Starring: Haschwalth Jugram x f!reader; Hubert Alexander Kleich x f!reader; mention to Yhwach, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Rangiku Matsumoto, Shuhei Hisagi, Shunsui Kyoraku, Candance Catnipp, Askin Nakk le Vaar, Yamamoto Genryusai, Bambietta Basterbine and Nanao Ise;
Warnings: nsfw, angst, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, language, cheating, abusive relationship, unhealthy relationship, toxic behaviors, manhandling, guilty conscience, masturbation, hair pulling, semi-public sex, Hubert is a filthy bastard, rough sex, creampie, Yhwach has adopted both Haschwalth and Hubert, emotional manipulation, use of alcohol, smoking, class system supporters (mostly Hubert), modern au;
Plot: Ironically, you had met Haschwalth first. Fate, however, made you part ways only to be reunited under awkward circumstances. Spending the summer break at your arrogant boyfriend’s family manor in Germany, you crossed paths with Haschwalth again, only for him to be introduced by Hubert as his brother. Your unhappy relationship with Hubert tore you to pieces and Haschwalth struggled to keep his distance from you. You were fading under his splendid eyes for the vile actions of the man who should have taken care of you. One night, when he saw you crying at the boathouse, without any sign of his brother around, he found himself in a very difficult position. You opened up to him and Haschwalth knew he was never going to forgive himself for he had no intention to leave you alone. Not even if he was about to be casted away from his family for having touched his brother’s woman.
Books. You loved books. The smell of old novels was what you adored the most, when exploring small libraries, specifically looking for rare first editions to collect through the long march of time. Sometimes, unfortunately, you could not afford them. The price was enough to make your head spin and feel absolutely penniless. However, you always saved some money for special occasions. You liked the idea of buying yourself a gift every now and then and you had the perfect excuse to go to the shop that day. It was your birthday and you had been waiting months to purchase a particularly old edition of “Pride and Prejudice” you had set your eyes on from the moment you had run in that bookstore.
Too bad you were now standing a few feet away from the bookshelf, where the volume was supposed to be, with rounded eyes and a quivering lower lip you had to chew on not to let out a puerile sob of frustration, threatening to erupt from your throat. Much to your dismay, the spot once occupied by the novel you longed to possess was empty. Horrified, you stared at the gap on the bookshelf, dread washing over you as you hardly swallowed the lump in your throat. There was no one to blame for your defeat. If only you had decided to visit the library a couple of days ago, perhaps you would have been able to buy it. Too bad you had been stuck in your dorm studying for your finals and you had barely successfully fought back the urge to storm in the library, toss your money at the cashier and dash back in your bedroom to bury your nose among the yellowish pages of that book.
Sad and wretched, you dragged your feet along the floor, eyes searching for a valid substitute to console yourself with, when you accidentally bumped into someone. A small gasp left your lips, as your eyes were met with a white coat and a masculine scent of peppermint and saffron to pierce your nose. Your eyes travelled up the double-breasted coat, stunned, a bit embarrassed by the small inconvenience occurred, only to lose the capacity to talk. You had already figured that man was tall. Your forehead had just made an impact with his firm chest, after all. What you did not expect was for him to look like the human incarnation of the Prince Charming. Blond, long hair framed his sharp features, pale complexion complimented by two aquamarines supposed to be his eyes. He was probably a couple of years older than you and a small frown had crossed his angelic face, hand resting tentatively on your forearm to check on you.
You were pretty damn sure that Jane Austen would have turned him into a character for one of his novels, if only you had lived in her timeline.
“I’m sorry, miss. — he apologized formally, deep voice blanketing you in the sudden realization you were still standing way too close to him, shoes glued to the polished parquet underneath your feet preventing you from taking a step back — I should’ve paid attention to where I was going”.
Your mouth felt like chalk, but you shook your head dismissively “Oh, no, it’s nothing! I was not really wary of my surroundings myself” you replied, eyes flitting down to the bag that had probably slipped from his grasp upon crashing against you. At least, someone had found what he looked for today.
You hastily bent down, hand grasping the handles of the bag and you could not help yourself but peer inside it to catch the title of the book he had bought. Your lips parted, when you recognized the deep navy blue hardcover, the silver capital letters chiseled on it, a stark contrast with the background, that you had wished to run the palm of your hand on in stormy nights spent on reading in the privacy of your bedroom. Karma seemed to have targeted you.
You bitterly sighed, before standing back up and handing the bag to him. He did not deserve your acrimony over such a trivial matter, therefore you weakly smiled at him. It was him, then, the lucky customer who had bought your beloved book.
“Enjoy your reading” you said, once his fingers latched around the handles, accidentally grazing against yours. His touch was delicate, just like his appearence.
The stranger stood there for a few seconds, watching you move away to continue your small trip to the library. He was observant and you found out about it the moment he called you out, causing you to halt and turn around to face him again. He was not smiling, but his expression resembled that of a man in concern.
“Are you having a good day?” he asked, risking to sound too straightforward. You did not really mind it, yet you felt guilty for envying him and the stupid novel in his bag. If he had asked you about your mood, he probably had sensed resentment, or bad vibes, coming from you.
You let your gaze flit from his face to your boots “I was trying to. — you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected — Thanks for your concern”.
Haschwalth stared at you in silence, blue eyes boring into yours, lingering on your face for longer than he intended to. You were beautiful, so terribly beautiful and different from the uptown girls he was used to attend university and events with. You were hiding your chin and mouth behind a red woollen scarf, your eyes looked kind, tired, and your voice was warm, not coquettish, high-pitched and detatched from genuine emotions.
He hesitated for a second, his upper lip twitching, as he contemplated if asking for your number would have offended you, or not. Then he clamped his mouth shut and opted for letting you go. You probably did not want anything to do with him. You were having a bad day, you came from different worlds. It was evident. You probably assumed he was a snobbish asshole with expensive tastes, something you clearly were not. If only you knew all he looked for was a peaceful date at your most likely snug house, watching movies and eating homemade pop-corns, maybe you would have given him a chance. Also, you probably thought he was a player, a bastard only seeking physical touch and ghosting the girls he had slept with, when they were still resting next to him in the same bed.
But, for God’s sake, he was nothing like that.
He realized he was terribly embarrassed for the first time ever in his life. He was overthinking, too many thoughts obfuscating his mind, causing him to stall, waste time. You were sweetly ordinary and he yearned to pretend to be just a somebody with a pretty girl who loved cosy libraries and was shy enough to even hide her face from her interlocutors, when they held eye-contact.
He could try to ask anyway. He had to. Yet, when he decided to take a step in your direction, and boldly ask for your contact, your phone rang. The spell broke, your hand hastily slipped in the pocket of your jacket and you shot him an apologetic last smile, before waving at him and jogging out of the library.
You were gone. Where could he find you again? Did you come to that store often? He was a massive idiot. He could not let you go, right? People did foolish things for love, or to conquer the hearts of the people they burned for. Maybe he could not say he was already in love with you, but if he did not chase after you, he would have had to live with the unbearable regret of having let you go. He needed to stop you, to elbow his way through the crowd busying the sidewalk and look for you, for the girl with a red scarf and a tender smile.
Haschwalth began to march towards the exit, when a familiar voice stopped him, a reminder he was not alone.
“Did you plan to leave me behind?” Hubert inquired pointedly, arching a dark eyebrow and wearing his black leather gloves unhurriedly.
Haschwalth bit his tongue, avoiding conflict more out of displeasure for having found and lost you on the same day than for the lack of interest in bickering with his brother. Their relationship was balanced, despite the frequent arguments between the two. Hubert was belligerent, Haschwalth conciliatory. Opposite poles, as a matter of fact.
“I was going to wait for you outside”.
“Yeah, I could tell. — Hubert remarked, before he preceded him out of the shop — Give me the keys, I want to drive” he told him smugly, a small grin on his lips as Haschwalth complied to his request automatically. He was too distracted to focus on the road anyway. All he could think about was you. You, his runaway girl.
Where did you go, stealing his heart from his chest and not bothering to give it back to him?
You felt like a fish out of water. Elitist students rambling in the courtyard, parking their shiny cars and leisurely hopping down from them to join their friends to vent about the last exclusive event they had attended made you regret your choice of partaking with your friend Nanao to the annual academic competition hosted by the private Silbern Atheneum. Letting your friend down was out of discussion, though. She needed a partner to be able to sign up for competing and you were, according to Professor Yamamoto, the perfect candidate to finally win the contest and take the cup back to the Seireitei University after twenty years.
You were not nervous for what you were about to face. Honestly, what irked you was just that you felt like every girl passing by you and your friend was judging you, aiming to discriminate you basing their opinions solely on the fact you did not amble around the building wearing a pair of Louboutin, or that the boys were all wearing fine attires you hardly could see your friends showing off even at parties. Shallow and dressed up people should have not affected you that much. The thing was you were still thinking about that handsome guy you had met at the library three months ago. He definitely matched the description of a Silbern student. Whenever your eyes set on a blond-haired man wearing white clothes, you were back in that bookshop, seething for he had taken away from you not only what you had been chasing for months, hurling out of the window the time you had spent in lecturing the freshmen to earn some extra money; but also your heart. He had left you with a bunch of what ifs.
He was a destructive kind of beauty that had effortlessly messed you up. When your phone had started to buzz that day, he seemed about to pry more informations from you. And, truth to be told, you wished had stopped you.
But you had to get over the fact you would have never ever met him again. The expectations to see his face pop out in a city as big as that were reduced to zero.
The sudden arrival of a black Audi A5 Cabriolet captured the gazes and attentions of everyone around you, including your taciturn friend, who was reading through her notes to kill the time.
The driver parked right next to the giant oak casting an ominous shadow on the parking lot. In a matter of seconds, a group of students began to gather around the vehicle, cheering and inciting the mysterious man of the hour to reveal himself. You shared a confused look with Nanao, her eyes narrowing behind the fogged thick lenses of her glasses.
“Who is it?” she asked you lowly, scrunching up her nose at the deplorable parade of gold-diggers and lackeys hollering at the newcomer. If you were forced to witness to such pathetic scenes any longer, you were going to implode on the spot and paint the town red.
You shrugged, disinterested in investigating on the identity of the driver “Probably, the son of a benefactor. — you reasoned, before glancing at your wristwatch — We should get going. The Rector asked to meet us before the beginning of the competition” you reminded her, starting to make your way to the entrance of the building.
The crowd at your back began to hymn a name. Haschwalth. You heard it three, four, five times, until it stopped. You did not understand what was happening, not until a loud and booming voice sliced through the mostly silent courtyard and your attention was finally drawn back to that damned car.
“Sorry to disappoint you. Haschwalth could not come today” a guy announced, timbre dripping feigned resignation, only for people to start murmuring, chattering, before there was a ripple of applause again and the crowd dispersed around him to let him pass. It was in that moment that your eyes landed on his lean form. Tall, azure eyes and long black eyelashes, the dark-haired guy was elegantly walking towards you.
That stupid grin of his, self-assured, smug, reminded you of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the exchange student from Spain you were still in touch with, after his departure last year. Then again, this guy was on another level. He radiated opulence, his gaze was enough to make you feel as small as an ant he was about to walk over carelessly. By the time he stopped by you, eyes travelling up and down your form shamelessly, you were absolutely sure he would have squashed you like a bug, if he could have done it remaining unpunished.
He cocked his head to the side, barely looking at Nanao, before fixating his gaze on you. There was a hint of a devil in his eyes, but you refused to falter and give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm on your place.
“Tch, I knew my brother was a lucky bastard. Thanks to God, he had to fly back to Germany. — he said, his grin widening as he held his hand out for you to shake — Hubert Alexander Kleich, ma’am”.
“I don’t remember asking for your name” you blurted out, hell bent to keep your distance from him. He was troubles and migraines, you could sense it deep in your bones. A peacock too, a quality you had never appreciated in a man.
He huffed, hand on his chest as his eyes dramatically grew round in plain, feigned offence “You hurt my feelings, dear. — he cooed, squinting — I just thought it would have been appropriate telling you the name of the man that will make obscene moans fall from your lips tonight”.
You could not believe your eyes.
The two guys trailing behind his back like loyal lapdogs snickered at his comment and you clenched your jaw. Your hand twitched, itching to print its shape on his cheek. A gift from the Seireitei University.
Instead, you raised your chin defiantly “Y/N L/N. — you introduced yourself flatly — That’s the name of the only woman you have ever met who has refused to spread her legs for you”.
Cusses and glares were directed to you from Hubert’s friends. However, he only seemed to have grown genuinely interested in you. The thrill of the hunt excited him. He smiled, a grin even toothier than the one he had flashed you upon introducing himself.
“Feisty and silver-tongued. Fuck, my brother would have decidedly liked you. — he reasoned, gesturing for his friends to follow him inside the building — Too bad I met you first”.
Your stomach churned, whilst you watched him leave. For some damned reason, you wished you had met his brother first. You did not think he was a better version of him, but you were naively persuading yourself, he would have not disrespected you like that. Who did he think he was? If he could act and talk like that was probably to blame on his lineage, on his father’s blood . If he was a commoner, he would have already been punched straight on his pointy nose by a thug in the underground. Here, in his natural habitat, he felt entitled to do and say whatever he pleased.
Nanao sensed your discomfort, her hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly “Are you alright?”.
You exhaled through your nose, nodding your head “Yes, I am. Don’t worry about it”.
“You did not have to hold back not to get us kicked out of the contest, you know? — she added, her index pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose to fix them — If you had started to throw hands, I would have helped you”.
You shot her a side-eye, fighting back a chuckle at her bold affirmation “And having Mr. Kyorakoru resent me for having gotten you home all beaten up and dirty? No, thanks. — you said, before patting her back and escorting her inside the building, where a crowd of students were all lined up in the atrium to meet the competitors — But, as a matter of fact, I need you to use your brain to fight now. Let’s rip them to shreds” you whispered, as you both nodded your heads and proceeded to reach the center of the podium, with your heart thrumming in your chest and a gleam of sheer thirst for revenge in your eyes.
A sweet revenge indulging on your tongue, when you won the competition.
Nanao was in tears, whilst you held the cup above your heads triumphantly, purposefully flicking your gaze towards Hubert, inwardly wallowing in self-pity for having let victory slip through his fingers. He stared at you resentfully and, if looks could kill, you knew you would have been dead by now. Still, he smiled at you, bowing his head when you passed by him and kept your gaze transfixed on Mr. Kyoraku and Mr. Yamamoto, who had come to witness to the competition. They had taken their seats only once they were sure you and Nanao were too concentrated to pay attention to anything else happening around you. But, of course, you had noticed them. You always noticed everything. Just like now, when, in your peripheral, you could spot Hubert engaging in a conversation with two girls who had made it their mission to console him. Why had you felt the need to check on him?
Shrugging it off, you refocused your attention on the men in front of you.
Receiving praises from the two men you admired more than anyone else on this Earth was flattering and you would have loved to stay in their company for a little longer. Unfortunately, you had to use the restroom, though. Excusing yourself, you began to explore the building in search for the WC sign and, when you finally found it, you did not expect to be ambushed by your former opponent.
The moment you stepped inside, a large hand landed on the small of your back and gave you a push strong enough to make you ungraciously stagger inside the restroom. You hoped someone had accidentally bumped on you. Sadly, you could not expect politeness and respect by anyone attending that University. Casualness did not exist in that building. Was it one of the girls swooning around Hubert? Most likely, yes.
The moment you turned around, though, you let out an exhasperated sigh. What the Hell was he doing here? “Really now? What’s wrong with you? The last time I checked, this was the ladies’ restroom” you dryly pinpointed, folding your arms defensively against your chest, making sure there was a relatively safe distance between you two. A comfortable one, at least.
Hubert raised his hands “I come in peace, dear. I hope you will forgive my intrusion, but I wanted to have a word with you safe from prying eyes”.
“Fantastic. Well, now that you have, evaporate. I have no interest in wasting my time with you”.
“You are so cold! It’s almost spring, sweetheart. Don’t you think I deserve some warmth from you? — he teased you, long eyelashes fluttering as he scrutinized your face with longing, a smoldering gaze almost making the hair on your arms stand in a bordeline feeling of fright and attraction — But, I do understand your rebuttal in conversing with me”.
You snorted “Oh, really? That’s surprising. I did not esteem Neanderthals capable of detacting hostility and understanding human emotions” you stated, tone overly sarcastic whilst his grin grew wider.
You inwardly tensed, realizing he only seemed to get off at the feeling of being humiliated. What kind of a sick pervert were you talking to? All you wanted was for that small talk to end.
Hubert cleared his throat “First of all, congratulations for the well-deserved victory”.
“Thanks” you quipped, a thin-lipped smile crossing your face.
“Secondly, I would like to take you out for dinner, if you gave me the honor of accepting my humble invitation, naturally”.
You blinked once, twice, silence swallowing you two for the moments necessary for your brain to properly function and register exactly what he had just said. He could not be serious. Or, actually, he really wanted to take you out for dinner, but you were one hundred percent sure you two had different expectations on the dessert. You did not know a damn thing about him, except for his name, the brand of clothes he showed off around the Campus. By the way girls looked at him, dying at his feet, drooling like lapdogs waiting for a pat on their heads, eyes pleading for his attention, you could tell he had the fame of a Don Giovanni, a lothario. Honestly, you could not afford having feelings for someone emotionally unavaiable. For a bastard, a cocky, ignorant brute who had made it painly clear he yearned to get over with the competition to bang you. Too bad you were not a trophy for him to put on his personal exhibition of broken hearts.
“I am sincerely regretting not having screamed for help the moment you infiltrated the ladies’ restroom” you bemoaned, pinching the bridge of your nose in distress and turning your back at him for entering one of the black-painted doors of the five toilets located in that excessively luxurious restroom.
“No, wait, come on!” he called after you, your hand librating at your side, motioning for him to leave.
Still, through all the things cascading from his lips, when said certain words you would have never bet a cent he was going to pronounce, you halted. Your hand fell at your side, head tilting to the side as you twirled around to look at him. Hands on his hips, he was smiling nervously, as he dipped his head forward, seemingly dispirited. It suddenly felt like he was waiting for his death sentence and you, so ordinarily helpless against him, were holding the quill to write down his miserable end. To some extent, you felt embarrassed.
He was pleading you. You were still far from believing he was actually expressing his true colors, a semblance of fragility to you. However, he was making you kind of uncomfortable.
Was it real? Had you just started hearing things? That soulless fellow could have not begged a commoner to go out with him. Not when he had a plethora of girls ready to let him collect their hearts in a jar.
“Did you bet a conspicuous amount of money on me?” you asked him, your voice algid as you folded your arms against your chest.
“Did you gamble with your friends? Shall I expect one of them to come up to me and ask me if I want to go out with him instead?”.
Hubert, for the first time since you had met him, looked lost. Maybe it was the way his expression softened, or the gleam in his eyes turning benevolent, not mocking, but you believed him when he shook his head and simply said “You are not a bet. — he started — I would be a fool to bet on a girl who loves Jane Austen”.
You faltered “Wait, how do—”.
“Your bag. I’m not a stalker”.
Your bag. Right. You instinctively lowered your gaze on the canvas bag secured on your right shoulder. Your favorite Jane Austen’s quote, printed in blue capital letters, seemed to wink at you for having given you away to the very man you were striving to avoid. You huffed, leaning back against the door, eyes flitting back on Hubert who was inspecting you with anticipation, eager to hear your next refusal.
“At least, you are not illiterate. You have just earned yourself five points…” you trailed off, a timid half-smile crossing your glossy lips. You heard him chuckle, as you immediately refocused your attention somewhere else. What an expected turn of events. You were surely not prepared to open up to the chance of continuing a conversation with him; let alone considering accepting to go on a date with him.
He swept his tongue out, moistening his lower lip “Just five points? Not a date, too?”.
“You are not going to give up, are you?”.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not”.
And as you were finally alone in the toilet, you wondered if this was going to be the beginning of a fairytale, or a dark romance.
Hubert Alexander Kleich left you speechless. He had a bunch of shortcomings you had seen from miles away, but there were certain sides of him you would have never imagined he possessed. He read a lot and loved to waste expensive bottles of champagne. He had a knack for getting on your nerves, but he made it up to you by delivering fresh blue roses to your doorstep the morning after you had stormed out of a museum, or restaurant as a response to his stand-offish attitude.
But, up until now, he had yet to kiss you. Spring had arrived. You had agreed to go out on descreet dates regularly, learning more details about him with each encounter. You learned he had a father, an adoptive father, actually, who had taken a liking to him and another boy at the local orphanage in Germany. When his wife had passed away, Yhwach, this was the name of the noble man who had rescued him, had realized his life was miserable. Solitude had gotten the best of him. He had no one to spend the summer breaks, or to celebrate Christamas and other occurrences with. Therefore, he had opted for taking in two young boys and give them a chance at life.
But no matter how much you learned about him: you were constantly under the impression there was more about Hubert you had no access to.
When you sat across from Hubert, your eyes caught in the crystalline depths of his piercing blue gaze, a gaze that held the weight of secrets you could never hope to unravel, you found yourself conflicted. His life was a tapestry of extravagance, a reality you had once believed unattainable, and yet here you were, ensnared by his invitations. Fency dinners had almost become an habit by now and you hated how you seemed to gradually blend in. The first time he took you to the grandiose Opera House, the velvety crimson curtains framing a stage of gilded splendor welcomed you. Awe and still a tinge of discomfort washed over you. The opera was about to begin, when certain words left his mouth, sharp and deliberate, carrying the usual edge of coldness and his trademark cruelty he seemed to wear like a cloak.
“Do you enjoy the view?” Hubert asked, his voice smooth, as he leaned back in his plush seat, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, as he studied your reaction.
You nodded slowly, though inside, the opulence of it all overwhelmed you. You wondered if you had fallen in the rabbit hole, losing yourself in the magnificent world of ‘Alice in Wonderland’.
“It's breathtaking” was all you could say.
He smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing his features “Yes, it is. — he mused — But I suppose it is safe to say that by now, no matter where I take you, your whole attention is on something else entirely. Am I right?” he taunted you, his hot breath wafting over your right cheek, the stench of rum in his breath piercing your nose.
You did not know how to answer, because, admittedly, you had begun to wonder why you, a commoner, a girl who had always kept herself far away from people like him, were drawn to the incarnation of everything you viscerally despised, of the devil. Each date, each extravagant venue, left you both enamored and unsettled. Indeed, were you really that surprised when he winked and you clamped your mouth shut, grateful for the darkness enveloping the room.
A couple of weeks later, Hubert sat comfortably on the white sofa of your cramped living room. It was the first time he actually visited your small flat. Usually, when he came to pick you up, he awaited down the street in his car. This time, though, he claimed he needed to talk to you and you had no heart to let him out of your door. Were you nervous about showing him how and where you lived, where you spent hours studying, or resting? Despite how cozy it was, you were proud of you little world full of books, flowers in vases and the vanilla scented candles on the shelves you liked to light up to remind yourself of the sweet fragrance twirling around the bakery nearby your parents’ house. You were kind of nostalgic of the good old times, when you came back from high school and dropped by that shop to buy some cookies.
“You might feel like a bird in a cage. It’s not that big of a space, but… Well, that’s my house” you started, shrugging and blowing softly on a burned match you had used to light of a candle.
Hubert smiled “Actually, I feel like someone wrapped me in a cocoon of blankets. It’s comforting. I like it” he commented, folding his sunglasses and tucking them in the breast-pocket of his white shirt.
“Even if my whole flat is as big as the walk-in wardrobe of the girls you are used to? They live in castles” you sarcastically remarked, if anything only to poke fun at him for his statement.
As per usual, he stunned you in silence “What use may I draw from a castle if you are not there?”.
You felt your face heat up in shame and frustration, your feet moving on their own accord to lead you to a nearby chair besides the window. The cool breeze coming from outside gently caressed your skin and you found yourself watching the way goosebumps raised on your arms. You wondered if it was for the contrasting temperature of your body and the early spring days, or if it was for the way Hubert played his cards way too good for your own likings and sanity.
“Stop the cackle, you told me you had something to tell me” you switched the topic of the conversation, fumbling with the charms of your bracelet to train your gaze on something else that was not him, gloriously sitting on your sofa as if it was his throne.
“Oh, yes, I do have something to tell you! You see, I have a proposition for you, dear”.
You blinked quickly, gaze reluctantly refocusing on him “Elaborate”.
“My brother will not join me for the spring break, which means I am going to spend the holidays all by myself in the country manor… — he trailed off, before a glint of malice sparkled in his eyes — Unless you agree to keep me company”.
The way you stared at him made it look like he had just sworn like a trooper. The only sound audible in the living room was the clock ticking on the wall and some driver furiously honking in the traffic down the streets. The idea of sharing a roof with him for a few days made your stomach churn in apprehension. Were you really ready to sleep next to him? Meeting his gaze early in the morning, with messy hair and a tired smile on your face? You kind of were, naturally. You were no child and were mature enough for this, but could you really bear the thought of staying with him? He was getting serious. It was not a real commitment, still it was an important step in whatever relationship you two had.
You only realised for how long you had kept your mouth shut, when he cleared his throat and he snapped you out of your overthinking session.
“When I say I like to leave girls speechless, I don’t really mean it, you know… Are you coming?” he crooned, craning his neck back and gazing at your rigid frame in amusement.
“I can’t stay over the whole week. A couple of days, at best” you piped out then, your ears ringing as his face lit up and he devilishly winked at you.
Hubert beamed “Which is still a yes, though”.
You rolled your eyes, nodding your head “Yes, it is, but… Don’t make me regret it”.
“Come on, you never regretted anything since we have started dating”.
Hubert chuckled “Yeah, whatever you say. Hanging around, mentally undressing each others, eye-fucking—”.
You felt your cheeks boiling, as you tossed a nearby pen at him, which he dodged gracefully. After a few seconds, you were both laughing together. Deep down, you began to rationalise the fact you liked him, even though he was not exactly the man you had seen yourself dating a few weeks ago.
Beneath the deluge, the stable became a sanctuary of warmth and familiarity, though even its walls could not entirely protect you two. The horses, restless from the storm’s fury, snorted and shuffled in their stalls, their hooves tapping against the wet earth in a rhythm that might have been comforting were it not for the awkward situation you were in.
He, of course, was unperturbed. Tall, poised, and, on the surface, at least, disdainfully indifferent to the rain that plastered his perfectly styled hair against his forehead and soaked through his well-cut jacket. His usual smugness was replaced by an expression of vague irritation, the kind reserved for inconveniences he had long learned to tolerate without regard. The collar of his white shirt, now clinging to his neck like an unwanted guest, only heightened the dissonance between his usual immaculate appearance and the current, rather pitiful state of affairs. It was overall almost funny looking at him in such a disheveled state.
Beside him, though in stark contrast to his collected demeanor, you were shaking like a leaf. Your face was flushed with the embarrassment of your own drenched state, your white, simple dress clinging to your body like a second skin, the water dripping from your hair in silken streams. Yet, according to him, there was something almost endearing in your disarray, as though the rain had swept away the last remnants of your restraint, revealing a naturalness, a vulnerability, that you rarely allowed him to see.
You met his gaze, but only briefly, your eyes flitting down to the muddy ground, as you uncomfortably shifted on your place. You were shuddering. What was supposed to be a relaxing stroll around the stables of his country manor had turned out to be a nightmare. The sun had clearly deceived you. Also, it was not like you had had the time to change your clothes before this small trip to explore the fields around the manor. Hubert was so eager to show you around that, after a quick lunch, he had dragged you up the hills, barely stopping to stabilize your balance when you stumbled or tripped on a rock.
“Dang” Hubert sighed, slicking his once perfectly combed hair back, his eyes transifixed on landscape outside and the sudden downpour forcing you two to stay in the stables, poorly dressed for the chilly weather. It was spring. The brisk air was not supposed to make you almost chatter your teeth.
Your unsual silence made him switch his attention on you. He frowned, tilting his head to the side “Are you alright? Is that goosebumps I see on your arms?”.
You glided your hands up and down your forearms in a futile attempt to warm yourself up “Yeah… I forgot to bring my jacket on our way out of the manor”.
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry. Here, take this. — he stated, his timbre strangely serious as he shrugged his jacket off of his broad shoulders and draped it over yours so gentlemanly you hated yourself for yearning to be the object of his attention and dedication — I was in such a hurry to show you where I liked to hide myself when I argued with my father that I neglected you”.
You were almost touched. He had never mentioned arguments with his family. Just some altercations with his brother, but nothing that could not be fixed with a night out at the pub with two jugs of beer and a silent excuse to express through knowing looks. You wanted to ask him more about that, about his private life, but you were truly freezing and you merely thanked him with a small smile.
Hubert, however, did not seem to appreciate the way you were reacting and feeling. The moment he dropped on his knee, hand clutching yours between his ones, as if the world was going to end in that very instant, you wondered what had got into him. His white pants were ruined by now and you inwardly flinched, at the squealching sound of his knee against the muddy floor.
“I made such an unforgivable mistake! How will you ever forgive me, for having caused you discomfort and apprehension? Oh, my fairl ady, will you still be willing to donate your heart to me, leave it in my hands for me to cherish and preservate at the cost of my life? Say you will and I may die happily, right here, right now, blessed by the sight of your eyes, the only source of light in this obscure world!” he dramatically begged you, head lowered reverently as you bursted out laughing, your cheeks heating up once again as you tried to free your hand from his grip.
“No, no, I cannot do it, milady! I am nothing but a worm and, as such, I deserve to reunite with the earth!”.
“Oh, gosh, a worm? Honestly, I thought Princes turned into frogs at best…”.
“Not me. An evil witch besowed such a cruel punishment on me”.
You sighed, smiling amusedly “Oh, that’s too bad then”.
He halted, smirking “Wait… Would you still kiss me, if I were a worm?”.
Hubert stopped, eyes glinting in a ounce of malice and an hint of yearn “On what, my darling?”.
You knelt down, careful not to stain your dress in the process, whilst your free hand joined his one, cupping the back of his hand hesitantly “Will the Prince leave the Princess alone, after she breaks the curse with the kiss?”.
There you were, asking the one question you wished to be left unspoken, unanswered. When you had agreed in hanging around with him, you had zero expectation on the possibility to actually build a relationship with him. Despite that, something had gradually changed in you, in the way you saw him under different lights, like now, when he was cut off from the elitist reality he lived in. He was just a guy, drenched, in a white shirt and tailored pants, attempting to cheer you up while subtly flirting. Could you really blame yourself for wanting him to say he was going to stay, that he was going to keep you?
“If he left, he would lose his savior. — he reasoned, hand reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your head to the side, angling it in a optimal position for his lips to reach yours — And no one who is in his right mind would ever wish to be parted from someone who saved his life”.
The realisation he was kissing you was the equivalent of letting yourself dive slowly into a tub. Slipping under, sweetly, tenderly, amiably. Warm lips captured yours in a gentle way you had not believed he possessed up until now. He betwitched you, tongue asking for the permission to enter your mouth by tapping on your bottom lip. And you let him in. His hands cradled your face in his hands, thumbs grazing your cheekbones reverently, before he pulled back and stood up, yanking you along with him, until you collided against his chest.
He took a deep breath, before he led you in a empty and strangely tidy room, where soft straw laid on the floor, inviting the visitors to just lay down and relax. Hubert did not give you much time to think about it. He was already unbuttoning his shirt, glueing your eyes to him, to his chiseled abs peeking out of the lapels of his shirt. Noticing you were merely gazing at his body, not daring to trace the outline of his defined muscles, or take action, he grasped your hand and pressed it over his chest. You felt him flex his pectorals slightly, underneath your palm. Hubert was undeniably one of the most handsome men you had ever had the luck to meet. His smirk radiated confidence now and a cockiness deriving from the experience he had gained through years of making girls fall at his feet. You, on the other hand, had had your serious relationships. A couple of ones at best, but now you could not remember when was the last time you had felt that hungry for someone too. And, above all, when was the last time you had made love to someone? The phantom of a guy with misty grey eyes and a black choker appeared in your dazed mind. A name, Shuhei Hisagi, the guy you had thought was going to be yours completely, popped in beneath your now closed eyelids. Everything had gone decently, until he had confessed you that you could have never overshadowed the bright smile of Rangiku Matsumoto, the eccentric model wannabe he had lost his heart for. But that was the past.
You relaxed, when Hubert’s lips traced the veins of your neck, suckling on a tender, sensitive spot below your jawline. Nimble fingers lowered the straps of your dress, allowing the garment to pool down at your feet. You shuddered when the chilly air nipped at your exposed flesh, but you had no time to concentrate on anything else besides the feeling of a hand gliding down your abdomen and slipping underneath the fabric of your flimsy underwear. You gasped, out of the stupor of not having realised he had backed you up against the wall. Your eyes, half-lidded, memorized each wrinkle at the corner of his eyes, his Luciferian grin when the pads of his fingers made contact with your moist labia. The breathy moan you gifted him made Hubert rejoice, delight oozing from his eyes, whilst his lips devoured your again.
“You can’t do that, you know? Making me hard like that, to the point I have no choice but to screw you like a damn oafish stableman” he rasped out, right when his fingers were buried knuckle deep in your dripping opening.
You whined, a knot forming between your eyebrows, wanton crystal clear in the way you rocked your hips against his hand, following his lead “Indecorous, indeed. — you agreed, your hands scrambling to unbuckle the belt of his trousers — But do you think it was fair of you to make me desperate for a kiss, only to go all the way down in a matter of seconds?”.
Hubert’s fingers curled into your core, your thighs quivering as you lolled your head back in bliss, chest heaving as if you were struggling to breath in fresh air that was not polluted by the ashes of your heart he was leaving behind, burning whatever remained of you to the ground.
“Forgive me, sweetheart, for I am not one of the perfect men Jane Austen wrote about. — he drawled, tugging your panties down your legs to help you remove them completely — But my brother is. You chose the wrong man to give your heart to”.
Those words would have haunted you forever.
Moments later, you were laying down, the straw your bed, prickling your skin, with each brutal thrust of Hubert’s hips. He definitely knew what he was doing. It was passionate, lewd, twisted, especially in the way he seemed to sneer at the sight of you experiencing something among pleasure and pain. It had never happened before. It felt like Hubert fucked you to claim you, to print his name in capital letters in your insides.
Folded in half, he was holding your ankles in his hands, cock bullying your gummy walls in greed. Teeth gritted, he grunted ferally, when you twitched beneath him.
“Gorgeous! Fuck— I need to be careful with you! I don’t want anyone to look at you, I don’t even want to imagine someone else having the same view I have now. No one else, no, I’m the last man you’re fucking for the rest of your life” he almost shouted, when you arched your back and your walls squeezed him up to warn him you were about to cross the line of the orgasm.
You did not pay much attention to the dirty, possessive words he was hissing, not when you were irrevocably head of heels for him, or so you thought.
“Hubert! Hubert, I’m about to…”.
He kissed you, thumb reaching down between you two as he furiously rubbed over your throbbing clitoris to help you reach your climax.
“Cum all over my cock, baby. Yeah, like that, let it out on me”.
And you loathed, months later, how your body and heart leapt at his commands. Just like you hated how good it felt when he pulled out to spill his seed on your belly, warm droplets heating you up for the rest of the day, until the storm passed.
You were his girlfriend and he told everyone he met he was in love with you. At first, he really had you fooled too. Showered in gifts, attention, affection, romantic gestures you had daydreamed of for years in your head, whilst listening to music on your bed, before succumbing to sleep, you were genuinely ecstatic about your lovestory. You were radiant and your friends noticed it too.
But there were times you felt like he was still the heartless, spiteful guy who would have shoved your head in the toilet only to entertain his friends. When he organized dinners with his colleagues, or meetings at the bars, you felt totally out of place, almost like a small animal his friends wanted to dissect on the table to pass the time. The girls were the worst. Candace, a green-haired girl who truly seemed to hate you with every molecule of her body was the incarnation of every woman’s nightmare.
She did not have much brains and wit to win an argument with you, but she surely knew how to catch Hubert’s attention and emotionally scar you.
When you confronted him about the topic, all he did was lighting up a cigarette and shrug it off as if you were a madwoman “Candace is just a childhood friend! Also, I can’t really ignore her existence. Her father is a dear friend of mine”.
You were becoming paranoid. Everywhere you went, you saw her. At first, you thought it was inevitable. She was practically a star, the most popular girl of the Campus, but then you found yourself facing the fact that she always tagged along because your boyfriend invited her. What hurt the most was the way she seemed to be a shooting star for him. The way he laughed with her, the way she let him buy her drinks, or grinding against him whilst dancing drove you nuts.
One night, you were sipping on your drink, demoralized, crestfallen even, when one of Hubert’s friends slided on the stool next yours. Askin Nakk le Vaar, the eclectic icon and, actually, one of the very few people who did not appear to crave your head to parade across the city on a spear.
“How many drinks did you have?” he quizzically inquired, arching a long, dark eyebrow accusingly.
“I don’t know…” you admitted, swirling your glass of wine in its goblet.
“Woah, are you really that far gone that you have lost count? Well, darlin’, let Askin bring you back on Earth. This is your fourth refill. — he informed you, snatching the glass from you and sliding it on the counter out of your reach — I don’t really want you puking in the backseat of my car, alright?” he pressed, slicking back the trademark cowlick constantly dangling over his sharp visage. Maybe, in other circumstances, you would have laughed it off, but not now.
Your throat tightened, glossy eyes growing round as you slammed your palm over the polished black counter “Have you seen them, Askin? How am I not supposed to drown myself in alcohol, when he stares at her the way he should look at me? I cannot fucking do it anymore”.
He glanced above his shoulder at the people you were talking about, mildly disinterested, but partially understanding the reason of your distress.
“Horrific, I know, but are you really that surprised? I mean, everyone knows old flames rarely extinguish” he earnestly averred, crushing your heart in a million splinters. Old flames? What was he talking about? They had never been a couple, Hubert had assured you they had only grown up together.
The way you gazed into Askin’s eyes, disheartened, made him realise you did not know a thing about what he was talking about. For a second, he gave you the impression he was mortified.
“Oh, dear, I thought you—”.
“Can you drive me home, please?”.
The next day, your flat witnessed to a destructive hurricane. You smashed a vase against the wall, while Hubert raised his voice at how pathetic you were over such a trivial detail he had omitted. You begged him to leave and never come back again, but he stayed. He stayed because he declared to love you again and, for God’s sake, you were so desperate for some compassion and love that you let him lull you to sleep, after a rough make out session.
The following week, you landed in Germany. ‘Spending the summer break together was therapeutic for relationships worth to be saved’ and so he had convinced you to join him in his splendid family manor by the shores of the so-called Bavarian Sea, the Chiemsee lake near Rosenheim. He claimed it would have also been the perfect occasion for you to meet his family, to bond with them. You wondered if you were going to be welcomed by the infamous Yhwach, by Hubert’s brother and the whole entourage loyal courtiers surrounding them. Expressing your worries to your boyfriend was decidedly useless. He spent the whole time travelling to Germany sleeping, clueless of your terrible stomachache and the anxiety obnubilating your mind. He was leading you to the lion’s den, expecting you to mold yourself to his will, blending in as if it was your second nature.
The moment you entered the building, your shoes skimmed over the polished marble floor, your steps unsure, your eyes memorizing the angelic sculptures decorating the atrium, the paintings, depicting European battles in the gloomy magnificence of black horses, shiny armors and suffering men fallen on the ground with their glassy eyes pinning the spectator on the spot. If you did not know it was a private residence, you would have thought you were in a museum. Some butlers were already moving your belogings upstairs, Hubert’s hand ghosting over the small of your back as he prompted you to move forwards.
“Home sweet home! I will give you a tour of the house later today. — he said, as he led you to the west wing of manor, down to intricate corridors highly disorienting — They are waiting for us in a place I am pretty sure you are going to grow fond of” Hubert added, only for your heart to thrum against your ribcage so violently you were almost out of breath. There was no turning back now. You were one hundred percent sure you were going to face the two guardian monsters of the house, there was not going to be a cliché happy ending for the Princess this time around.
And so, you held your breath until you reached the terrace. The landscape was breathtaking. The eerie atmosphere you were expecting to be swallowed by was not there at all, but it was not due to the presence of a dark-haired man sitting on a large vimini sofa, staring directly at you from the moment you entered that small angle of Paradise on Earth. No. It was for the slender guy standing next to him. The collar of his button-down was folded over a burgundy tie, long and luscious blond hair draped over his shoulder, but tied by a ribbon. You froze solid and so did he, upon meeting your gaze.
If it was a twisted prank, you were not liking it at all. In a instant, you were not in Germany anymore. You were wearing winter clothes, brooding over the rare edition of the novel that handsome guy had bought. You had wondered for months where he was, if you were ever going to meet him again. Only for what? For finding out he was your brother-in-law. Your stomach churned and your mouth felt like chalk, when Hubert clutched your hand and approached the two men with a cheeky smile.
“Father, brother! I’m back home with a surprise!” he announced, pushing you towards them with a crooked smile plastered over his face.
You swallowed down the lump in your throat and held your hand out for Hubert’s father to shake “Good evening, sir. I’m Y/N L/N—”.
“She’s my girlfriend” Hubert cut you off sharply, as if you did not even had the right to introduce yourself, to have a name, an identity, dignity. You were just ‘Hubert’s girlfriend’.
“It is an immense pleasure for me to meet you. My son had told me you were beautiful. I must say he did not make you justice” Yhwach stated, shaking your hand firmly as his dark eyes pierced your soul through your own pupils. His comment was probably sincere, but you still felt like it was just him playing the role of a supportive father for his son.
“Thank you, sir” you meekly replied, lowering your gaze, only for Hubert’s voice to slice through the silence again.
He swung his arm around his brother’s shoulders, winking at him before saying “What a fine piece of ass, huh? And guess what? I am the one who screws her”.
If you could make a wish and have it granted immediately, you would have chosen for the ground to crack open and let you fall into it. You were offended, humiliated, your lips parted in a silent gasp of indignation. The sad gleam in your eyes went unnoticed by your boyfriend, but not by his brother.
“I wonder how such a delicate person could have even spared a glance at some vulgar boor like you” the blond guy said, offering you his hand.
As if hypnotized, you accepted it and he gently squeezed it “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Haschwalth” he introduced himself. Haschwalth. The man you should have met at the University as your opponent on the contest, the man fate was continuously trying to make you avoid. The man you had hated and anguished for in the same day at the library.
Hubert was wrong. You did not grow fond of the terrace. Most of the days, it was overcrowded. Too many people, too many questions. Every single day, Yhwach invited people over and Hubert did not bother standing by your side to help you cope with the situation. You were often alone, a perfect lamb to the slaughter for the upper class to torture, denigrate. Where could a sweet girl like you find peace, if not in the huge library.
And where did things take a turn, if not among the shelves of the library?
You were not aware someone else was escaping reality in the very room you had chosen to hide in. Your fingers were leisurely running over the hard-covers of the books on the shelves, your eyes reading the titles in appreciation. Suddenly, when you circled the massive piece of forniture, you stopped in your tracks upon setting your eyes on Haschwalth. He was sitting on a leather armchair, a book in his hand, icy eyes flicking up to meet yours.
“Oh— I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was someone else in here” you apologized, shaking your head and turning around to leave.
“Stay, please. Do not make it an habit running away from me” Haschwalth stated smoothly, standing up and setting a bookmark in his novel before closing it. He did remember then. He remembered you for real.
You coyly looked at him, leaning your back against the bookshelf “It was about time someone addressed the elephant in the room, huh? Life is unpredictable” you smiled faintly.
Haschwalth did not move an inch, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his high cheekbones. He was an angelic kind of beauty in stark contrast of Hubert’s one, foreshadowing the demons he unleshed against those close to him.
“I am glad we somehow have found a way to be in touch, to continue our unfinished conversation.— he started, his tone solemn, but so dramatically grief-striken — Honestly, I would have never imagined the next time I was going to talk to you, it would have been as a brother-in-law”.
You thought you were mistaking his intention and the undertone of his words, at first. He had sown the seed of doubt in your mind. Did Haschwalth want you to be more than a brother-in-law for you? Had he ever wished that the fateful day you met at the library, you could have stayed and talked to him more? You could not throw accusations at him. You were assuming things, most likely. Your unquiet spirit did not cooperate in helping you think straight.
You bit your lower lip “Quite comical, indeed”.
“Comical? To me it sounds… Like a tragedy”.
You straightened your back, gaze hardening “No one is dead, Haschwalth”.
“Physically, without the shadow of a doubt. — he retorted, standing up and ambling towards you with the same elegant shamble you remembered from when you first met — But there are so many ways of dying without leaving this world”.
Your hands automatically opened to welcome the volume he was handing you, before disappearing from your sight and leaving you in a turmoil of emotions worse than a catastrophic earthquake. Lowering your gaze, you read the title of the book he was reading and you knew there would have not been rest for you anywhere in that manor.
“Othello, the Moor of Venice”.
Ten days into your vacation and tears streamed down your face. You had learned to keep your emotions on check in public, only to seek desolate places to have a full meltdown. Hubert had turned back into the same cold bastard he used to be before he convinced you that he wanted a chance to win your heart. He went out without paying any mind to you, he stayed away from entire days, even. He drunk too much, he denigrated your lifestyle and even your friends.
Not to mention, how he shamelessly groped you under the judgmental eyes of his father and his friends. Additionally, if it was not Candace the girl of the hour, it was Bambietta, that ignorant witch always sitting by your boyfriend at any given occasion. Arguments were getting violent and had even navigated online to buy yourself a ticket to go back home. What had stopped you was Haschwalth.
You were sobbing in the garden, curled up in a ball next to the garage. You could barely focus on the screen. Your vision was blurry and your hands shook for the umpteenth panic attack. When you heard some footsteps approaching you, steady, firm, you jumped back on your feet and tried to dash away in a frantic run.
You stopped, leaning against the wall, hand waving in the air in defeat “I’m sorry. It’s not a good moment”.
“It’s never a good moment, when you leave my boyfriend’s bedroom. What has he done now?”.
You scoffed, wiping your tears off of your face “I want to go home, Haschwalth. He’s a monster”.
“If I can be helpful in any way, please, tell me”.
“Then help me escape. Drive me to the airport”.
“I can’t do that” Haschwalth said, gaze lowering on the white and greyish pebbles beneath his feet.
You snorted, stomping your foot in a sudden rage “Yes, you can! Actually, you really could! But, of course, you would never go against your brother”.
“It’s because of my selfish, ardent desire to have you here with me, alright? The Hell with my brother, I would kill him to see you smile”.
And that time, it was you the one who left. You ran off, the knot in your throat unbearable. He had no right to tell you such scandalous things. You had seen the way he looked at you, the way he even stood up to defend you when Hubert crossed the line, or the way he seemed genuinely concerned about your mental health. But he was your brother-in-law. You were not his. Sadly. You hated yourself for even considering getting your revenge on Hubert by bonding with Haschwalth. But, when only a week later, you saw Hubert making out with Bambietta at the local festival down the shores of the lake, you lost the last shred of respect for him that was left in you.
Haschwalth saw you abandon the party. Your eyes, full of tears, sparkled more than the surface of the water umder the moonlight. The boathouse. You had chosen another good hideout to lock yourself away from the cruel world tearing you apart. You had not heard him enter, your first instinct was to garb a lantern and toss it at the intruder.
“Out of here!” you roared, voice strained, only for you to choke out an apology the moment Haschwalth dodged the object, watching it explode in small piece against the wooden wall beside his head.
He stood there silently, before closing the door at his back, his blue eyes searched for yours “What did he do?”.
“Is it even important by now?”.
You sniffed, the small of your back resting against a small table, hands curled around the edges “I have been looking for him for hours, you know? Only to see him with Bambietta. I cannot tolerate the sight of his face anymore, Haschwalth”.
He clenched his fists down his sides. He would have wiped his brother’s face off of this world for you, if only you asked him to. But you were too sweet for that and he was not that type of man anyway. But he had long forgotten his morals. What kind of a good man would have ever thought of stealing his brother’s girlfriend, desiring her, ardently wishing for him to die and be the one to console her? You were such a fine wine to be inhebriated by.
“I will put an end to this. Just say the word and I will” Haschwalth offered again, stepping closer to you. But you shook your head, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like a newborn baby clinging to her mother.
“Not for you? You probably don’t understand that my hate for my brother has been generated by the way he is treating you. If only you were mine, if only I had not taken the plane for Berlin that morning—”.
He thought he was hearing things. But when he looked at your face and gazed at your glossy eyes, practically pleading him to seal his promise to do anything you demanded of him, Haschwalth knew he was done for. It should have been a rough kiss, and bruising one. Instead it was a smoldering, mindblowing kiss that set your bodies on fire. Enveloped by the flames of that destructive action, you moaned softly against his lips and allowed him to slide his hands beneath your thighs, picking you up effortlessly and settling you on top of the table. The skirt of your dress had hiked up, granting him the full access to your most delicate parts.
“It should have been me, from the beginning”.
“Maybe we were not meant to be” you breathlessly replied, lolling your head back, while he carefully pushed your underwear to the side.
“I would sail past the sirens and slay dragons to make us work”.
The rest of the conversation was lost in your moans, high-pitched, sensual, as he dropped to your knees and lapped at your core as if he was starving. Your thighs squeezed his head, unintentionally, earning a groan from him. Your fingers threaded through his silky hair, tugging at them occasionally, as you whimpered out for him. He lavished your body as if you were a goddess. Never, never in your life you had ever felt like that.
The moment he was nestled deep inside of you, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips, Haschwalth made sure each thrust stroke that sweet spot within you that made you cry for him, cry for more. Cry to the point you even asked him to do the most risky thing you two could have ever done.
“I have never been more sure about anything in my life” you declared, kissing him fondly, right when he twitched into you. His climax, his seed spurting into thick ropes painting your inside of a pearly tint, the flag of a pirate who had conquered an island belonging to a King.
But Haschwalth knew that he was going to be banished from that household. Did it really matter, though, when he had you? And the best part of it was that he met Hubert’s cloudy eyes theough the window at your back.
Hello there! This took me longer than I had anticipated. Unfortunately, I am very busy, but I promise I am really doing my best to finish my works. Hopefully, you have enjoyed this one-shot. I am aware this is not for the faint of heart, but I am experimenting with my style and I have decided to be a little more ‘selfish’, when it comes down to what to write. Comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!
Tags: @villainsrtasty @my-my-my @jesurum-says-hi @velaenam @carnationdoe @idkyetwow @bucciaratizippers
Credits for the dividers: @cafekitsune
