Black Butler Oc Novels & Stories

"The high table doesn't hand out elite battalions because your father signed a treaty, Chika Whitmore," Ronan Blackwell rasped, his eyes turning a dangerous shade of charcoal as he gripped his bone-handled knife. "Elder Solomon Reed is looking for an executioner who can paint the streets red, not an over-privileged prince."

Emily Parr. Blankenship threw himself into his chair and closed his eyes. His anger was a living, breathing creature, burrowed deep in his chest. Its bloody claws raked his insides and its beady black eyes fixed on his soul. He challenged the beast, pinning it inside the dark place in his head. He still had control, for a while yet. The butler entered with a decanter of brandy and poured a glass, setting it on the counter. "Will there be anything else?" Baltus wheezed.

RED ALERT! Blackening Value increase-75% The blackening happened so suddenly that Omeo who heard an unfamiliar sound inside his head furrowed his brows, as he was thinking who is it, having to cross a thought that he might have been bonded by a system suddenly made him feel ecstasy but before he feel an un-presented joy of finally having a system despite him not being a hero or Sotiras, a big shadow that was shaped into a weird figure appeared in front of him. The feathery and also was like a skin-bone feet at the same time was seen in Omeo sight who was still on the ground as he was still struggling on getting up and standing on his feet without any help from a person who take the initiativ

Janet said before heading towards the kitchen. "I'll look after her ma! but for now....... I'm only offering to drive her around since that's what my boss assigned me to do". Mister Black said before getting up from the dining chair. How he's behaving is Damn creepy, 'like what the hell!'. Mister Black is behaving like a nonhuman base on his method of talking. He didn't even blink while he was staring at Cecelia. He wasn't staring at her with lust, neither was he staring at her with disgusted eyes, but he was staring at her with the types of eyes that carries different emotions.

"But..' she whispers. 'Not now..' he said again, and completely vanished from the room. He walks outside the main gate of the palace, where the garden lies. Petals of sakura leaves were falling down from trees. Surrounded by the sakura trees and a fountain in the middle. Alkhun looks at the water in it and saw the reflection of himself. Black greyish eyes, with black messy hair and white tan skin, pointed nose. Nothing special really, except. He shoved his hair on the forehead theirs a noticeable black scar, a Finger big, undefined shape. He doesn't hate it, he sure doesn't. It is the symbol of the Witch Family of the West.

“I am your Beta! I'm supposed to know these things! What does it make me if you're planning things with an outsider in my absence?!” “Poor puppy no longer feel like his masters favorite?” Black said with a mocking pout and Laycon growls, causing Black to leap out of his seat with an uncharacteristic giggle, “I'll take my leave now. If you need us, you know how to reach me…. And the other Black's.” He informed, sounding serious again, “We have everything in check, and we'll be sure to keep our pretty Luna out of danger too, we just need an order. Now… I have to report back to Zane.” He cleared his throat, bowing quickly before turning around. “When do I get to meet the real Black.” I called o

His hand moved to my waist, pressing me harder against the wall. “Alpha David, stop!” I pushed against his chest. He didn’t listen. His face inched closer. Panic surged through me. “Alpha David, stop!” Suddenly, a deep, guttural snarl ripped through the air. A hand yanked him away. “Enough.” Alpha David stumbled back, breathing hard. I looked up and saw the butler standing between us, his expression dark with fury. But this time, his irises glowed a faint gold—he wasn’t just a servant. He was a wolf too. A Beta.

As the door slowly creaked open, Leon’s eyes immediately locked onto Zalethos Blackwood, seated on a raised throne at the far end of the room. Zalethos Blackwood, the Demon King, exuded an aura of authority that seemed to fill the entire room. His jet-black eyes were like bottomless abysses, cold and commanding, while the sharpness of his gaze radiated an overwhelming pressure. He wore a regal robe of deep purple, edged with gold, and every movement he made imbued with a sense of solemn dignity.

The other side was filled with beeping monitors, IV drips, and oxygen tanks. ‎ ‎And in the center, sitting at a long ebony dining table set for three, was a figure in a wheelchair. ‎ ‎Julius Blackwood. ‎ ‎He was terrifyingly small. His body was withered, his skin clinging to his bones like translucent parchment. His hands, resting on the arms of the chair, were skeletal claws. He looked like a corpse that had been dug up and dressed in a velvet suit. ‎ ‎But his eyes were alive. ‎ ‎They were bright, feverish, and predatory. They locked onto me instantly, stripping away my defenses.