Anais

“—in theatrics unbecoming of your rank and name. As a representative of your house and this district, you are expected to conduct yourself with dignity. Not barge into court matters half-dressed and spouting sarcasm as if—”

“I’m bored,” you sighed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I’m bored, Byakuya. You’ve been yapping for eight minutes. Eight whole minutes. And every sentence sounds like you’re reading off an old reprimand scroll.”

Abruptly he stepped forward, his fingers curling against his robes in the attempt to mask their twitching. “Do not trivialise this discussion. Your actions—”

Before he would finished his sentence, you heaved heavily while maintaining eyes contact and reached your fingers upwards to grasp the edge of your kosode before yanking it apart, baring your breasts to the slightly chill room and his gaze. Your nipples were already perked from the change in air, high and tight, like you were doing this entirely on purpose.

The silence hit like a sealed barrier, and for once, Byakuya’s mouth had halfway hit the floor, eyes slightly widened while his words died on his tongue.

“What were you saying again?” you coyly whispered, tilting your head and pushing your chest out a little more. The action prompting your breasts to shake.

Not once did his stare waver. As for his words? Vanished into the air. You could see the way his throat slowly bobbed as he swallowed, while his eyes, despite his immense training, darted downward—twice.

“You were saying something about dignity? Blah, blah, blah…” Your hands reached up to cup your tits and give them a little lift, causing him to inhale deeply, but softly. “Something about how I shouldn’t ‘indulge in theatrics’? Like these ones?”

He looked like a man physically trying to reboot his entire mind as he stood there with his arms limp at his sides.

“I mean,” you went on casually, “I could button back up. But you look like you’re thinking more clearly now. Maybe I should flash you at the start of every argument. Might save time.”

For the first, he blinked and broke out of his spell, but his voice was as hoarse as expected. “That is wholly inappropriate.”

“Mhm. So is starting a lecture before I’ve even finished breakfast.”

Moving closer until you were right before him, you leaned in for your breasts brushed his chest through his kosode.

“You gonna keep going, or are you finished being my noble disciplinarian for the day?”

His lips twitched just a fraction, but the faint smirk was there.

“You may cover up now.”

You grinned. “Only if you say please.”

Fortunately for you, he didn’t say please and you didn’t cover up. Instead, the argument led to the rest of your closes came off…as well as his.

⋆˚✿˖° Urahara Kisuke

“You knew that would make things worse! But you still opened your mouth and—no, don’t do that thing with your eyes—don’t look at me like I’m the one being irrational when you—”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you retorted, sitting with arms folded across your chest. “You’re ranting over something that doesn’t even matter.”

“Doesn’t—?!” He stopped mid-step, face twisting into disbelief. “You made a deal with Kurotsuchi! Kurotsuchi, of all people! That’s like asking a Hollow to babysit a Shinigami’s child!”

That comparison made you flinched a little, but your tolerance was already threadbare. “He owed me a favour, so I cashed it in. End of story.”

“You don’t make side deals with men like that. You know what kind of twisted shit he pulls, and you think I’m just supposed to shrug and go, ‘Oh well, she’ll probably survive’?” he growled much darker than his usual argumentative tone.

Rolling your eyes, utterly exhausted, you clearly didn’t have the strength for this—for his righteous anger, for the way he got when he cared too much but refused to call it that. And the direction he was still heading, waving his arms like he needed to physically swat away the idiocy of your actions, was exhausting.

“Do you even think about what I have to do to clean up after you when you get in over your head? Or do you just assume I’ll come running to patch up whatever mess you leave behind? Because if you do, then you clearly don’t—”

Zoning out his voice, you calmly reached up and unbuttoned your top mid-rant until the fabric fell open just enough to bare your tits fully. Not a single word followed your actions, just a simple recline of your position against the chair and a smug expression crossing your face as you stared at him.

Whatever words he was halfway into prattling, died on his tongue as his jaw reached the floor. A subtle blink, once, then twice, before his lashes batted against his cheeks. Then very slowly, as if the air itself had stopped working in his lungs, he took a breath and whispered, “...Are you serious right now?”

You shrugged with a nonchalant hum, tits still out, eyes daring him to continue like it was a totally normal negotiation strategy.

Stunned in silence, his eyes dropped without his permission, flicking to your chest, then back to your face. Then dropped again, lingering this time, eyes dragging over the swell of each breast like he was trying to memorise the curves that’d just sucker-punched his entire argument into oblivion.

“I was—what were we—” He cleared his throat, visibly recalibrating. “We were fighting. Right. Something about...ethics, and possibly your complete lack of them—wait no, that’s not what I meant—”

Encouraged by his reaction, you gave your tits a subtle little bounce, just enough to send them jiggling. Not even seductive—just disrespectful enough to underline your complete disinterest in continuing the conversation.

Kisuke swore under his breath and dragged a hand down his face, grinning despite himself.

“This is against proper argumentative ethics,” he muttered. “Weaponised nudity is a crime.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

He was still staring, trying and failing to look serious. “You can’t just flash me mid-rant and think it’s a valid strategy.”

“But I did flash you mid-rant. And you stopped ranting. That’s called success.”

With a heavy, defeated sigh, he dropped onto the floor in front of you, reaching out with both hands to cup your tits like they were sacred objects now deserving proper attention, and gave them a gentle squeeze, thumbing your nipples until they hardened under his touch, eyes softening, frustration draining from his face. “You’re still reckless,” he muttered quietly, kissing the curve of one breast. “Still infuriating. Still dangerously attractive when you do dumb shit.”

You only hummed, letting his tongue drag over your nipple with slow, lazy strokes, now arching into his mouth just to hear the way he moaned at the taste of you. Threading your fingers through his messy blond hair as he licked and sucked, hot breath now replacing angry words, tongue circling like he was trying to replace every insult with worship, you grinned

“You’re not mad anymore?” you teased.

“Oh, I’m furious,” he muttered, muffled by your tits. “But I’m also busy.”

⋆˚✿˖° Izuru Kira

You quiet-toned boyfriend was never one to raise his voice, but today he was pacing—actually pacing—across the garden of the 3rd Division barracks with that deep crease in his brow and his arms moving in exaggerated frustration. The golden sunlight made his blond hair gleam, and his lieutenant badge clinked slightly as he turned, again and again, caught in the rhythm of his agitation.

“You could have waited, at least,” he grumbled, gesturing with a sharp motion of his hand. “I was in the middle of resolving the forms with the 5th, and you just—you just charged in like it was a battlefield!”

“It was an interdivisional meeting, Kira. Not a hostage situation.”

“That’s not the point! You undermined the entire chain of command, again! Do you even know how much work I’ve had to do to smooth over that stunt?! You—”

He turned again, mid-rant, hands now dragging through his hair in exasperation. It wasn’t even about the meeting anymore—his rants always turned into a swirl of emotional exhaustion and pent-up guilt.

“I try to defend you,” he muttered, half to himself and pacing faster. “Every time you do something like this. Every time I tell them, no, she means well. She’s just passionate. But you keep—you keep doing it, and I—”

“Kira.”

Ignoring you, going off again about your ‘pattern of disruption,’ your ‘habit of steamrolling meetings,’ and how ‘just once’ he wished he didn’t have to apologise for you to half the Gotei-13.

“Izuru.”

“What?!” he barked, turning around mid-stride—and froze.

There you had already stood with your kosode pulled open and your breasts on display. You weren’t even wearing your binder underneath—it was warm today—and the look on his face was a slow-motion slide from stunned to panicked. Round eyes, mouth hitting the ground, and stiff shoulders; hilarious.

“You were saying something about apologising for me?”

“I—what—what are you doing?!”

“Interrupting your panic spiral. Successfully, I might add.”

Spiralling into a further panic, he started waving his hands and searching around like someone might be watching, which was rich considering you were deep in the garden where no one ever came this time of day. “You—you can’t just—this is—!”

“Can’t just what, Izuru?” you grinned while stepping forward for your breasts to meet his chest.

Internally dying, he stared directly at your chest, then visibly flinched and forced his eyes up to the sky. “You’re not even listening to me,” he mumbled.

“Nope,” you said cheerfully. “Because you weren’t saying anything helpful. You were just stress-spiralling like usual, and I didn’t want to waste another thirty minutes waiting for you to reach the end of your guilt parade.”

“This isn’t how you end an argument!” he hissed, still refusing to look directly at you. “This is—this is inappropriate! This is harassment!”

“Oh please. You’ve been in love with these tits since the first time I rode you in the hot springs that one winter night.”

“That’s—that’s not—” His mouth flapped like a goldfish, opening and closing repeatedly, unable to formulate a proper statement.

“Come on, Kirs.” You bounced them slightly. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t fantasised about burying your face right here.”

Silence.

“I thought so,” you cooed sweetly, and reached forward to pinch his chin between your fingers. “Now stop yelling and start thinking with your real brain.”

“I—” he squeaked, “—I need to sit down.”

You smirked and let go of his chin.

“And I don’t need to be lectured like a cadet by my flustered lieutenant boyfriend,” you whispered as you leaned over, letting your tits fall on his face and smoother him with the innocent intentions to calm him down.

⋆˚✿˖° Jugram Haschwalth

You stood in your shared quarters, one boot still unlaced because he’d started his bloody lecture the moment you stepped inside, ready to undress.

“You’re reckless,” he snapped, brows drawn, and his tone too smooth for how pissed he clearly was. “Charging ahead when you knew they outnumbered you. You’re not invincible. Just because I’ve pulled you out of enough traps doesn’t mean I’ll always get there in time.”

Tired of hearing the same polished concern disguised as scolding, you rolled your eyes. “Jugram—”

“No. Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to make you understand. It isn’t just about you. What if someone else had to take a hit for you? What if someone—”

Sighing as you two went down the same road countless times, again and again like a merry-go-round, you began undressing as you originally intended, ignoring his words. Removing each your coat, followed by your jacket and shirt, you didn’t even bother to unbutton your shirt ceremoniously, just popping it open, buttoned scattering on the carpet and flashing your tits out for him.

A thousands times he’d seen them, and still, a thousand times all over again, he was frozen in place as they sat there all ripe and tempting for his eyes.

“…What the hell are you doing,” he muttered after a moment, and now trembling slightly with something entirely different from anger. As dedicated and stern of a man he was, everyone man had his weakness.

“I got tired of hearing you go on and on like I’m a child,” you murmured dryly, your tits still out and nipples hardening under the cool air. “Figured this would shut you up faster.”

It only made his eyes trailed downwards, hungrily and angrily, betrayed by his own natural instincts. Darting his tongue out to wet his lips, his jaw tightening as he tried to stop himself from reacting, and was failing miserably.

“You can’t simply flash me in the middle of an argument,” he growled, but his eyes were locked onto the soft bounce of your breasts, the way your nipples had hardened slightly under the cool air.

“You didn’t stop,” you grinned with a lazy shrug, sauntering towards him with a seductive strut. “You only seem to respond when I stop speaking and do something.”

“Put them away.” His gaze flickered back up to yours, dark now.

“Make me.”

The mere audacity of you to challenge him led to him stepping forward so fast, you barely had time to brace before your back hit the nearest wall. One of his hands slammed beside your head, the other cupped your bare breast, while his rough thumb brushed your nipple. “You think this is a game?” he hissed.

“You were too busy scolding me like a subordinate instead of fucking me like a lover,” you shot back and tilted you chin in defiance. “You’re so predictable. Lecturing until your cock’s hard and you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Exhaling sharply and biting back a curse as his hand slid down to your waist, his grip tightened. “I should leave you standing here like this. Let you stew in the mess you made.”

“But you won’t. You never do,” you purred as you leaned forward and allowed your lips to brush the base of his throat.

Within seconds, he dragged you off the wall and tossed you onto the couch, removing his coat and jacket, ready to teach you a lesson.

⋆˚✿˖° Ishida Uryu

“You omitted the part where you directly contradicted a senior officer’s orders. That’s deliberate, reckless, and—”

You sat across from him, slumped in the chair, and bored out of your mind, idly picking at your nail. “I did what worked. End of story.”

“It’s not the end of the story. You’re jeopardising our trust with the higher-ups! This is exactly the kind of thing that makes collaboration impossible—your refusal to listen, to—are you even listening to me?”

“No,” you said plainly, then stood up, walked over, and unbuttoned your top in three brisk flicks. Pulling your shirt open and letting your breasts spill out in front of his shocked, rapidly flushing face, giving them a subtle jiggle and pushing them further into his face. “There. I’m listening now. Are you?”

He could feel his jaw tensing the close you got to his face. By now, his hands were gripping the edge of the table as he stared—no, gawked. His glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose, mouth opening again but no sound came out—he looked helplessly at your tits, then your face, then your tits again.

“Wh—what the hell,” he croaked, adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers. “You can’t just—this isn’t—!”

You stepped closer, letting your exposed chest brush against his arm. “Still talking and lecturing. I bet if I put your hand right here—” you grabbed one of his and placed it firmly over your breast, watching the way his fingers twitched, “—you’d stop.”

Well, it was then he looked like he might short-circuit.

“This is sexual harassment, you know.”

Scoffing at his attempt at fighting back, you gave his hand on your breasts a squeeze to hold you firmly. “I’m your girlfriend.”

“You flashed me in the middle of an argument!”

“And you’re hard now.”

His eyes widened as if he’d just realised. “I am not—”

Reaching down to palm his erection through his slacks to prove him wrong and foolish to counter when you had already won, his breath caught in his throat.

“…”

“Exactly,” you murmured, tugging him up by his collar and kissing him before he could blurt out another complaint. There was resistance for all of five seconds before melting into the kiss and returning the favour with the kind of frustration only pent-up tension and an aggressively smart-mouthed lover could cause.

Pushing you onto the desk and sweeping aside the mission report with a sharp movement of his arm, your blouse hung open, breasts still bare and bouncing as you laughed at how quickly his righteous indignation collapsed under the weight of your tits and some clever timing. “Now that I have your attention,” you whispered against his ear, tugging his belt loose with one hand, “you gonna keep ranting, or are you gonna shut up and fuck me like you’re supposed to?”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @spellboundsuguru @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe @darthwhorecrux @dazaisk0rspe @jxstsh

However, if Yhwach ordered Jugram to do it, he must do it. And you, his assistant, tried your best to find accommodation… took whatever it took. 

You keep quiet as his crystalline eyes fix on the screen of one of his six phones. What an amazing beauty this man holds, with manly features but still delicate to be mistaken by an angel… still, he might be the loneliest of them all, by choice perhaps, pushing everybody away… 

“Did you pay wifi on board, right? I’ll need it” he utters, as cold as always. As serious as ever. 

You nod, searching for a little card with a special code they gave you when you were checking in. 

“Here, Jugram-sama” you give it to him, grazing your fingers. He is not really looking at you, he just seems especially glued to the screen. 

It doesn’t take much for the plane’s doors to be finally closed and for a flight attendant to reach your spot. A young beautiful woman, dressed in the airline’s sexy uniform, stops right by your side noticing Jugram still on his phone. 

“Ah, Sir. Excuse me, we are about to take off, you should put your phone down until we reach cruise alt-“ she says, shutting up the moment the blonde looks at her in a very “not amused” grim. 

 The immediate change of that woman when seeing his handsome face isn’t something new for you, in fact, the flight attendant didn’t even notice you were also on your phone. She immediately recognize him, acting all silly and flirtatious towards him. 

“Sorry. Will shut it off in a moment” Jugram says, blocking his phone and sliding it inside the chest pocket of his white suit. 

You do the same, sighing. It’s ok, the flight attendant won’t notice, nor will Jugram. He doesn’t care about you; you are just a mere software that breathes and speaks to help him… or so you think. 

“Fasten it. Tight” he suddenly says, bending just a little to reach for your seatbelt and adjust it closer to your lower stomach. And you gasp, when did he ever cared about your safety? 

You nod, again. Out of words, even more than always. You can’t say much, you just fix your eyes into the little screen in front of you. Hot ears, hot cheeks… a simple touch of this man, and you are sent to heaven. 

And, speaking of heaven, soon and with your ears popping the plane leaves the ground to be finally airborne. In complete silence, the only sounds you are blessed with are the roaring of the engines and the little creeks of the plastic insides of the plane. 

Time flies, they say, when you are comfortable… however, this wasn’t exactly the definition of comfort. You tried to squeeze yourself in that tiny seat, as much as possible. Your left elbow carved into the plane’s fuselage wall, and your right arm crossed over your chest. You don’t wanna take Jugram much space, and as much as you wish, you don’t even dare claiming the middle armrest for your own. 

“You look uncomfortable, (Name)” he mutters, this time with his eyes scanning a haggard magazine. You have no idea how he does it, but he sees you without looking. 

“Not to sound very cocky, but economy nowadays is a torture… we haven’t even left Germany, and my legs are already dead, I wonder if I’ll be able to walk when we get to Japan” you whisper, as the lights of the cabin have already been turned off and some snoring from other passengers filter in between the sound of the engines. 

“Try to rest, we will need energy” he simply says, closing the magazine and turning his head to the side. His eyes closed, but his facial muscles still tensed.

When will you rest, Jugram Haschwalth? 

Seven hours in, and that water bottle you chugged in while bored, has started to affect you. But how to leave your seat to go to the bathroom, if that would mean crawling on top of Jugram who has finally -incredible to you- fallen asleep? 

Yet, your bladder has a limit and after several minutes trying to forget about your necessities, urgence takes over… 

Taking a deep breath before starting to move, you stand up. You hit your head with the overhead compartment and swear in silence. Then, facing Jugram, your left leg goes first, passing over his long legs. And just like this, with your hands on each side of his face, on the headrest, your hips seem like straddled on his, even though your crotches aren’t touching. 

A soft rocking motion, known as turbulence, seems to complot against you as it becomes a little more noticeable. It obviously affects your balance, but you are not willing to wake this man up, much less with you in such position. 

However, Jugram seems to never really rest, and suddenly a pair of hands land on your waist. 

“Careful” he whispers, opening two shining stars per eyes. His hands are strong, his hold making you feel secure. 

“I’m sorry, I had to go to the toile-“

“You should have asked me to move…” he answers back, helping you to reach the aisle. 

You nod, out of words, and quickly run -as best as you can- to the toilet. You can’t normalize your breathing for at least a couple of minutes after you finally relieve yourself and in the mirror in front of you, you try your best to fix your image… 

Yet, seems destiny has decided to play with you, once again…

The up and down motions increase, turbulence becoming more and more noticeable, and a flight attendant asking you to hurry and go back to your seat once you’ve managed to leave the restroom.  

You grunt; why in the world there isn’t something able to deal with turbulence yet? Grabbing anything, really, while you walk to your very uncomfortable seat, you pray for Jugram not to be asleep.

“Uh, Jugram-sama, I’m ba-!” you try to ask for him to move so you can squeeze back into your seat. But, of course, to make it a lot more shamefully to you, turbulence makes you jump. 

The blonde once again snatches you, this time saving you big time not to hurt yourself badly. You get locked in his arms, on top of his lap. Your face close to his, noses almost touching, eyes fixed on each other’s. 

“You ok? Did you hurt yourself? Is your head ok?” he asks, touching the back of your head, grabbing you real close to his body, seriously worried. 

You nod, finally breathing back. 

“I’m ok… thank you for saving me, Jugram-sama” you whisper, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. You are sure you shouldn’t have done such thing, but you couldn’t help it… it is hella scary to feel like gravity has abandoned you. 

“Don’t… worry” he whispers back, allowing you to rest as much as you wish on him. His hand on your head makes it clear, “stay here if you wish”

The scent of his skin, and the sweet perfume he wears, makes you dizzy… what a delicious combination. The warmth of his flesh on your lips, invites you to kiss him… how much you wish you could do it, but just the way the plane moves will have to do, an indirect kiss that can’t be call as it. 

And, the more the plane moves, the more you softly jump on his lap. And Jugram seems to tense, more and more… is it that maybe the constant graze of your legs on his crotch, the warm breath of your mouth, or your nose buried on his skin it is making it really difficult for him? 

You notice his muscles becoming stiff, and thankful for the darkness surrounding the fuselage, you take a little bit of advantage of the situation… I’m sorry, Jugram-sama, this is a dream came true. 

However, common sense comes back to you; “Sorry, Jugram-sama! I’m gonna go back to my seat. I’m sorry...” you try to stand up, but you can’t. 

“Stay…” he grunts in your ear, pressing your body, harder, against him. This time you can feel a man’s reaction to a beautiful woman jumping on him… 

You look at him; this time your eyes are imbued with lust. You only just needed a plead, a single word… you are just a human, you have been pushed to the limit… You have always wanted him… and apparently, he has always wanted you. 

Perhaps a couple of seconds passed, but to you it felt like an eternity. His hand landed on your cheek, with its fingers reaching the back of your head. 

In silence, trying to recognize each other’s traits with the soft led lights of the bathroom sign on the back of the plane, you spend some more minutes until he devours you in one kiss. 

It is more than magical and also painfully needy; you have no idea if he had been wanting to kiss you since forever, or this is just something out of the blue. And who cares? Kiss me more, Jugram-sama. 

Indecently, the kiss become more and more deep, in a full plane, surrounded by strangers… and his hardness keeps growing, as if was searching for your core to go desperately deep inside. 

“Toilet, go. Wait for me” he commands in between tongues playing. 

You widen your eyes; he wants to fuck you in that tiny bathroom?

“Please…” he adds, again pleading, begging. 

You nod, this time biting your lower lip. He helps you; the turbulence continues but has decreased in intensity. You walk to the bathroom in the back, praying for nobody, including the crew, to see you. 

Your clearly agitated -and horny- imagery reflects on the mirror of the tiny toilet. You wonder how is Jugram going to manage to get inside without being noticed. 

Trust Jugram Haschwalth, he is not only wise, he is rich and the second hand of one of the largest companies in the world… 

“Miss, if I give you my number, would you close the bathroom for me and my assistant? She is not feeling well and I will try to help her. Please, contact me soon, we are soon purchasing a private jet, and we will need a flight attendant like you to join us” 

“Oh! Of course, Jugram-sama! Thank you!! And please, don’t worry, take all the time you need!” 

A sudden knock on the door announces he is here, not even a minute has passed. You open, sticking yourself against the back of the toilet. Amazed you noticed nobody but him around, where are the flight attendants? 

There is no time to think, as he gets inside and closes the door right behind him. Pleased with the loud noises of that Boeing 777, he turns you around. Your belly hits the mini counter, Jugram’s hands lowering your bamboula pants. 

“I don’t know why you chose to wear these today, but I’m so glad you did” he grunts in your ear, as it was hella easy to lower them down and expose your ass. 

You were about to reply it was because of comfort, but it’d be pointless to add anything at all. He lifts your right leg on top of the counter, for better access, feeling your wetness with his free hand. 

His chest hits your back, his chin carved on your shoulder, both looking at each other through the mirror. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time… I’m sorry it has to be on a plane’s toilet” he says, smirking. 

For a long time, Jugram-sama? Amazed, amused, impressed… the very first time he is showing you a smile and it’s when he has his fingers inside your folds… 

“I- I don’t- I don’t care…”  you simply answer, because you can’t even think straight; by now, Jugram has started fingering you like nobody else did before. 

Your inner thighs tremble, your skin becomes bumpy. Your hand tries to reach for Jugram’s hips, you want him closer -inside-. And he understands his job, immediately. 

“You want me to fuck you, mh?” Jugram asks, pinching your cheeks and making you look yourself in front of the mirror. 

“yes… please…” you plead, lifting your hips, grabbing yourself from the little counter in front of you. It isn’t easy not to lose balance on such a tiny place, on a plane with occasional turbulence. 

Jugram, however, seems not to notice the motion of the plane and keeps both feet steadily on the ground. He lowers his zipper, freeing his sex from his white pants. Ready, so ready to impale you, he doesn’t even take a single moment to do it. 

His strong hand lands on your mouth the moment he finally gets deep inside you; a Boeing might be loud, but your moan could have been heard by others.

The slaps against your ass and thighs force you to put your hands on the mirror in front, where both never stopped looking at each other. It is both magical and perverted the way  you enjoy this moment through the reflection. 

One, two, three. More and more. But is not enough, is not deep enough… “Come here…” he commands, turning you around. 

You pant, legs trembling, wanting more and more. 

Jugram sits on the toilet and spreads his arms to receive you. And you immediately understand; time to bounce on his hard sex. 

You let yourself fall on his lap; the need allows his dick to slide right in with no difficulty whatsoever. Facing your blonde lover snatches your lips in a feverish kiss, his hands press the small of your back against him, and his legs begin to bounce along with you… ah, deep Jugram-sama; deep, fast… faster… 

And now turbulence is making it even better, don’t you think?!

It’s autumn and you’re standing on the tips of your toes to watch the new pages practice with wooden swords.

They look small, like you, with childlike wonder as they hold their makeshift swords. Their eyes are filled with wonder and excitement. Except for one.

One of the shortest of the bunch, a boy with brilliant blonde hair, looks at his sword with concern and hesitation. He gives it a weak swing; you swear he looks like he’s trembling. Another boy, with dark red hair, yells at him, scaring the blonde boy, forcing his head up. You press your face against the window for a better look.

“He’s so pretty.” You said out loud, when one of your maids tugs your hand away from the scene.

“Mistress! Remove your face from the window this instance!” Your caretaker rushes to you, pulling you away from the view below. “You must attend your piano lessons. Don’t mind those boys.” Your caretaker scolds you, holding your hand firmly as you’re led away from the window. As you move away, you see the little blonde boy look up and you give him a wave as you’re pulled away.

It's autumn and you rather be playing outside in the fallen leaves with the blonde boy who doesn’t want to hold his sword.

Your piano teacher waits for you in the music room, where your black, grand piano awaits. It’s massive compared to your piano teacher, it’s even bigger compared to you. The piano is near another window, one that is open. The light breeze fills the room with a faint scent of fallen leaves and the grunts and yelps of the pages practicing outside. Your piano teacher, a lean, young man with blonde hair but not as pretty as the blonde boy outside you thought, approaches you. He gave you a grin, “little lady, you’ve kept me waitin’!” His voice has a bit of an accent, you were told he came from lands “far, far away.”

Your caretaker taps your shoulder, reminding you of your manners, “I’m sorry Mr. Hirako. Please excuse my tardiness.” You recite, your tone monotonous. Words repeated and echoed through your etiquette training.

Mr. Hirako lets out a snicker, “don’t worry about it, miss. Let’s get you warmed up with some scales.”

You watch your caretaker leave the room once Mr. Hirako ushers you to your seat. The notes glide off your fingertips, as Mr. Hirako watches you with intensity. Scale after scale, note after note, your music fills the room, echoing nearby.

The pages, who were done for the day, walk away from their practice session. But the little blonde boy hears the distant sound of piano playing and walks closer. He watches you, the little girl from the window. He stares at you in awe and envy, as he listens to your music playing. “Jugo! Whatcha doin’?! We gotta hurry back, Sister Retsu will get angry at us if we’re late!” The red-haired boy from earlier yells, slapping “Jugo’s” back. He pulls at the blonde boy’s sleeves, dragging him away from the window, while the blonde boy just stares until you’re out of his view.

It’s winter and beautiful. Fresh snow covers your manor in a haunting shade of white. It leaves your manor in absolute silence. There is no one around, and so you open the window in your piano room. There’s a slight chill in the air, but you love it nonetheless. The atmosphere helps you with your concentration.

Your recital approaches and you stare at your music sheets. You read over Mr. Hirako’s instructions and tips to steel yourself for your first recital. Little slips of paper stick out of your music books, while notes and coloured markings fill sections on what you need to practice, reminders to yourself of mistakes you have made.

You warm up with selections from Hanon’s Virtuoso Pianist. Scales, arpeggios and everything in between fly from your fingers. It feels effortless, your mind is focused and clear. You begin the first piece of your recital’s repertoire, Bach’s Fugue No. 16 from the second book of his Well-Tempered Clavier. The notes start heavy, with your fingers increasing in speed as bars fly from your vision.

Snap.

You stop playing, the loud snap shaking you out of your concentration. An animal wouldn’t have made such loud noises, it sounded like footsteps, you thought. You peer down the window and see the blonde boy of your youth, now a squire. His blonde hair is past his ears now, and he dons a black, long-sleeved tunic with your uncle’s family crest above his chest with white pants. He looks startled to see you, as you are of him.

You give him a polite smile and wave to him, but he doesn’t respond. It wasn’t just his hair that grew, you realized. The pages who trained endlessly, day after day, in sunshine, rain or snow, have now became squires. The changing of seasons and time reflected their physical growth as well. The blonde boy was now a teen, and he was tall, taller than you are now.

“Wait!” You yell at him, as he begins to walk away. You run through your manor, pushing past servants until you see him outside.

It’s winter and terribly cold, but you don’t care. The blonde teen looks startled to see you, and you were right, he was taller than you.

“Mistress, you shouldn’t be out here.” His voice is shaky as he tries step away from you.

“I’m fine!” You shout. He smiles weakly at you.

“How can I be of service to you, Mistress?” The teen asks, bowing his head at you.

You click your tongue disapprovingly, “we’re the same age, right?” You say, introducing yourself and extending your hand. The teen avoids your gaze and open palm as he whispers your name.

He ignores your question, “I’m Jugram Haschwalth, Lord Yhwach’s squire.” He says, finally looking at you. Hesitation and anxiousness fill his voice.

His eyes are a brilliant shade of green, reminding you of the meadows in springtime. You repeated his name over and over again, “I’ll definitely be able to remember that! And besides, I knew you were one of my uncle’s squires.” You laughed, “I just didn’t know your name.”

“Oh, right…” Jugram said softly.

The winter chill is creeping up through your clothes, as the two of you stand awkwardly.

“You’ll do anything I say, Jugram?” You ask, as you stare at him, you notice his posture, the way he slouches, and how he holds his arm behind his back.

He looks at you briefly, then looks away, “yes.”

“Then come listen to me practice!” You exclaim, “I need an audience anyways. I have my first recital coming.” You beamed at him, trying to get Jugram to relax a little.

He looks at you and then back to his feet, “I can’t –” and he immediately regrets his words, as disappoint washes over your face, “I mean, I can stay for one song.” He offers.

You give him a grin and bring him inside.

Music fills the room as Jugram watches you play. His back is straight as an arrow, but not out of confidence, but out of nerves. I don’t belong here, he thinks to himself.

But your music snaps him out of his thoughts as you continue to play your pieces. Before he even realizes, he’s smiling as he watches you play. You beamed at him from your seat, as you continued to play. You look back to your music sheets and close your eyes, your fingers having memorized every note and crescendo.

You come to a stop. Without looking up, you ask “Will you come to my recital, Jugram?” But he was gone. The room empty once again.

It’s spring, and you’re struggling to breathe. Your caretaker watches you as the seamstress tightens your corset. Your débutante ball is tonight and all your etiquette training, tutoring and classes prepared you for this night. You were to be presented as a young woman of upper society.

You looked at yourself in the mirror: rosy lips, lashes long and thick, hair styled tastefully, with an exceptionally beautiful silk ball gown. An elegant necklace drapes over your décolletage, with matching earrings already in place. You were to be a vision to guests and suitors alike.

It’s spring and you were dreading nightfall. Upper society was so stiff with its rules and mannerisms. Your one solace was your piano. As the seamstress continues her tightening, you stare at your hands, covered in matching silk gloves as your dress. Long and thin, evidence of the years of piano playing etched on every single finger. You chuckled to yourself as the memories of Mr. Hirako’s tutelage floods your mind.

You rather prepare for another recital than for a ball. Sighing, you turned your head and looked out the window, the setting sun in the distance. It fills your room and the nearby meadows with a golden glow.

You wonder if Jugram will be there tonight. It had been a few years since that day in the music room. He never came to your recital, but he was always around the manor, practicing, training, preparing with the other squires.

Well, you gave a quiet laugh, he wasn’t a squire anymore. The once shy boy and nervous teen was now a calm, talented and confident knight. A faint blush spreads your face at the thought of him. He would politely engage with you if you were nearby, asking you about your music, how you were, and what was occupying your time, but he would never acknowledge your first recital, or any recitals you invited to him after that. On the rare occasion he would sit and listen to you to play, maybe that’s a recital in it of itself, you mused. He would applaud you once you were finished but spoke only a few words about your music and talent.

You two would be in the same room, but sometimes it felt like you were distances apart. A wall between him and you that your only your music would lower.

You weren’t sure if he was a friend or not. You would watch him from afar, how he commanded his small troop with a cool confidence. His once bruise-covered, shaking arms, held his sword and shield with grace and poise, while he was distant and cold with his men, there was a soft, respectful and caring tone with you.

The seamstress stepped away from you, finished with your dress and admiring her work, “she’s ready.”

Your caretaker eyes are filled with love and awe, “you look magnificent, Mistress! You’ll be the talk of the ball tonight.” You gave her a wry smile, “thank you.”

It’s spring and you were wistful, looking out your carriage. Your manor grows smaller in the distance as the night grows darker.

The carriage comes to a halt in front of the castle. The castle was large and imposing, made of bright white stone. Women and men dressed in exquisite silk, satin and velvet, as they mingled, chatted and drank through the halls.

You were immediately escorted to another room, with other ladies who were preparing for their debut as well. You recognized some of them – classmates and acquaintances from your lessons. You politely nodded your head at them, but kept your distance, rather looking out the window instead.

“Ugh, he’s so boring.” You heard one woman say, loudly. Her brown, almost black hair was styled in a French twist with a thin tiara on top of her head. Her dress was red, it almost reminded you of blood.

“Bambietta, he’s your fiancé!” Another woman with blonde hair in loose curls and a seafoam-coloured gown, whispered harshly. You pretended not to pay attention to them but watched them through the faint reflection of the window.

Bambietta Basterbine, you recalled. The daughter of a weapons manufacturer who was close to your uncle. You had only met her a handful of times but found her quite rude with how she treated servants and those of lower rank.

“No, it’s insulting!” Bambietta scoffed, “if he weren’t one of Lord Yhwach’s most trusted knights, he wouldn’t even be here. He is a peasant in knight’s armour.” She sneered. Your ears twitched, one of your uncle’s knights?

“But at least he’s handsome… Lord Yhwach has some pretty ugly soldiers in his army.” Her blonde friend quipped, trying to diffuse the situation.

You could see Bambietta roll her eyes, “and he’s probably terrible in bed. His friend, you know the one with the black hair. Hubert?” Bambietta grinned, licking her lips, “he was fun. And besides, I’ll have my pick of the litter if he doesn’t satisfy me.” Bambietta said with a dismissive tone.

Your eyes widened from hearing their conversation, but you kept your cool. This was between her and her fiancé. Although... Hubert… you knew vaguely of him within your uncle’s army… he was Jugram’s second-in-command.

You felt your body churn out of anxiety, but your heart felt like it was crumbling.

An older madame entered the room and ushered all the ladies together, including you. You were each to be escorted by a knight as you descended the royal steps. Your stomach was in knots with anxiety creeping up your body.

Bambietta was to be in front of you and you could tell she was in a foul mood with the way she was pouting and glaring at you and everyone in the room.

And soon, the knights entered. You recognized Jugram immediately, one of the taller knights. You thought you saw his eyes widen as he saw you, but his gaze diverted to Bambietta. He was decorated in a fine white uniform, reminding you of snow, with a turquoise fur trim running along his jacket and gold fixtures. His sword fastened at his hip, and long blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. “Bambietta” Jugram said, a bit coldly you thought. He held his hand to Bambietta, who scoffed and begrudgingly held it.

You were one of the few without a fiancé and were to be assigned a knight to escort you tonight. Hubert, the man in your uncle’s army, the second-in-command to Jugram, and Bambietta’s bed partner, gave you a small smile and bowed, taking your hand, “it’ll be my honor to escort you tonight, milady.”

You gave a sad smile and extended your hand. He kissed the back of your hand, and you wanted to wince. But you recalled your etiquette training and remained polite.

The train of knights and ladies descended the steps as orchestral music filled the hall. You looked ahead of you, to Jugram’s back, as he confidently escorted Bambietta down the steps.

“Announcing Lady Bambietta of the Basterbine family, escorted by her fiancé, Grandmaster Jugram Haschwalth.”

Then it was you and Hubert, stepping down to the marble floor. Once all the pairs were called upon, the first dance commenced. You smiled politely as Hubert held you. His grip was too tight on your hip and arm, as you winced while you danced. Eventually the song came to an end, and you parted ways.

The elites of the upper society began to swarm you, prodding you on to take Hubert as a fiancé, how your uncle would support you on the endeavour, but you politely declined. Stepping away from the crowd, you found a balcony to decompress, and people watch.

Some couples were dancing still, including Jugram and Bambietta. Their movements were fluid and graceful. You could hear in the distance guests gossiping about them, how beautiful their family would be.

Once the song ended you followed Jugram to another balcony outside. He was shocked to see you, eyes wide as you tried to gather courage for what you were about to say.

“Bambietta isn’t good for you!” You yelled, as sadness enveloped you, “she’s been sleeping with Hubert, and has no issues with seeing other men besides you.”

The look Jugram gave you scared you. Cold, lifeless green eyes staring into your soul. “It’s my duty to Lord Yhwach to marry who he sees fit.” He stared at you, his voice devoid of its usual warmth for you, “it doesn’t matter to me, as long as she’s happy.” He pushed you aside, walking back to the hall, leaving you alone on the balcony.

It was spring and you wanted to cry.

It’s summer and you’re visiting your uncle’s manor. Nothing has changed from what you can see. The gardens are beautiful as ever, with your favourite flowers in full bloom. You’re greeted by familiar servants and staff, welcoming you back into your home as they take your belongings to your room.

You walked through the halls towards your music room. Passing by the window, you see a familiar scene of young pages training to become knights, of wooden swords and childish laughter. How nostalgic you thought.

Lord Yhwach is away but promised to visit in the coming days. Your uncle wanted you to enjoy your stay in his home for the time being, taking a break from “the disgusting air of the city” as he described it. He didn’t like you living in the city, but you preferred it, playing recitals and teaching students music.

He also didn’t like that you remained unmarried. Neither did the rest of your family and your caretaker. Suitors would visit you from afar, and past visits back home would have a man waiting for your return, but you would dismiss each one.

Now you were reaching the “ineligible” age. An age where the annoying, nosy and rude ladies of upper society turned their noses at unmarried women. Sighing, you entered your music room. A song would distract you from those thoughts.

Your piano room was clean, albeit a bit stuffy. You opened the large windows by them to air out the room. The faint sound of children laughing can be heard, followed by the buzzing of cicadas, bringing a smile to your lips.

It’s summer and you deserve to enjoy yourself at your own pace.

You lift the cover of your piano to find clean and polished keys. You run your fingers gently across them, no sound being made. You settle yourself and decide on what piece to play. Your mind flashes to one of your first concerts in the city, where you received a standing ovation, and a large bouquet of your favourite flowers awaited your waiting room. There was no name attached to the bouquet, other than the note of “Congratulations.” Signed with your uncle’s crest. To this day you figured it was him. Recital after recital, you would find beautiful bouquets awaiting you with a note from your uncle.

Your fingers glided over the keys as you played the first piece from your first ever recital. The one where you had dragged Jugram to listen to that one winter’s day. You smiled to yourself as you closed your eyes, letting your fingers play the song from memory. You mind wandered as you continued to play, thinking of Jugram.

In the coming days after the ball, to save face, you had congratulated him on his engagement. You were a witness to his coronation as Imperial Advisor to your uncle. You had attended his wedding to Bambietta. And then you ran to the city.

Your hands were moving on their own as you recalled all of it, as tears started to prick your eyes. As the piece was nearing its end, you felt your hands grow heavy and you stopped.

“That was an old piece you played.” Jugram’s voice startled you.

“Jugram! I didn’t notice you were here.” You exclaimed, jumping out of your seat. You bowed to him as he did to you. “Did you just come in?” You asked, wondering when he entered the room.

“The servants told me you had arrived. I knew I would find you here.” He said, his voice even and calm. His uniform was stark white, he looked even taller than before.

But his green eyes were soft today, unlike the time at the ball. This was the Jugram you wanted to remember.

“Please excuse my intrusion,” a maid servant announced, as she brought tea and snacks for you.

“Oh thank you, but could you bring these outside? I’d like to enjoy them with Advisor Haschwalth.” You smiled, as the three of you were led outside.

The two of you sat in the gazebo in silence, as the wind tickled your hair. The sun was slowly beginning its descent into the horizon.

“How have you been, Jugram? How is Bambietta?”

Jugram sipped on his water, as his eyes lingered to the flowers nearby. “She’s fine.” He murmured.

“And you?” You asked again.

“Fine.” He said, always a man with few words. The air was warm, but comforting, but you noticed him unbutton his jacket.

“I’m always surprised to see you wearing your uniform during this heat.” You laughed, to which Jugram gave a slight smile.

“The fabric is suitable for all seasons, but it’s quite warm today.” He mused, taking another sip of water.

Silence grew again, as the two of you stared out in the distance.

“I –”

“You –”

The two of you spoke at the same time. Jugram ushered you to go first.

“I’m sorry about the ball. I know it’s been so many years, but I’m sorry for how I acted. It wasn’t my place.” You apologized, looking at him. Jugram’s face was expressionless.

“Bambietta and I are separating for now.” He murmured, still staring at the garden. Was he… disappointed? Relieved? You couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jugram. That must have been difficult for you both to agree on.” You sighed.

Jugram gave you a sad smile. “She was upset with the bouquets I was having delivered.”

Your eyes widened in surprised, “isn’t that a bit hypocritical of her? But I’m surprised, you had someone else?”

Jugram gave a dry chuckle, “no, I never bedded them, but I suppose it was unfair to her that I would gift flowers to someone and visit the city every now and then.” Your heart panged again, sadness washing over you that Jugram’s affections laid with someone else... again.

“Are you going to be with this person once your separation is finalized?” You asked, unsure if you could handle his answer.

“I want to.” He said calmly, his face again, remained expressionless, “but that depends on her.” He mused, his lips forming to a wistful smile.

“Do you regret what happened?” You asked softly, trying to remain composed for whatever Jugram may say.

“I have no regrets.” He murmured, “I made my own choice to marry her, and it’s now my choice to separate from her and be with someone else.”

“But what about my uncle?” You asked, worried that Jugram may have been on the receiving end of your uncle’s ruthlessness.

“He signed off on it. I suppose whatever deal he had with the Basterbine family was fulfilled.” Jugram said, wistfully.

The silence between you two grew again as the sun began to set.

“Did you like the bouquets?” He asked, staring at you.

“The bouquets?” You asked in confusion. “Wait, that… that was from you?”

Jugram nodded. “I attended some of your recitals.” He said calmly, finishing his glass of water. “You are truly a gift from God.” He quietly said.

“I thought they were from Lord Yhwach all this time…” You said, your voice wavering. Your heart was beating so loudly. You began to feel felt faint.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there? I—” You asked, trying to calm yourself.

Jugram remained silent, as he continued to stare into the gardens.

“If I didn’t see you play at least once in my life,” Jugram said, “I would die with that regret.” He whispered, looking at the distance with a longing in eyes. “And then one recital, became multiple.”

Jugram got up from his seat and stood in front of you, extending his hand. You gave him yours, to which he bowed and kissed the back of your hand. “Please allow me to escort you to dinner tonight, your highness.” Jugram asked.

The days are long, and the nights are warm. Your body aches and your pussy is sore, sticky remnants covering your thigh. You had consummated your marriage to Jugram.

Your nipples are sensitive from Jugram’s teeth marks. Your lips are puffy and swollen from the kisses he stole from you.

Although everything hurt, you ached for more of him.

His cheeks were slightly flushed for the evening’s earlier activities, but now he laid asleep next you, his broad chest moving to every hitch of breath he was taking. His face was relaxed, his lips weren’t frowning, his eyebrows weren’t crossed. He looked at peace. You gently placed your hand over his heart, your long fingers gently tapping to the song from your youth.

Yet like everything Jugram does, he surprises you as his hand interlocks with yours.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Jugo.” You whispered, kissing him softly on the lips. “I couldn’t help myself.” You murmured, kissing him again, “you just looked so content.”

Jugram cupped your face in his hand as the two of you laid side-by-side. “You must be sore from tonight.” He said, kissing your forehead.

You felt heat rise below and peered down below the blanket. Jugram’s cock was growing stiff. You bit your lip in anticipation, reaching your hand down below, but Jugram stopped you.

“Rest, my highness.” Jugram murmured, “I can wait.”

You pouted at him, “can I watch at least?” You politely asked, giving him an innocent look. Jugram looked at you, eyes wide at the question. Your hand reached down and gently grabbed his growing erection, sliding your hand up and down.

Jugram grunted at the feeling, and pulled your arm away from his cock, replacing it with his own. “What her majesty wants, her majesty will get.” He whispered into your ear, as you watched Jugram slide his hand over his stiff cock. Precum leaked from the tip as Jugram watched you. He pinched your nipple and stole another kiss from you.

You moaned into him, throwing your arms around his neck, but he pulled away, continuing to pump his cock.

Watching him left a familiar ache of your own, as your hand darted to your pussy, rubbing your clit gently watching Jugram masturbate on top of you. You slipped one of your fingers inside, whimpering as you thought of Jugram’s cock inside you instead.

Jugram’s movements grew more erratic, and his breath more laboured as he watched you play with yourself, moaning his name. He watched you insert a second finger inside you, arching your back at the feeling, another moan of his name escaping his lips.

It was too much for him, as Jugram closed his eyes and groaned your name, his cum thick on your stomach. You slipped your fingers out from your pussy, using them to scoop his cooling cum of your body and tasting it. “Delicious.” You teased, licking your fingers clean.

Jugram panted, but gave you a wry smile, “you will be the death of me, your majesty.”

THANKS FOR READING!! This was originally planned to be super angst heavy, but my brain went another way haha! Here are some notes for this fic:

The title of the song on AO3 is from Duran Duran's "The Chauffeur" (one of my top favourite songs of all time), but I was specifically listening to Sneaker Pimps' cover of it.

Hanon's Virtuoso Pianist, is actually a great tool to build your finger strength and helps with scales and technical studies for piano playing.

The Bach piece that reader plays with Jugram in the room is Bach's Fugue No. 16 in G Minor from Book 2 of The Well-Tempered Clavier.

For the reason I chose Bambietta is based off this goofy omake between her and Jugram lmao

Eyes widening even so slightly, you flicked your gaze up at the intruders of the hour and your blood instantly ran cold. Giggles and light footsteps echoed in the room as the two wicked Sternritters walked in, closing the door behind them hastily to taunt you out of prying eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

“Ah, there you are! I’m so glad you are still alive…” Candice piped out, her leaf green eyes locking with yours as she folded her arms against her chest to stare you down in disdain.

“Isn’t she pretty, Candice? I mean, I could make her even prettier, if I turned her into a zombie! What do you say? Should I do it? Ah, she looks delicious!” the shorter one, Giselle, chimed in as she strolled towards you with a malicious glint in her doe eyes. Maybe, Giselle was the worst of them all. Those blue orbs of hers had been transfixed on you since the first day you had stepped into that pit of vipers. Her intent was clear.

More than once, even when you were minding your business, the Sternritter Z had tried to approach you and whisper in your ear all the wicked things she wished she could do to you.

Chills ran down your spine, as you gritted your teeth and glared at them “Get out of my room. You don’t seem that smart, otherwise you would think twice before laying a finger on me. If you hurt me, you would probably end up dead too” you stated, clenching your fists down your sides, as you tried to stand your ground.

They laughed at your face, their grins making it painly clear that you were nothing more than a joker to mock and abuse for their entertainment.

“Oh, would you look at that, Giselle? The tramp is finally showing her teeth! Maybe I should just electrocute her” Candice blurted out, her spiritual pressure increasing as she showed you her fist and the familiar sparks of green and blue electricity engulfing it.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of what would have probably determined your death and your heartbeat increased notably. You were hopeless this time. Your lower lip wobbled, your arms raising up in a defensive stance, as you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the pain to strike you.

For the first time ever, you wished he was there to save you. You never appreciated his assistance, his cold and detached help, but this time your life was in danger. His deep voice, his scent and the sound of his cape fluttering around his slender figure were things you were grown almost fond of. He was the worst of the worst, the man you should have feared the most among those blood-thirsted monsters. Yet, he was the only one who treated you with respect and kindness.

Sometimes, you wondered if he really cared about you. Once you had even dared to ask him why he protected you from his subordinates, although you never received an answer. His stolid façade never cracked.

Maybe, he did not genuinely care about you and, if he had bumped into you on the battlefield, he would have probably sliced you up like a tenderloin, but there was something else in his icy blue eyes, when he helped you clean your wounds, or left new novels on your nightstand for you to find when you woke up in the morning.

He was just executing Yhwach’s orders, right?

“Don’t mess up her face, Candy! I want my new toy to look pretty!” Giselle’s voice abruptly interrupted your stream of consciousness, reminding you of how miserable your end was going to be.

How ironic was it that you were thinking of Haschwalth Jugram in the last moments of your life?

Candice hummed and sprinted towards you, a sadistic smirk gracing her lips as she consumed the distance between you two. You flinched in anticipation, waiting for her fist to make contact with your cheek, but a gust of wind whipping your face and the sound of a sword being unsheathed made you instantly relax.

You could have not been so lucky, right? But his deep voice echoing through your room and the gasps of fear from your aggressors made you lift your lids up to witness to the scene unraveling before your eyes.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, but apparently you two understand only violence. — Haschwalth said, his tone of voice flat but firm — Leave this room and do not even dare to glance at her anymore” he deadpanned, watching as the two Sternritters reluctantly nodded their heads and darted their eyes on you one last time, quick to leave you two alone.

The door closing behind them with a slam made you release a breath you did not know you were holding. He had saved once again. Your fingers were still trembling as you hopped down from the windowsill, your feet finally hitting the polished floor. You were still breathing quite heavily, your mouth dry, making it almost impossible for you to even mutter a simple ‘thank you’.

His back was still facing you, his broad shoulders and his height imposing over you and causing a turmoil of contrasting emotions in your stomach.

“Thank you, Haschwalth” you breathed out then, darting your eyes on the white wall not to be forced to lock eyes with him, when he turned around to look at your shaking frame.

Blonde and long hair, light-blue eyes and that white uniform he wore had always reminded you of how similiar to the popular portrait of a Prince Charming he was, despite his cruel intentions and villainous antics. His exterior jarred with his physical appearence.

“You were lucky I was around” he stated flatly, his eyes intently studying your features.

What was that insufferable feeling consuming him from the insides, whenever you were around him? It was not only connected to the way your beauty whetted his appetites, it was not a lustful and carnal desire. There was more. You were most likely the only person he did not enterily despise.

“Yeah, probably” you replied shortly, fumbling with the hem of your shirt in nervousness. He could sense you were avoiding his gaze, fear and anxiety were flinging around you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, not moving an inch from where he was standing.

“I’m fine”.

Haschwalth did not trust you. He took a single step towards you, his hand reaching down to raise your face and his thumb and forefinger grasped your chin. Your eyes met for a split second, your heart skipping a beat at the unexpected gentle touch, but you were still way too shaken from the previous events to even bear a confrontation with him. Therefore, you swatted his hand away and took a step back, only to end up against the wall behind you. Your back flattened against it, your eyes half-lidded as you shot a pleading glance up at him.

Haschwalth was not surprised by your reaction but, instead of pushing your buttons further, he dropped his arm back down his side and arched a blonde eyebrow up. You had never really shoved him off of you, when he tended your wounds or checked on you. Something had changed. Was it only fear? The fear of being touched by one of the same people that had tried to harm you was undoubtedly coursing through your veins, glowing into your wary eyes, but there was something more. It was another kind of fear.

“What is it now? Am I not allowed to touch you anymore? You did not seem to be that scared of me before” he pointed out, resting his left hand on the hilt of his sword out of habit.

Cold sweat ran down your back at the accusation. Why had you escaped his gentle touch? It was not the fear of being hurt. You were liking your proximity, his concern, even though it was surely fake, was comforting. You liked his touch and that fact terrorized you to the point that your stomach clenched and twisted at the thought of how you craved some warmth, especially his warmth.

“It’s not—” you started, but a knock on the door cut you off, as Haschwalth immediately walked up to grasp the silver handle and opening it.

A petite woman, holding a refined silver tray in her gloved hands, came in. Her eyes were downcast as she silently settled it on your table, before bowing her head at the both of you and scurring out of your room. She did not fear you. She would have probably been capable of causing you enough damage to kill you, if you two were to engage a fight. It was him the one she was scared of.

“I was just about to wish you a good rest. Enjoy your dinner” he then spoke out, glancing briefly at you before disappearing behind the door too.

Once again, you were alone with your thoughts and contrasting feelings. You were not that hungry anymore, after what had happened, but you needed to eat to keep yourself healthy. As you sat down at your desk and poured yourself a glass of water, you realized that the event causing your lack of appetite was not what had happened with the Sternitters T and Z. It was the Sternitter B’s fault.

A restless night followed your meal. You thought you could find some peace among the silky bedsheets of your bed, but everything about that bedroom reminded you of him. Your eyes darted on the clock beside your bed, sighing as, much to your dismay, you realized it was two in the morning. For three hours you had tried to shift positions, read some more pages of the historical novel Haschwalth had left for you to read, but nothing worked. Your body craved some sleep, but your mind was unstoppable.

In a utter distress, you scoffed and sat up on the bed, bringing your knees to your chest and curling yourself up in a ball. Your forehead rested on the top of your knees, eyes closed, as you listened to the steady sound of the clock ticking. You were tired of being stuck in that place, you were tired of restraining yourself to feel forbidden emotions.

But just when you thought things could not get worst, you heard the door creaking open again. You lifted your head up, alredy alarmed by the fact that someone was entering your chamber in the the dead of the night, when you were supposed to be vulnerable and asleep.

However, as you jumped out of the bed and switched the lights on, you gasped at the sight of Haschwalth holding some books in his hands. He furrowed his brows, clearly not expecting to find you wide awake and ready to throw hands, if it was necessary.

“I thought you were asleep. I apologize, it was not my intention to startle you” Haschwalth declared, settling the three books over the desk.

You shrugged and looked at your feet, realizing how poorly covered you were before him. Your nightgown barely reached the middle of your thighs, granting him the chance to look at the entire length of your legs.

“I can’t sleep. Thank you for the books, anyway” you said, gesturing at the novels he had just brought to you as a form of entertainment from the living hell you were experiencing. It was a small attention he reserved to you, one of the things that made you believe he actually had an ounce of uncontaminated respect towards you.

“It’s nothing. You told me you liked to read, when you arrived here. You mentioned it being the closest form of freedom and escapism a prisoner could get to experience” the tall Sternitter said, his eyes somehow softer as he gazed at you.

Was it an attempt to make a small and civil conversation with you? Whatever it was, you were glad he had given some importance to your words. While the accomodation was something he had provided you under the strict command of his King, this was a small gesture of sympathy and mercy coming right from his core. In that very moment, it was hard believing he was the same cold-blooded man that had massacred legions of shinigamis before your eyes.

You bitterly smiled, making an effort in dealing with reality as you bit the insides of your cheeks. You oughed him some sort of an answer and, judging by his curious gaze, he was expecting you to reply something.

“You were not obliged to lend me your novels. I thought you were supposed to simply keep me alive and hold me captive… — you reasoned, your voice calm as you switched your attention from the blue cover of the book to his pale visage — These small gestures are not your Master’s orders, am I right?” you inquired, hoping this time he would properly retort something instead of walking away and avoiding your questions.

“Why do you care? It’s not the first time you’re questioning my actions” the blonde man noted, elgantly gliding his hand over the smooth surface of the desk.

You hated the way your eyes followed his movements attentively, or the way your mind played tricks on you.

‘How would those huge, calloused hands feel on my skin?’ you asked yourself, before turning around and sitting on the edge of the bed. The tension was palpable and you were more than sure that, despite the umpertubable expression freezing his face over, he could sense it too. After all, if your eyes had acted on their own accord and lingered on him for way too long, his ones were doing the same.

“Because I can’t figure you out” you admitted softly, sinking your foreteeth onto your bottom lip right after it.

You did not expect him to bother keeping this conversation up, but you were surprised as he took a step towards you and looked down at you. His jaw was clenched, eyes boring into yours in what resembled frustration, a battle clearly waging into his logical mind, as he stunned you in silence with his own confession.

“Honestly, I cannot figure you out too and it is driving me nuts” he stated bitterly, causing you to swallow down forcefully.

You tried to speak again, but the only sound leaving your lips was a small gasp of surprise as he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you up on your feet. You craned your neck to look him in the eye and all you saw was a primordial desire, the same flame enveloping your heart and leaving ashes in your chest.

Before you had time to realize what was happening, his hands glided down your spine, until he hooked them behind your thighs and lifted you up easily. Your eyes were wide opened, as your legs were now tightly wrapped around his waist. What followed was a sinful action you did not fully know back then, if you would have ever been able to forgive yourself from having done.

His lips hingrily captured yours, as he made your back flatten against the wall. Your fingers found his hair, as your lips followed the lead of the man used to command and give orders. His tongue dominated yours without any resistance coming from you. It was too much to handle, too pleasurable to stop now.

A small moan left your lips, as he bit down onto your lower lip before he attacked your neck with equal hunger for your flesh, for you. You felt your cheeks boiling, his touch consuming you to the bone as if he was coating you in lava. Each bite onto your neck, or down to your cleavage, was a sign of how much he was conflicted by what he was feeling around you. You made him lose himself, it was unacceptable.

As his hand slithered down in the middle of you thighs, you felt ashamed of yourself for how much you wanted him to touch you. Haschwalth groaned as the pads of his fingers met the damp fabric of your panties, gliding them up and down through the thin item only to increase your arousal.

“Dripping for your enemy, tsk” he rasped, tugging them harshly to the side before drawing irregular patterns over your bundle of nerves.

Electricity coursed through your veins, your toes curling at the dirty remark he had made. The worst part of it was that he was right, there was no way you could deny it, or hide it from you. Not when his fingers easily delved into your warm core. Whimpers of pleasure fell from your lips as you lolled your head back against the wall, chest raising and falling erratically as you tried your best not to make too much noise.

However, despite his long fingers thrusting into you made it hard to think straight, you somehow still found the guts to fire something back.

“I may be dripping but you’re rock hard” you panted, mewling as Haschwalth remove his index from your aching heat and settled you back down on your feet.

His hands meticulously slipped underneath your nightgown, grasping the straps of your underwear and dragging the item down your legs, until they rested on your ankles. He was feral, almost tearing the panties apart as he hastily tossed them somewhere behind him. Haschwalth knelt down in front of you and grasped your right leg, draping it over his shoulder as he shot a lustful glare.

“I liked you better when you simply moaned” he remarked, before running his tongue flatly down your slit. You whined, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers threaded his hair in pleasure. No one had ever gone down on you like that, as if the juices streaming down your inner thighs were some divine nectar.

His lips sucked deliciously on your throbbing clit, making your legs shaking violently as you tried to keep yourself straight against the wall. You could not get enough, your mouth hanging open as you did not even care about who heard you anymore. Who would have complained about what was happening in your bedroom anyway? There was a perverse sting of satisfaction and pride in watching the Sternitter Grand Master delve his tongue into you. He was on his knees for you, serving a prisoner as if she was some queen whose approval counted.

As you whimpered one last time, hips bucking up against his face, Haschwalth growl and squeezed your rear in primordial desire. You came onto his tongue, almost slumping down onto the floor as he pulled away from you and wiped his chin and mouth with a tissue in his double-breast jacket.

More. He wanted more, he was ready for more. He could not fight the attraction he felt for you, therefore he had no qualms about dragging you to the bed and quickly unbuckle the belt of his trousers. Your eyes were glued on him as you watched the way he slowly stripped out of his candid uniform. His abs, his chest, his thighs seemed the precious work of a greek sculptor. Never in your life you had seen someone as perfect as he was.

You thought that removing your nighthgown was the least you could do for him. You did not fail to notice how his eyes gazed at your perky breasts, just like you almost flinched at the sight of his shaft spriging out of his tight boxers.

“Come here” he said, his tone unnaturally soothing as he climbed onto the bed and stood up on his knees. You did not hesitate to follow his command, your mouth watering as you crawled up to him and gently wrapped your hand around his cock. There was no more shame in your eyes, your body almost moving under the influence of a forbidden desire eating you up from the inside.

You heard him suck in a breath, his eyes closing, as you started to swirl your tongue around the pinkish tip to tease him. His hand grabbed the back of your neck and prompted you to give him more, to part your lips and let him experience the warmth of your welcoming mouth. You did not put on a fight, eager to hear him grunt just as much as he had enjoyed breaking you earlier. Each inch you took in made him tightened the grip on your hair, your mouth and tongue working to let him accomodate into your cavity.

“Damn it…” Haschwalth huskily said, a guttural moan falling from his lips, while you bobbed your head up and down to elicit more moans from him. Yet, he stopped you. Gripping on your hair tightly enough to make you pull your mouth away from him, he sighed and pushed you down onto your back.

For a second, you thought you were not doing a good job but, when he hovered over you and spread your legs for him to settle in between, his thumb brushed over your lower lip and he whispered something in your ear that made you whimper in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, it’s just that I intend to empty myself into you” he uttered, hooking one of your leg around his hip before shoving himself into you slowly, gradually.

A strained moan left your lips, as he grunted and bit onto the crook of your neck with each inch he conquered into you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your skull, the intrusion both pleasurable and painful as you adjusted yourself at his impressive size.

As Haschwalth carefully began to thrust into you, your hands cupped his smooth cheeks. Your lips found each others in sloppy and messy kisses, so unlike him, out of his style, out of the world. You could not believe you had allowed him into your bed, the sound of skin against skin filling the room and fueling something inside the composed Sternitter.

His hand found its way around your neck, the other flying up to the bedhead to balance himself as his hips smacked against yours in a feral pace. You did not protest to the blatant act of dominance, the grip on your neck only increasing your pleasure as you could focusing on your sensation.

“H-Hascwalth, I—” you whimpered, eyes watering as you gripped the bedsheets beside you so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“I know… Me too” he rasped, before releasing your neck and kissing you passionately. Your legs shook, your moan muffled by his lips pressing against your as you both came. His forehead was resting against yours, as he panted and gently stroked your cheek.

Sleeping was not hard, after that. You fell asleep over his chest, one of his arm draped over your waist in a firm grip, in which you woke up in the morning. Once again, when he slept, it was hard to believe Haschwalth Jugram was a monster. Haschwalth Jugram was just an angel who had lost his wings down his way to Hell.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am not going to apologize for that long and lewd one-shot. Actually, looking back at all of my works, this is probably the filthiest thing I have ever written in my life, lol! Well, what can I say? Some characters bring out the worst in me… Let me know what you guys think about this! Likes, comments and re-posts are always appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o

Edit : why is this my only original post with over 20 likes, lmao 😂😂😂

Edit 2.0: Damn, 30 likes, thanks guys!

*yells across the internet *

Hey mom, im famous!!!

Edit 3.0 : my new high score is 45, bro how does this happen😭😭

Edit 4.0: 67! Wow !