasn't asking because he wanted me he was asking for a command.

“Yes.”