#anna karenina x reader
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etherealily · 9 months ago
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​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇪​ // 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘪 𝘷𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘺
Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader
Warnings : Cuss words.
You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.
'Cross that line for me, sweetheart?'
Desc. : You are not a temptress, but he is tempted.
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It was curious, to say the least, how land was divided. The conch next to you was half your property and half the Vronsky estate's property. It had remained that way for ages.
The waves lapped up the sand, like a heart reaching desperately for its other half as you sat watching the entire ordeal.
The Line - one drawn up every morning and marked by tiny flags as placeholders - had always pissed you off. Intrigued you. What would happen if you were to... just a finger? The hem of your dress. Would you immediately be shot at by concealed snipers? Perhaps you'd have to be tried in court.
You had never really noticed much about this Vronsky character before. Another handsome, manipulative bastard. Nothing much.
In turn, he'd also never noticed you. A face. One of many. Beautiful, of course, he was not blind, but never seen as worthy of his efforts. You were not rebellious. You were not adorably innocent. He could not entice you. He could not corrupt you.
In theory, your paths were never to cross. Different lives, same circles.
The key word : theory.
Because there are moments in life when you know that nothing will ever be the same again, when you know that your proverbial pathway is forever skewed and rerouted. These may appear to you embossed in calamities such as loss and grief, or these may be whispered in your ear by silent smiles, lovestruck looks across a ballroom, or the simple offer of champagne.
Or, in the case of you and Alexei Vronsky, all of the above.
And this was one of those torturous, life-altering moments.
"-And that's when I said, it was just a bloody goat !"
Booming, drunken laughter ensued from your left - the other side of the Line. Fuck. Keep drawing, shut up, keep drawing, shut up.
Your pencil made unintelligible sounds as it scratched out a somewhat passable depiction of the moonlit waves. The screams and guffaws grew louder, but the issue was that if you moved, he'd assume you did it because you were on his side. You were not, but it would look highly suspicious if you fled.
No. They'd quietened down. Meaning either they left - highly unlikely - or, they'd noticed you.
"Oi!"
Don't respond, don't respond.
"You! Pretty girl!"
Drunk men are terrifying. How could such kind words be said in a way that made your skin crawl?
"Mate, maybe she's a mute. Or deaf. Or both."
"I know for a fact she's not. She's got quite a mouth on her, as I can remember from last year- HEY! LADY WITH THE SKETCHBOOK!"
And that was Alexei Vronsky. His story with the goat had ended, apparently. Ugh.
You turned. "Uh, hello."
"ARE YOU A MUTE?" his companion yelled.
"Are you daft? She just answered! How could she be mute?"
Drunk men are also idiotic.
"WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER HERE, WE'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DRAW?"
Bellowing laughter followed.
For fuck's sake.
"I'm alright, THANKS!"
"OI, C'MON! WE DON'T BITE!"
From what you'd heard, he does.
"IS IT 'CAUSE OF THAT LINE?"
"Good night, Count Vronsky.", you called back, as you gathered up your things and stood, dusting the sand off your dress.
"HOLD ON! WAIT!"
"Let'r go, mate, c'mon, we've got a party to get back to."
"I WAS JUST BEING NEIGHBOURLY, YOU BITCH!"
FUCKING HELL.
"What did you just call me?!", you yelled, turning. He looked back at you in a swaying, inebriated haze, trying to focus those glaciers he called eyes on yours in the darkness.
"A witch. You've cast a spell on me, bewitched me, so to speak. You're magic."
Ugh. "Whatever."
"Just come over here, or I'll have to come there, and you wouldn't like that.", he slurred, his friends chortling and egging him on.
Buggering Christ.
"You can't. See?", you replied defiantly, pointing deliberately at the faint white outline of the line they renewed every morning with chalk powder. "That would be trespassing."
"I'm Alexei Vronsky."
What was that supposed to mean?
"So? It's still trespassing. My family's had it in for you for a long time - we'll take you to court."
"Then you come here.", he shrugged, taking an unstable stumble closer. "Cross that line for me, sweetheart? Yeah?"
"You're a creep. And you're drunk."
"You're a beauty. And you're technically trespassing, so I need to punish you."
"HOW am I-"
"Your pencil." Fuck. How is it he's sober enough to notice that, but not sober enough to know that his buddy said 'the coat storage' not 'the goat story'?
"It blew in the wind."
"Yes. To my estate."
"You can keep it."
"Are you sure? Isn't this your, uh, fabulous pencil from Paris you were talking of?"
"No." Yes.
"No?", he frowned, picking it up. NO! Not in his grimy, disgustingly delicate fingers. "Seems pretty French to me."
"Are you actually inebriated or do you simply enjoy pretending to be so that you can get away with things?"
He stopped swaying, pointing the pencil in your direction as he placed the other hand behind his back. "You're sharp."
"So you're sober?"
Drunk Vronsky could have been molded. Sober Vronsky was a cunt.
"More or less. My friends feel left out because they are unable to hold their liquor as well as I can, so I act for them.", he explained, with a small look behind him, at his comrades trying to jump over the waves as they came.
"You should be in theatre, then."
"Adding performer to my resume is just a smidge too over-accomplished.", he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.
Ugh.
"So you're going to hold on to my pencil, then, I'm guessing."
"What? No, I know how much this means to you."
Trap. You'd bet your entire estate it was a trap.
"I will give it back.", he continued as he paced, his hand still placed behind his back as though he were planning war strategies. "On one condition."
See? Trap.
"Dinner. With me. Tomorrow."
Did he think this was a smart way to secure an evening with a woman?
"I won't be here tomorrow." Bold-faced lie, and he could tell.
"Then tonight. Right now." You couldn't think of anything you were doing.
"And I'll get my pencil back."
"Yes."
"That can't be it. There's a catch."
"You are... remarkable. Yes. There is.", he whispered, softly, as though impressed that you caught on. "Champagne. I wish to see you drunk. Drunk, in denial and... ruined."
Lot of darkness for someone who'd just been talking about a goat.
"In denial?"
"Nothing. Just... join me for dinner and drink a little, and I promise you shall have your pencil back."
"I do not drink."
"Then I do not return fancy French pencils."
"I can always purchase another."
"You do not have sentimentality, then?"
"No." Yes.
"I see. Then you may be on your way."
"I don't have to go anywhere. I have every right to be here! This is still my side of The Line."
"Suit yourself, darling."
The silence that followed was torturous and unbearable. "I do not like steak."
"Then you shall have no steak."
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His eyes focused on you from across the table, his spoon paused midway above his plate. Eyes like the ocean in a storm. Terrifying but alluring.
"Enjoying your not-steak?"
You hid a smile. "Yes, I am."
He nodded, bringing his spoon up to his lips as he watched you do the same.
"You've left your friends out there?"
"They know not to cross The Line. They will be alright."
"Why is it you wanted to have dinner with me? To trap me into trespassing?"
"I've wanted to speak with you since I first saw you." Lie.
"And I you." Lie.
"What was it you wished to say?"
"Simply a greeting. You?"
"The same."
He set down his spoon, scrunching up his napkin as he stood up and walked the short distance across the table to you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. "You promised you'd drink."
"I did?"
"You did.", he whispers, accepting the newly-uncorked bottle the servant handed him, and pouring it into the glass next to your plate, smoothly. "And you're a good girl who keeps promises, yes?"
You'd heard he loved using such degrading language, but this was the first time you'd seen it firsthand.
"What gave you that idea?"
"I just figured you were of proper breeding and were raised right."
Good answer.
"Well, the words 'I promise' never left my mouth."
"Well-bred women do not look for loopholes. And they most certainly do not argue."
Lord knows where he'd worked up the audacity to brush some hair off your shoulder, but perhaps he was born with it imbibed in his blood.
He narrowed his eyes at your unchanging expression. "Drink."
"I am not done with my food."
He breathes out loudly, taking your plate and thrusting it into the hands of the nearest servant. "Yes, you are."
"I still have dessert."
"No, you don't. Drink."
"This is not champagne. You said champagne."
"And you said you'd drink. We both have uttered falsities. Drink."
"I fear you may be trying to-"
"Poison you? I am not. I would not like to see you die."
Was that supposed to be some form of assurance? Romantic? Caring? That did not have the intended effect.
"Drink, lovely."
It irked you how invested he was to see you drunk.
You wrapped your fingers around the glass, bringing it to your lips. Tilting it upwards, you let the liquor cascade down your throat, and echoes of your sputtering filled the room - it burned.
He laughed heartily, shaking his head as he stroked your shoulder from behind you. "Do you know what that was?"
"No. But I do know I will not take another sip."
"It was vodka, my dear, and in a few moments, you will want more. Trust me."
"I'm not taking another sip of that ghastly liquid!"
"Not even for me? Not even if I begged?"
"You think your begging has any effect on me?"
"Doesn't it? I'm known to be quite persuasive, and- besides, aren't you supposed to be the empathetic one in the family?"
"And where did you hear that?"
"Just about everywhere, really.", he huffed, resting his elbow on the table as he knelt down by your side. "'The youngest is the nicest one. She cares the most. Empathetic.' Surely you are not telling me those are lies?"
"Not lies, but exaggerations, perhaps."
"I am quite literally on my knees, and you should realize how rare that is. Drink more or I will have to force you."
You frowned at him.
"I will do it. Force you. Don't think that because I have let you in my house so courteously that I will continue to be a gentleman with you."
"How could you be? You're nothing but a cad.", you scoffed, as you took another stingingly painful gulp.
He watched the glass, your tongue, your throat, almost mesmerized as he replied. "A cad?", he questioned softly, amused but still fascinated by your every movement.
"A cad.", you nodded, trying not to show how much you were gasping for breath. It hurt, satisfyingly.
"That's a first. No one has ever said 'oh, Alexei Vronsky, that cad'.", he murmured against his palm as he observed you meticulously.
"Then they have met a different person."
"You say this out of personal experience, do you?"
"I've met him. The Alexei Vronsky. He only thinks of one thing."
A lilt of his lips. "And that is?"
"Himself."
He concealed a grin.
"Or perhaps...", he mused, fingertips on the back of your neck as though he were playing your skin as one would a piano. "He is one who shows different versions of himself to different people."
"So he is deceitful."
"I'd say careful."
"Would you, now?"
"I think we put up far too many false pretences anyway. No point in fighting it - it is necessary, to be part of society."
"And what false pretences am I putting up, in your expert opinion?"
He smiled, one too pure to match the description you had so harshly delivered a moment before, but you knew more than most that it was a ruse. "Drink more."
"You're an incredibly demanding man, aren't you? Dine with me. Drink more. Not a single please, nor thank you.", you retorted, as though that could take away from the fact that you obeyed.
"When you are incredibly in demand, you learn to be incredibly demanding."
If ever a smoother talker existed, you'd wager he'd simply be Alexei Vronsky in disguise.
"So tell me, then. Are you a gentleman, a cad, or an opportunist, Count Vronsky?"
You had to steer the conversation back to him, because whatever this vilely beguiling liquor was, it was shooting through your veins at a rate too fast to risk talking about yourself, lest any family secrets spilled out.
"I am whatever you want me to be. And you? Are the rumours true? Are you a virgin, a temptress, or a genius?"
"I am whatever I want to be. For tonight."
"Come morning?", he murmured against your neck as he slipped a finger under a loose strand of hair, and twirled it with such dedication you would think that were his only purpose in life.
"A memory."
"Well, we can't have that.", he pouted, as he stood up, gently taking the glass away from you and finishing the last of it. "What does it take for a memory to stay in the present?"
"Vronsky-"
"A dance, perhaps, as they say you enjoy?"
If you weren't unsure of the functionality of your motor skills in your drunken haze, you'd have punched him right then and there.
"The rumours aren't true, you know?"
"What rumours?", he asked, feigning obliviousness.
He'd just spoken of them, but you were quite sure if you reminded him, he'd attribute it to the vodka. Tell you you were 'surely imagining things, dear one'.
"The ones that led you to come and have a go at me."
"Those? Oh, I didn't believe them for a second.", he grinned, his eyes examining the filthiest, most remote parts of your soul - ones that even you had never been privy to.
A moment washed over the both of you, tauntingly. You looked for any secrets in his eyes, and he looked for any in yours, albeit, more calmly than you.
"Come.", he mumbled, finally, offering his hand for you to get up out of his disgustingly well-crafted chair. "Let's get you back on your side of The Line."
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"There. Oh, and here. I am of proper manners.", he added after you'd leapt over The Line, handing your pencil back over to you.
It felt oddly anticlimactic after the events of the evening.
His icy blue eyes - striking, so striking that they pierced you - fell onto your lips for just a moment before landing on the pencil in your hand. "You don't want it back."
"What? Of course I do."
He had you. He was onto you.
"Let me rephrase. You don't need it back."
"Sentimentality. Of course I do."
"You really don't want it to stay in my possession, instead?"
"No."
"Liar.", he smirked, his lips curving deliciously, and you just about lost it. "You know I'll take very good care of it, no? Like I took care of you, tonight. No complaints, yes?"
"Besides the aggressive persuasion to drink a fiery liquid that most probably burnt my throat off, no."
"You exaggerate. Tell me tonight was just another of your dull nights. Tell me I haven't been a source of reprieve from your tedious, mundane days of fakeness and gossip."
You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with a reply, although you already knew that any response- or lack thereof - would be all too telling.
"You cannot, can you?"
There was nothing you hated more than when men were right.
Especially men who were as captivating as Vronsky. It was unnecessary and dangerous.
He beamed, clearly so fucking proud of himself, as he looked out at the waves. "It is a lovely dress you are wearing."
No, it wasn't. It was the most commonplace of dresses one could wear. But he'd say it anyway. Because that was his play.
"Thank you."
"It is disgusting, though."
"In what way? A disgusting display of my wealth, or disgustingly lovely?"
He knelt down next to you from the other side, on the sand. "It is disgusting that such beauty and purity like yours can exist and people continue to slander its name."
Had you been a lesser woman, you'd have fallen for it.
It seemed, however, that he knew you wouldn't. It was confusing, to say the least, whether he was being genuine or being genuinely fake.
"It is how I live."
If you'd read him right, he should say something along the lines of...
"It shouldn't be."
There.
"However... the dress in itself is not disgusting?"
"No, it is spectacular- although, I must say, the woman wearing it is far more ravishing."
Games get boring when they are predictable.
"So. What is it you normally do after parties, since you cannot get drunk? Unless blackmailing women to dine with you and drink your vodka is your usual pastime."
He snickered, although a slight maliciousness infiltrated his gaze for a moment. "It isn't so much a pastime as... an unfortunately common occurence. Perhaps that's why you've got an opinion of me as a - how'd you put it?"
"A cad."
"Ah, yes, a cad. I wonder if your opinion has changed."
That was not hope in his eyes, no. That was a challenge. 'Go ahead, say no. If you dare.', his look said.
"I wonder that, too. Perhaps it will if you keep your promise."
"Promise?", he repeated, raising a brow. He knew. He knew all too well what you were saying.
"False pretences.", you reminded, watching him as he watched the waves distort the light of the moon. "You said you would tell me what false pretences you think I put up."
He was far too close. The incredibly fragile, entirely imaginary Line wouldn't be able to stop him from reaching over and touching your shoulder once more.
"I think... do you want to know what I think?"
"I might."
"I think that you're lying when you brush off the rumours."
"You think I am a slut? A temptress?" Now, suddenly, the monotonous nature of everyday seemed far more interesting than the thousandth iteration of the same conversation.
"No, I think you brushing them off is the lie. They affect you far too much." Alright. That was... progress.
"Do they, now?"
"Very much. And there is one more, as well, although I doubt you will like to hear it. You crave to prove them right."
Congratulations, Alexei Vronsky, you've caught my attention.
"That is an extremely, extremely bold suggestion."
"Yet you are not denying it."
"I do not wish to have my virtue questioned, Vronsky, and us having dinner does not change that."
"But it pokes at it, does it not? A slight scratch, an itch, asking if that is what you really want. It blurred the lines, did it not?"
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
"You're an incredibly delusional man, Count Vronsky."
"A delusional cad."
"Precisely."
You didn't miss the amusement in his tone, the laughter, the way he knew how perfectly right he was.
"Well, this delusional cad did not lie, earlier. You truly have bewitched me, my dear, and I do not think I shall ever turn you down."
He stood up, dusting the sand off his gloves and pants. You stood up too, not out of respect, but out of the desire to relish his face once more.
"Turn me down?"
"When you inevitably ask for me when your marriage is dry, lifeless and torturous."
Good lord. How long had he been- how far ahead was he thinking?
"I will be right here. On this side."
"Why are you so adamant that my marriage will be-"
"Because I'm the one you need. You've broken quite literally every rule tonight. Crossed the line, fraternized with the enemy, drank unfamiliar alcohol that could so easily have been poisoned or used against you."
"How does that make you the one I-"
"I'm taking you out of your comfort zone. Freeing you. What more would one want from a lover?"
So casual with that word. Lover. As though that was all you two had been, since the beginning.
"Have I mentioned that you're-"
"Delusional? Yes, you have. But you have also yet to mean it."
Who the hell allowed this man to be so confident?
His thumb rubbed against your cheek in pure tenderness that you are well-prepared for - you've learnt over the years he's unpredictable, and since his mercurial nature was the only predictable thing about him, it was easy for you to guess his next move.
Or at least, figure out that it would be the exact opposite of the tone of his words.
"I can help you, you see?", he said, words so faint they were almost whisked away in the sea breeze. "Honest."
"Was that the point of tonight?"
"No, the point of tonight was to get you so utterly inebriated that you would tell me your family's secrets, and hence, your own."
That was the only thing that had come out of his mouth all night that you could guarantee was the truth.
"And since that did not happen, you are doing this?"
"No, I couldn't let that happen. Unwrapping you, figuring you out, it is far too intriguing a task to complete with a glass of vodka and enticing words. I want to spend years, decades, the rest of my life, performing this task, revealing you slowly and addictively, until I have lost myself or driven myself crazy trying to reach the core of your soul."
The silence kissed you two over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. "You are terrifyingly good at this."
He almost looked like he was about to say 'at what', but it seemed his mood had turned too serious to coax a half-hearted insult out of you.
"And you are terrifying. You are like the eye of a storm, intricately, almost... sinisterly drawing me closer."
"I'm not sure what you want me to-"
His lips devoured your words, and you could not help but think that this night had progressed far too rapidly to your liking. He was a stranger, a random man who you shared nothing but a flimsy little line with, but here you were, letting him kiss you, letting him ruin you, letting him convince you with his words that this was a good idea.
"Come on, darling.", he murmured against your lips, his eyes still half-lidded in a triumphant haze. "Cross the line. I promise, I'll take care of you."
You surrendered, and all you could do was hope that his beauty was simply angelic in nature, and was not designed for the sole purpose of ruining you and every iota of self-respect you had.
Hard to tell, but perhaps he had meant it that way.
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hexlenx · 2 months ago
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And second request!(well technically third but still, hhihihi-) Once more, army badass aloof fem reader but this time attending the ball where Vronsky meets Anna. She dances with Anna and is slightly interested in her, but Anna of course is interested in Vronsky, only for surprise surprises, Vronsky is interested in the reader! All of this of course still being a reader x Vronsky if it makes sense, i just found the idea a bit silly if the reader is mainly army oriented and rarely enjoys herself such as attending balls and Vronsky finds this as a perfect opportunity to attempt to spend more time with her under the guise of simple officers chatting together while of course he puts on his best charm, only for her to be already dancing with Anna. Bonus points if reader ends up introducing Anna to Vronsky or something. Also reader slightly oblivious. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!
A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to post, love. I was trying to fit the scenes together because I wanted the image(how the scenes look in the imagination as well as the emotion in the words.) to look good together. It was a challenge because we all know that Vronsky is a very strong character and Anna is also a complicated person to write about in my words because she gets carried away by her emotions often, right? I do hope you like this one and I'm really grateful that you trust me in making your ideas come true with writing!! Make more requests if you have any more ideas you'd like me to write about, I love a challenge!
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MY GAZE IS FIXED ON YOU AND ONLY YOU — alexei vronsky
note: as usual I do not own any of the characters and the plot is from our lovely requestor @petalsbloom ! I am only the writer for their amazing ideas!
warnings!: none other than alexei being hot fr.
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You have always hated parties, specifically balls. You just didn't understand why they should hold a type of party like this just to dance and mingle with the nobles. It was deemed unnecessary for you, well perhaps it's because you are a general that you have no such need for something like this.
Being a general has its perks, having connections already made from the army, even with the most notorious noble House of Russia, the Dukedom. It made you feared, admired, wanted and most of all, powerful. It is no surprise that you wanted that power, though you remained humble and modest about it. Power is a big responsibility and you wanted it, now that you have it, you are satisfied.
At least until your gaze was swept away by something you've never thought would leave you unsatisfied with your standing.
The ballroom was filled with the voices of nobles and soldiers alike who wanted to create connections as well as to mingle for the night. You were beside a pillar to the east side of the room, standing quietly as you leaned against the pillar with a wine in hand.
Unlike the young noble ladies in the ball, you were wearing a formal dress that looked like what the men were wearing. Navy robes that look that of a royal, fitted pants with the same air of colors and golden buttons as well as accents to finish the beautiful and manly outfit that fitted your curves. It is not ideal for a woman in the society but they cannot deny you looked devilishly good looking. Your hair, though, was in a low ponytail to fit your look and your face naturally free from makeup as you looked beautifully without it.
You were bored, very bored. It was your first time in attending a ball as you've rejected it multiple times before becoming curious onto seeing what it felt like being in one. Your curiosity killed you, with boredom.
You sipped on the cold wine in your hand as you looked around in a daze, you were looking for a time to escape but something passed by your sight, causing you to follow it.
A woman, beautiful, enticing and seductive walked from your sight. She was dressed in a black gown, contrasting the bright colors around you. It hugged her figure, curves highlighted from the corset tied against her waist, shoulders peeked out with no dress sleeves making you see her shoulder blades from the back, it enticed you, intrigued you.
Your eyes followed her figure as you sipped from your wine once again, not daring to look away, afraid that you will lose sight of her when you do. The woman stopped in front of the Princess of the night, Princess Kitty, the one debuting along with other noble ladies. She seemed to be close with the princess and pushed said princess lightly towards a man dressed in white that fitted his figure nicely. It was Count Vronsky, a fellow general in the army.
But you had your gaze fixed on the woman who caught your interest to even notice the intense gaze of a pair of ocean blue eyes that belonged to a certain Count.
The moment the Princess went to dance with the Count who seemed to be a bit in disdain as he elegantly moved the practiced choreo for the ball, you began your way to the woman who watched by the entrance of the ball. She was watching the pair in a bit of sadness, wishing it was her dancing with the man, not that you knew.
Clearing your throat the moment you were beside her, you took her hand and kissed the back of it while putting your gaze onto hers intensely, not pulling away for a second when she finally noticed you. The gaze of yours made her flustered but her mind was reminded of a certain ocean eyed man's gaze when you did the action.
"May I have this dance, M'lady?" You uttered out to her in a husky manner as you were entranced by her beauty. Not trusting her voice, the woman nodded and with that you swept her away from the entrance and into the ballroom.
To you, it felt like a dream, it felt like it was only the two of you dancing in the middle of an empty ballroom. Something you have never felt before and it made you feel warmth, your heartbeat steadily beating faster than normal as you lifted the enticing woman up before slowly letting her down. Eyes locking intensely as your chests were held closely together, faces inches away, lips almost locking as you stared into her dark brown eyes. It was a fantasy come true that you didn't even dream of having.
But sadly without you noticing, the woman was only looking at a certain Count dancing with the Princess who looked heartbroken when she saw the gazes of her partner and yours locking as if in a trance. What the princess didn't know was that, the Count wasn't looking at her friend, but on you. He was clenching his teeth behind his closed jaw, jealousy running through his veins as he saw how closely you were with the woman.
How he hated you being with someone else entirely from him.
Alexei didn't really want to attend this ball as he'd rather be in his home or perhaps with you, if he found you. That is until he heard from a colleague of his that you were attending the debutante ball for the Princess. That's how he ended up talking with the other generals in one spot of the room. His ears listening to the chatter but his mind and eyes going elsewhere, he was trying to find you.
Taking a sip from his drink, he bid the men goodbye before walking around the sides of the room to find where you are. Nodding towards other nobles who greeted him, shaking hands with the men, he was annoyed but he didn't show it on his face as he smiled politely towards the people who blocked his path now and then.
A flash of navy from the other side of the room caught his eye and he saw you, walking like the queen you are, his eyes taking in your appearance, the curves highlighted by your fitted outfit, the way it hugged your waist, your hips swaying as you walked and—Alexei bit his lip to stop himself from groaning in such a public setting, his eyes settled down onto your thighs that seemed too thick for the tight pants you wore. He always had a thing for those but only for you.
He saw you walking towards the entrance where a woman in black and the Princess were busy talking to each other. He quickly moved his feet towards the location, stopping only a couple of meters away from the Princess before he got called by said Princess, who turned around when the woman in black tilted her head towards behind her.
"Oh, Count Vronsky! How is your night?" Princess Kitty greeted the blond man who clicked his tongue silently from being interrupted. He masked his disdain and proceeded to take the Princess' hand and kissed the back of it to show respect. It was obvious that this young woman wanted him to court her and he couldn't reject her in front of a large audience as she was a Princess, disrespecting her right now would mean treason for the Royals.
"Your Highness, you look lovely today and I quite enjoy the bustle of today's ball with you as the center of it." He compliments the Princess who was oblivious to the sarcasm in his words, not that it was obvious but his eyes held that word as it crinkled in irritation but it looked as if he was flirting with the young Princess.
Years of practice, I suppose.
Knowing what this would lead to, he offered a dance for the Princess who joyfully accepted his proposal thinking he was interested in her, which sadly he was not. His eyes locked briefly with the woman behind her before sweeping across the floor with the Princess.
Throughout the dance, he was bored and irritated but his mask was perfectly worn as the Princess successfully remained oblivious to such disdain. The dance was about to end and he was planning on asking you to a dance after.
But as he moved his finishing steps, he saw you, with a woman, the one the Princess was talking to, the woman who wore a black dress that contrasted the bright colors of the gowns around them, that woman.
Jealousy build up in his veins as he slowly came to stop as he watched the both of you. The way you looked at woman made his eye twitch in anger, it should be him. It should only be him.
As he kept watching, he didn't notice that he stopped dancing and the Princess looking heartbroken by the sight in front of her. She didn't know that he was looking at you as your back was turned against her and she could only see her friend, Anna Karenina. Jealousy and sadness filled her as she looked back and forth from Alexei to Anna, it looked like they were both entranced with each other but in truth, Alexei had his gaze stuck on the female general's back.
Breathing in heavily, Kitty slowly walked away from the Count who didn't even notice her. This just proved that he will never belong to her, not when his gaze was filled with admiration and infatuation on another woman that is not her.
Alexei continued to watch you dance with that woman, jaw clenching in disdain. You looked like you were in a daze and when you and your partner finished the dance with your bodies so close to each other, he snapped and walked away.
You didn't notice it as your gaze was fixed on the woman in front of you who smiled at you after thanking you for the dance before walking away to the same direction Alexei went. As you stood in the middle of the ballroom you thought.
I'm going to make her mine, just you wait.
But what you didn't know was that a certain Count thought of the same thing but his declaration was not directed towards the woman in black, but to you.
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fr-ogii · 2 years ago
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falling for you
count vronsky
x fem!reader; poc friendly
masterlist
request: "romantic hc when he meets his now wife after Anna's death and how he fell for her 💎✨" @hilalcoven
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-> the count never thought he could fall for anyone ever again after the death of his lover, anna. he didn't even know how he would be able to live. he couldn't raise annie, their kid. despite barely having any distinguishing features yet, the thought that she would turn into someone that resembled anna was too much to bear. he felt awful that his daughter had to lose both her parents in such quick succession, but he could not force himself to raise her.
-> he had sworn off love entirely, convinced it would bring nothing but misfortune to him and any future lover of his.
-> but he changed his tune when he met you.
it was a cold september night in st. petersburg. it had been a couple years since the fateful day anna lost her life. the count had returned to the city from serbia - his time fighting against the ottoman empire was up.
he had expected the pain of his loss to have reduced itself after the years both away from anna and away from the city he became acquainted with her in. unfortunately for alexei, the pain came back as soon as he saw the skyline of st petersburg emerging from the horizon.
to escape this, vronsky visited a tavern as soon as he arrived in the all-too familiar city.
the warmth of the bustling building rushed to meet him as soon as the count opened the well worn door. the stench of cheap alcohol enveloped him as soon as he stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. his eyes landed on the bar that was situated a bit further back into the establishment and was occupied by two men who were clearly foreigners to this area and were speaking quickly in a tongue alexei could not understand. as was the unspoken rule, alexei sat two stools over and waited for the worker behind the bar to come over.
count vronsky had become impossibly quiet in the time away from anna. he only spoke when addressed. he avoided confrontation. it was as if the death of the mother of his child had left him mute.
an uncountable amount of minutes passed before a noise brought alexei out of his stupor. he had long since received his meal - a roasted meat he already forgot the name of. the pale ale in his mug had been nursed far too many times and was nearly gone.
his head snapped up when he heard that noise again. it was the trotting of a horse and the spinning wheels of the carriage it was pulling. there was something so recognizable about it. before alexei could be sucked back into his reminiscing tendencies, he turned around as the wooden door opened.
and there you were.
he wouldn't exactly call it "love at first sight", but he was certainly intrigued. count vronsky looked around the bar and noticed a couple other men that let their eyes flicker towards you periodically. aleksey stood slowly, stretching out the aches and pains that had grown in his joints in the many minutes he had been sitting. he would not let another man reach you before he could. and so, he began to walk over to you.
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floatyflowers · 1 month ago
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Platonic yandere older brother Alexei Vronsky from Anna Karenina?
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The grand chandelier illuminates the opulent ballroom as laughter and music fill the air, yet you feel Alexei’s oppressive presence even in the crowd.
He’s been by your side all evening, subtly deterring every potential dance partner with a sharp glance or a polite but firm comment.
As another young gentleman approaches to ask for a dance, Alexei smoothly intercepts, his charming yet menacing demeanor leaving no room for argument. His quiet words,
"My sister isn’t accepting offers tonight," carry an unmistakable finality.
When you finally snap and confront him, seething with frustration.
"You don't have to be like that, I haven't danced with anyone since my arrival nor have I danced with anyone at any ball."
Alexei leans down and whispers with a cold smirk,
"You don’t need them, little one. You have me."
"You can't control me forever, Alexei," you state, your voice low enough to not draw attention.
"If you try, I’ll tell everyone about your little… affair with Anna Karenina."
Alexei’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk.
"Do you think I care for their judgment? Say what you like, dear sister. It changes nothing."
As the waltz began to play, you tugged your wrist free, your temper boiling.
"Do you think your obsession with controlling me is noble? Or is it just as selfish as your secret meetings with her?" Alexei leaned closer, his smirk never faltering.
"You’re bold tonight, sister, but let me remind you, no one would believe you, they all see you as the innocent little flower, untainted and sweet. Do you think they’ll take your word over mine? Now, go back to your seat, or I’ll make sure you regret this."
Determined not to let him win, you continue threatening him.
"You underestimate me, Alexei."
You smile at him tauntingly.
"I know exactly how to make them listen, a few whispered words in the right ears, and your precious reputation will crumble. What will she think when her name is dragged through the mud because of you?"
For the first time, a flicker of something dark passed over Alexei's face, but it vanished just as quickly.
"Do you think I care about her reputation?" he asked, his smirk returning, though his eyes glinted coldly.
"I care about you, and I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine.
"Go ahead," he murmured, gesturing toward the crowd.
"Make your scene, but remember this whatever you do will reflect on our family. Every rumor, every scandal will tarnish your name as much as mine."
His hand moves towards the golden lock you are wearing, opening it to reveal his and your picture together when you both were children.
"So, by all means, let us enjoy the night and dance with each other and only each other."
With that Alexei leads you to the dance floor in the middle of the ballroom.
Anna Karenina and Kitty Shcherbatsky watch you and your brother dance, realising that they could never be close to the handsome man as you are to him.
Only if the relationship is purely platonic.
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pretty-little-mind33 · 30 days ago
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Count Alexei Vronsky x fem!reader
Summary: You're forced into an arranged marriage.
Genre: fluff, angsty
Warnings: Alexei is kind of an asshole in the beginning, reader is from France, the daughter of a Marquis, and she is described as having hair that can be pinned up and curled (otherwise no descriptions), sexism of the time (very mild)
~ thank you anon! sorry this too forever (this was requested ages ago)!! ~
COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST
As you brush your hair in the mirror of your vanity, staring unemotionally at the girl staring back, your mother's words ring in your ear. "Love, beautiful love, can be learned, ma chérie (my love)," she'd promised, as her hand lay on your nervous knee, smoothing her thumbs over the crinkled skirt of your lavender dress, the fabric bunched up from hours of carriage riding. 
"I did not love your father when I met him. Not in the beginning." Your mother smiled and continued, "But, when it finally happened—and it will for you too—I could not imagine myself without him." 
And you did believe her. Up until you took your first step on Count Vronksy's estate, the sun hot and warm on your skin, you listened to your mother's proclamations of true love with attention and yearning. 
You still want to believe her even now.
Your future husband's lips had felt so foreign on your upper palm, the feeling more like a courtesy than something intimate. He hadn't said a word, minus the polite greetings that frankly don't count in those situations, as he stood beside his mother wearing an oddly vacant expression. The blue shine of his eyes mirrored an ocean you imagined losing yourself in, but one you couldn't yet reach. 
You suppose you should feel incredibly lucky that he didn't turn out to be some old, hideous, nobleman with crooked teeth and chapped lips. You certainly did feel lucky that the only reputation he had was player tendencies and fleeting infidelities—which your mother promised you could be dampened with time and care. 
"He will be a good husband to you, mon amour (my love). Give him time."
Your mother sounded so sure, but you didn't know how much time your heart could handle without breaking.
Across the house, Count Alexei Vronsky paces his bedchamber, his white chemise hung loosely over his shoulders as he practically tugs at his blond curls. His mind races with countless scenarios and possibilities as he plays the memory of meeting you on an endless loop. 
"Alexei," His mother, Countess Vronskaya, chastises as she sits on his bed, her lips pursed. "You are acting like a spoiled child. Sit down." 
Her youngest son shakes his head, his voice coming out strained. "I cannot do this, Mama," he says, meaning every word. "I do not know her. I cannot love someone I do not know!"
"Love?" Countess Vronskaya scoffs, staring at him with sharp eyes, "What on earth has put that silly word into your head? And don't tell me it was your little affair from a few months ago—oh, the shame—" she fans her lace fan faster and then shuts it and abruptly lays it onto her lap.
"Alexei, love does not exist. Responsibility, on the other hand, does. It is your responsibility to make up for your mistakes and this is the solution. Marriage. Besides," she fans herself again, "You can easily have Mistresses, I am not denying you that so please, stop this nonsense at once."
"I do not want any Mistresses!" Alexei exclaims, his frustration growing.
Countess Vronskaya stares at her son with an expression of annoyance and disbelief. "Then what, pray, do you want? To bring further scandal upon this family with your childish rebellion? You will marry this girl. It is not a request but an order."
Alexei drops to his bed, his head held pitifully in his hands as he calms his breathing. He pretends he's anywhere but here, his mind focusing on how the wind against his window sounds like waves crashing onto sand. 
One. Breath in.
Two. Breath out.
Three. Breath in.
"I understand, Mama," he whispers, knowing he has no choice in the matter. 
* * *
One. Breath in.
Two. Breath in.
Three. Breath in.
"Maman, it's too tight, I cannot breathe," you whimper as you press a palm on your stomach, feeling slightly light-headed as the maids tighten your corset and slip over your periwinkle dress, the silk sliding over your shoulder as one hangs delicately to the side. It's a simple dress, minus the puffs and ruffles. "Beauty is pain," your mother says, nodding her head as the maids continue to dress you up. 
They pin up your hair with a silver pin and wrap your neck in pearls, adding earrings to finish the look. "Charmante, ma chérie (Beautiful, my dear)," your mother admires as she stands and pushes a stray curl behind your ear.
"Il va t'adorer (He'll adore you)."
You focus on her promise as you walk down the grand staircase and enter the ballroom, which is illuminated by golden chandeliers and sparkling candles. The event looks lavish and it seems to you that Countess Vronskaya had invited all of Russian Society for the announcement of your marriage. Your stomach churns with nerves as you glance around the room. You don't know how to introduce yourself to the women who stare judgmentally from behind their fans. 
Your mother takes your arm and leads you to the center, where Count Vronsky stands beside his mother again, chatting ideally with some other aristocrats. Upon seeing your arrival, he turns and you hold out your hand, his lips brushing your skin in the same fleeting manner as it had earlier. 
"Good evening, Lady Y/l/n," he says, looking you over and you wonder if you look unpresentable from the way he's staring. His gaze then shifts to your mother. "Marquise Y/l/n."
You smile up at him. "Good evening, Count Vronsky," you say and then smile at his mother, "Countess—" You swallow your words when she sees your dress and her frown deepens. 
"What is this?" she asks with a hiss, her voice low. Alexei tenses from beside her. 
"I beg your pardon?" you whisper, eyes wide with confusion as your mother's frown deepens.
"Your dress. It isn't suitable for an occasion like this," Countess Vronskaya almost snarls, looking around the ballroom and then her eyes land on you again. "You look positively underdressed!" She sounds completely taken aback and almostdisgusted as she looks you up and down. You feel stupid and exposed, hearing her tell you this in front of your future husband. You don't dare look at him.
Your mother takes the fall. "I didn't know this wouldn't be suitable for this occasion, Countess Vronskaya. In France—" The Countess sends her a dirty look, clearly having no patience for any explanations.
Your mother exhales, "I assure you, Countess, the fault lies with me. I misjudged the attire. I apologize for my mistake," she says with a forced smile, pushing on your back to move you closer to Alexei—who still hasn't said a word. "Our children should have a dance, shouldn't they?" 
You look up at Alexei, your chest tightened as you make eye contact. Countess Vronskaya doesn't seem pleased but she nods and Alexei holds out his arm, his lips still shut as he stares in front of him.
You hesitate but take his arm as he leads you onto the dance floor and begins the dance, his hand around your waist. You try to remember the moves and once you're finally comfortable, the dance is suddenly over.
"I���" 
Alexei interrupts you with yet another chaste kiss to your hand and then he spins around, his posture as composed as it always is. He excuses himself and walks to make conversation with other guests, leaving you all alone. 
You stare at him, blinking back tears. How are you supposed to love him if he won't even talk to you? You feel hopeless as you stand there, feeling stupid and lonely in your dress.
So lonely. 
* * *
Alexei's knee bounces impatiently as he waits. You're over thirty minutes late. None of your maids have seen you and neither has your mother. His mind flashes back to last night; your pretty smile, the sound of your voice and the curls in your hair—the ones that had gotten slightly messy with the constant movement of your head. He feels a tightness in his chest. 
Where are you?
The thunder cracks outside, the rain pouring against the window of the parlor. It's a dreadful day and it only creates a pit in his stomach at your disappearance. Something is wrong.
"Should I fetch your mother?" One of the maids asks timidly when, ten minutes later, you still haven't shown up. Alexei takes a breath and shakes his head, he stands and holds his head in one hand. 
"No need, it's fine, I'll—" 
He's interrupted by the sound of a familiar neigh-ing outside the window. His head snaps around and his eyes widen. "Frou-Frou?!" he gasps, seeing his horse out in the rain. His eyes widen even more when he sees familiar hair blowing messily in the wind and rain, covered only by a flimsy cloak.
He stands and runs outside, ignoring the calls from the confused maid. All he can think of is Frou-Frou and you. Frou-Frou doesn't do well with strangers and Alexei knows that the slightest jerky movement could startle him and he could unintentionally hurt you. You. Why would you steal his horse? In a thunderstorm no less? 
Are you running away?
"Y/n!" he screams into the yard. You're approaching the fence but Frou-Frou's never ridden outside of the manor without him. Alexei breaks into a run and curses when Frou-Frou makes a jerky movement, kicking you from his back as you scream. The rain is blurring Alexei's vision now as his white shirt becomes soaked. His hair is sticking to his forehead as mud from the grass sticks to his boots. You've fallen into the mud and grass, your skirt heavy under the extra weight of the rain.
Seeing him run up, you try to stand to run but the mud slows you down and you fall again. Frou-Frou panics from the rain and the situation and he runs off. "Damnit," Alexei curses, hesitating. He knows Frou-Frou isn't going to leave the grounds without him, so he turns and grabs you under your armpits. "What is wrong with you?!" he hisses as thunder cracks again. You kick your feet, mud splattering his trousers and Alexei's chest tightens when he sees the tears in your eyes. 
"Don't touch me!" you hiss, hitting him as you try to stand in the mud. 
"What were you thinking?" he demanded, pulling you upright. "Were you attempting to flee?"
"Why should it concern you?" you spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.
"Because you are my betrothed!"
"And you do not love me," you hiss. Your heart is thumping and you hate how pretty he looks, wet and disheveled. You hate how your heart reacts to him in ways you're sure his doesn't when he looks at you.
Alexei groans, his head already hurting from this entire situation. He just holds you tighter. "You are correct—I do not know you well enough to claim such feelings for you. But I do not wish to see you harmed, running recklessly into a storm! My God, you already drive me mad! How am I supposed to tame you?" 
He sighs, his voice drifting when he realizes he's said the wrong thing as your expression twists into one of pure anger. You hit him with your palm, mud flying into his hair. 
"Tame me? Is that how you see me?"
"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that," he tries to explain, shielding himself as he keeps his hold on you. You're so different from when he'd met you yesterday when you'd been on your best behavior— he groans when you pull away, only to slip and fall.   
You shriek when he falls over you, the rain still pouring on you both. It's almost comedic now, your dress and his chemise a mess of dirt, mud, and rainwater. "Lady Y/l/n, please," Alexei tries again, struggling to get you to listen to him. 
Once he's leaning over you, his knees digging in the dirt as he holds your hands beside your head, he whispers; "My darling, please, you misunderstand me." 
You're breathing heavily now, your gaze intense. 
"I do not love you, but that doesn't mean it has to be like this our whole lives," he whispers, not sounding quite like himself. He lifts one arm, finger gently tracing your cheek as he slides the mud away. "It does not mean I want to see you hurt, running off in a storm with my horse." 
You calm your breathing and when you move to sit up, he does the same and you both catch your breaths. The rain is soaking you both, the cold air chilling your skin, and you watch him. He doesn't look as distant anymore. His skin is smeared in mud and his blond hair is askew. You push some wet strands of hair away from your eyes, half wishing he would have just let you run away. 
As the storm begins to calm and the rain softens to a gentle drizzle, Alexei's breathing is calm.
"I did not mean to frighten you," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "I just—I feel so out of place. As if I don't belong here. As if I don't belong with you in your world."
His expression flickers, and for the first time, you see a vulnerability he's been keeping hidden beneath his polished exterior. "Do you think I don't feel the same?" he asks quietly, his voice raw. "I have spent my life pretending to be the man everyone expects me to be. I have never been what anyone truly needs. I am not fit to be a good husband."
The honesty in his words sends a sharp hurt through your chest. "Then why chase after me?" you ask, your voice shaky. "Why not let me leave if you feel the same way?"
Alexei hesitates, then with a deep breath, he moves a little closer, his eyes searching yours. "Because," he begins, "when I saw you out here, stubborn and fearless in this storm, I realized something. You might be the only person brave enough to truly see me. And if I let you leave, then I would regret it until the day I die."
The rain has nearly stopped now, the storm's fury replaced by a stillness that feels almost unreal. You're unsure what to say, your chest tightening with the weight of his confession. For a moment, neither of you moves. The distance between you feels both vast and insignificant, the air thick with something that will probably remain unnamed.
Then, almost tentatively, Alexei leans in, the lips that had barely let themselves brush your hand, now kiss your forehead. You inhale.
"We can figure this out," he murmurs against your skin. "Together. Please do not run anymore. I can do better, for you."
You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling in your heart as you take them in. A moment passes and then you force a small smile, leaning into him as you nod.
"Okay. Let's go find Frou-Frou then," you whisper, earning a smile from Alexei. Your smile widens a little. Maybe your mother was right—maybe love could be learned. And perhaps, just perhaps, it could start here.
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icedheartss · 6 months ago
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I think I have a type . . .
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ikkyfics · 2 months ago
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Restoration
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Count Vronsky x fem!reader
Summary: You allowed your heart to fill with a faint hope. Maybe Alexei could love you. Maybe time would make this more than an arrangement, more than a contract. But then Anna came along.
Warnings: angst, marriage in crisis, emotional conflict
A/N: My fourth request - anon, sorry if I strayed a little from the proposal, it's the first time I've written about marital problems, so I hope it wasn't too bad
Masterlist - Restoration Spin-Off
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The hall was silent now, with the distant echo of the last celebrations echoing through the corridors. The moon streamed in through the window, its silvery light highlighting Alexei’s contours as he moved around the room with elegant ease, his jacket already undone, his cufflinks set aside. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your heavy wedding dress still intact, your hands busy with the embroidery of the veil that you weren’t sure how to remove.
Arranged marriage. The word had been weighing on your mind since the moment you heard the news months ago. Your fate sealed in meetings between families; your life decided before you could even formulate your own wishes. But deep down, wasn’t that what every woman of your position expected? To grow up hearing that she should be an exemplary wife, produce heirs, build a respectable home. Yet, between the expectations and your solitary dreams, there was an almost childish desire for love—a love that blossomed in the unexpected, that overcame the cold barriers of a social contract.
And then Alexei had come into her life.
A tall man, with a presence that was impossible to ignore, eyes that held something between amusement and danger, a smile that seemed designed to disarm anyone. He was charismatic, that was undeniable. At every meeting before the wedding, his words had been gentle, but there was a confidence in them that seemed both unpretentious and rehearsed. He knew the effect he had—and he used it skillfully.
Yet he had never been cruel.
“You seem to be trapped in a maze of thoughts,” Alexei said, his low voice cutting through the silence. He was close now, closer than he should have been, and you could smell the faint note of brandy on his breath.
“My lord…” you began hesitantly, but he held up a hand, as if stopping her was a natural gesture.
“Alexei,” he corrected. The name sounded intimate on her lips, and it made him smile. “I want you to call me by my name. We’re not strangers anymore, after all.”
Your breath caught in your throat. He was watching you in a way you couldn’t quite decipher yet—not predatory, but as if he was studying your every reaction, as if he found pleasure in seeing you flustered.
With deft fingers, he reached out and effortlessly began to undo the delicate pins that held the veil together, his eyes still fixed on yours.
“Let me help you.” His voice held something softer now, almost intimate, and the touch of his fingers on your skin made heat rise up your neck.
It was this charm, this ease, that made you wonder if there could, in fact, be love in your marriage. He was an enigma: gentle, yet impenetrable. Seductive, yet never completely surrendered. And yet, throughout the weeks that followed the ceremony, he had been careful.
The wedding night had not been what you had feared. Instead, it had been marked by unexpected patience, by quiet words spoken in the dark, by touches that seemed almost studied to ease your tension. And the following nights were no different, filled with a passion that was restrained and yet intense.
For you, there was something sacred about these intimacies. You wanted to give him an heir, yes, but there was more: you wanted him to see you as more than a wife chosen for convenience.
You allowed your heart to fill with a faint hope. Maybe he could love you. Maybe time would make this more than an arrangement, more than a contract. Still enchanted, still nervous, by the idea that perhaps it was possible to find love in this man’s eyes.
The two weeks of your honeymoon passed in the blink of an eye, but you felt as if you had lived a dream. Alexei was the personification of kindness—attentive in every small gesture, tender in every word, always one step ahead in caring for you. Under the sun of a place that seemed so far away from everything, he made you laugh with his witty observations, gave you goosebumps with subtle touches, and looked at you as if you were the only person who mattered at that moment.
Now, as the carriage made its way to your new home, you watched the changing landscape through the window, but your mind remained anchored in those moments. There was something new growing inside you, a feeling you barely dared to name.
“Lost in your thoughts again?” Alexei interrupted your contemplation, his voice low and soft. He was leaning back against the seat, his eyes shining with something between humor and tenderness.
You smiled, blushing slightly, but before you could respond, he leaned forward, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “I hope those thoughts include your husband. It would be terrible to find out you’re dreaming about someone else.”
Your laughter escaped before you could contain it, and he followed suit, the sounds blending together.
Back at the house, the routine began to settle into a slow but comfortable dance. Alexei seemed to know exactly how to make every moment of the day special—the way he would take your hand at the dinner table, the smiles he would give you when you walked into the room, the casual touches that seemed to last longer than necessary. There was a magnetism about him that made your heart race without warning.
It was during one of those nights, after dinner, that he brought it up.
“Have you ever thought about how many children you would like to have?” he asked, his voice calm as he held a glass of wine in his hand, his gaze fixed on you.
The question took you by surprise, but the tone of his voice reassured you.
“I… I don’t know for sure,” you replied, looking down at your hands in your lap. “What do you want?”
He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the armrest and his face in his hand, his eyes still fixed on you.
“Whatever you want, my dear. As long as it brings you happiness, that will be enough for me.”
The words were simple, but the way he said them—with a light seriousness, almost unpretentious, but sincere—made something inside you heat up.
It was then that you decided.
The nights—and sometimes days—of passion became frequent. You could never have imagined the intensity he brought with him, how each touch seemed charged with a greater purpose. He was patient and tender, but there was an almost electric energy that made it impossible for you not to lose yourself completely in him.
On one such morning, the sun timidly entered through the window, casting a golden glow over the bed. You were leaning against his chest, your fingers drawing lazy circles on his skin, while Alexei’s messy curls fell over his forehead.
“You’re thinking about something again,” he said, his lips curved in a lazy smile, his hands tracing soft patterns on your back.
“Maybe,” you replied, biting your lip to hold back a smile.
He tilted his head to get a better look at you, his eyes alight with amusement.
“Then tell me. I want to know what’s going on in that busy little head of yours. Don’t keep your secrets from me.”
You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.
“I was just thinking about how different you look like this…” you said hesitantly, but he arched an eyebrow.
“Different.”
“More…” You searched for the words. “Human.”
Alexei laughed, the sound vibrating through your body, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.
“Is that a compliment? I hope so, because my wife is seriously risking hurting her husband’s pride.”
The laugh was inevitable, and he joined in, a wide, disarming smile on his lips. You loved that smile—so rare in public, but so natural in moments like this.
There was a gentleness about Alexei that he seemed to save just for you, a kind of intimacy that made your heart yearn for more.
The halls sparkled with the reflection of the crystal chandeliers, the sound of the orchestra filled the air with elegant melodies, and you felt the eyes of many on you. Alexei had that effect—a natural magnetism that didn’t go unnoticed anywhere.
He looked particularly stunning that night, with his perfectly tailored suit and his golden curls combed with a charm that seemed casual but that you knew was meticulously calculated. Every smile he offered made the people around him glow as if they had been touched by a ray of sunshine.
And you were right there with him.
He made a point of keeping you close, his hand firmly on your back, guiding you through the circles of high society with unshakable confidence. Whenever someone made a comment or leaned in to talk, Alexei found an opportunity to whisper something in your ear—a witty observation, a sharp comment, a little teasing. It was impossible to hold back your laughter, even if you tried.
“They’re all watching us, you know?” he murmured, with that smirk that always made your heart race.
“Of course they are. Because of you,” you replied, trying to hide the blush that threatened to rise to cheeks.
“No. Because of you. You leave them speechless, my darling.”
Before you could protest, he pulled you into another dance, the third that night. It was more than protocol dictated as appropriate for a married couple, but Alexei seemed immune to the veiled criticism. His every move was fluid, as if he were born to lead a waltz, and he made sure you were the only one who felt it.
“Should I worry about what they’ll say about us?” you whispered, slightly breathless, as he twirled with calculated precision.
“Let them talk. I don’t care, and neither should you.”
And at that moment, you really didn’t care.
But then she walked in.
Anna Karenina didn’t need to say a word to draw their gazes. Her black dress contrasted with her pale skin, her hair shining in the light of the chandeliers, and there was something about her posture—a natural confidence that made the entire room seem less grand.
You noticed the subtle change in Alexei before you even looked at him. His eyes, always so intent on you, shifted. It was only for a moment, but it felt like an eternity.
He recovered quickly, turning to you with a soft smile, as if nothing had happened.
“It’s Mrs. Karenina, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone casual and unconvincing.
You simply nodded, keeping your expression neutral.
Out of courtesy, or perhaps something more, Alexei approached Anna. After a few brief, polite comments, he held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
You saw it all.
The way Alexei bowed slightly, the slight tension in his shoulders as he waited for her answer, and then the way she smiled before accepting. They were a vision together—he with his natural elegance, and she with an almost defiant magnetism.
The dance was… different. There was no denying it. The entire room was watching them, and it seemed like they didn’t notice anyone else. The rhythm of the waltz seemed to be dictated by them, each step, each turn perfect, as if they were in another world.
You felt something tighten in your chest, but you kept your composure. When Alexei returned to your side, he smiled as always, as if nothing had changed. He took your hand and led you for another dance.
Later, back in the bedroom, he took you in his arms with a passion that seemed almost desperate. His touches were intense, each kiss carried an urgency that you didn’t fully understand, but accepted.
As he slept beside you, his golden curls falling over his forehead, you watched him in silence. He seemed so peaceful, so much yours in that moment, that you decided that everything you had seen before meant nothing.
“None of that mattered,” you told yourself, closing your eyes. “None.”
The days that followed were peaceful, almost idyllic. Alexei was still as affectionate and attentive as ever, filling the moments you spent together with laughter and tender gestures. He made a point of looking you in the eyes when he spoke, as if you were the only person in the world who deserved his attention. Yet, there was something different.
A sparkle in his eyes—an energy you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed more attentive, more restless, but never in a way that diminished the care he showed you.
That morning, he kissed her before leaving, holding your face in his hands. “Goodbye, my dear. Be well for me.” And then he was gone, leaving behind a void that the house could not fill.
It was the first time you had spent so much time alone. You tried to keep yourself busy, supervising the servants, organizing small details to make the home more welcoming and, finally, preparing to receive some ladies of society. The afternoon brought restrained laughter and lively conversation to the drawing room, as the women settled in with cups of tea and delicate sweets.
The conversation flowed as usual, until a name came up casually, but with a devastating impact. “Anna Karenina was stunning at the ball, don’t you think?” The air seemed to grow heavier around you.
You kept smiling, raising the cup to your lips, but your fingers tightened slightly on the porcelain.
“All the men only had eyes for her, even the married ones,” one of them commented, letting out a muffled laugh. “But of course, she’s a married woman, so it’s just… admiration, isn’t it?”
You forced a laugh along with the others, but the words echoed inside you. Her name seemed to have taken root in your mind, and each time it was repeated, the knot in your stomach tightened a little more.
When Alexei came home that night, the sound of his boots on the wooden floor made you straighten your posture and put a smile on your lips. He appeared in the entrance, as always impeccable, and his smile immediately widened when he saw you.
“My dear.” He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, his warm hands holding your waist. “Did you miss me?”
You melted, as always. It was impossible not to get lost in the attention he gave you, in the low, intimate tone of his voice, in the warmth he seemed to carry with him.
“How was your day?” You asked, trying to sound casual as you followed him to his office. “Did anything interesting happen?”
He paused for a moment, taking off his coat and hanging it up carefully. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual business. And your day? I hope you weren’t bored without me.”
You smiled, shaking your head. “No, the ladies came to visit. It was a nice afternoon.”
He stepped closer, lightly touching your chin so you would look at him. “I’m glad you did. You deserve to be surrounded by good things.”
The knot in your stomach tightened again, but you pushed it away. Don’t be silly, you thought. He was a kind and caring husband, someone who always made you feel special. Your marriage was better than most other women’s, and wasting time on dark thoughts would be foolish. When Alexei kissed you again before going to change, you decided you had better believe it.
Time passed, bringing sunny days and starry nights as you and Alexei indulged in your mutual desire more and more. He seemed more than happy to respond to your attempts to conceive, and you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed seducing him.
There was something powerful in the way he looked at you, a glint in his eyes that told you he wouldn’t resist anything you asked. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, my dear?” He whispered as he pulled you closer, the heat of his words almost as overwhelming as the touch of his hands.
In the mornings, when the sun was barely breaking over the horizon, Alexei would sometimes hold you in bed, preventing you from leaving. “Don’t go yet,” he would murmur, his voice hoarse with sleep, his strong arms wrapped around you. “Stay with me a little longer.”
And in those moments, with your head resting on his chest and his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin, any doubt that tried to sprout in your heart was forgotten. He made you feel loved, wanted. The world seemed to not exist when Alexei was only yours.
But the world, inevitably, kept turning.
Meetings with the ladies were a crossroads between gossip and appearances, and you did your best to maintain your composure. Still, the whispers about Anna Karenina and Alexei kept finding you, cutting like sharp knives disguised as smiles.
“He’s so devoted to his wife,” one of them would say, almost enviously. “But it would be a wonder if his eyes didn’t follow her too. Who could blame him? Anna is stunning.”
You forced a smile and stood up straight, as a good hostess should. But every word seemed to erode a little of your confidence.
Alexei was still the loving husband he had always been, but there were moments—small, fleeting, but undeniable—when he seemed distant. His eyes, though focused on you, were elsewhere.
And though he would never admit it, you knew there was something more. His schedule seemed different. He would leave early and sometimes come back late, always with a ready excuse, always with a reassuring smile.
“Just meetings, my dear. Don’t worry.”
You believed him. Or at least you tried to believe him.
That night, as he pulled you into a hug on the couch, you snuggled against his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his heart. He stroked your hair tenderly, and for a moment, you thought about asking. About Anna, about the rumors, about the absent-minded glances.
But then he whispered in your ear, “I’m so lucky to have you.”
And you decided you didn’t want to hear the answer.
The days passed, and although Alexei remained affectionate and attentive at times, something was off. He always seemed busy, and you began to notice the gaps—small delays, glances that strayed beyond where you were.
But that wasn’t the typical behavior of an unfaithful man, was it? He still held you by the waist when he passed by, still kissed you lingeringly before leaving. These displays of affection confused your thoughts and increased your anguish.
That night, determined to get an answer, you spent the time leafing through a novel, although the words were nothing more than blurs on the page. There was something on your mind, a restlessness that you could no longer ignore. You were wearing a nightgown that you had previously hesitated to wear, a soft and provocative fabric, with strategically placed lace.
When Alexei entered the room, exuding the freshness of the cold night, he stopped when he saw you. His clear eyes slid over you, shrewd and shining with something indefinable. “An unexpected reception,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something deeper.
You stood up, your heart racing, but your face carefully serene. You walked over to him and began to help him take off his gloves. The coat came next, feeling the weight of the fabric on your arms, while you asked trivial questions. “Was it very cold outside? Did you find who you needed?” He answered calmly, but there was something in his voice that seemed a little distant.
Then, before you could lose your courage, you looked at him. “Alexei…” you began, hesitantly, your fingers lightly touching the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you still happy?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer, and the pause made the air in the room seem thicker. But then, without a word, he pulled you to him. His lips met yours with an urgency you hadn’t felt in a long time, and the answer came not in words, but in actions. He adored you that night, as if you were something sacred.
Every touch, every gesture felt like a promise, and for a moment, you believed that everything was fine again. But when morning came, the unspoken words returned, and the promises evaporated like dew under the sun.
A few days later, at a gathering of the ladies, held in the gardens of a hostess’s house, the rumors reached you again. They spoke in low tones, but curiosity overcame discretion.
“It seems that Anna and Alexei were seen together in the garden, alone.”
You tried not to react, but you felt heat rise to your face and a lump tighten in your throat. “Don’t talk nonsense,” one of the women said. “She’s married, so is he. It’s just rumors.”
Rumors or not, the words hit you like a blow.
That evening, as you looked at Alexei at the dinner table, you noticed the shadow of weariness in his eyes. He smiled at you, the same smile that had so often calmed your fears. But something seemed out of reach.
“What’s wrong, my dear? Is everything okay?”
You just nodded, but in your heart, the distance seemed to grow ever wider, and the two versions of Alexei—the loving man who held you in his arms and the distracted husband who was possibly with another woman—began to overlap, leaving you without answers.
The days became a disjointed dance of avoided glances and touches that seemed more like habit than genuine affection. Alexei would arrive late, his face tired and his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
“Is everything okay?” You asked one night, as he took off his coat, his gaze lost somewhere in the room.
He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Just my duties, love. Nothing to worry about.”
But you worried. His silence seemed louder than any words, and the way he took so long to answer you in certain conversations made the discomfort grow.
“You’ve been working too much,” you commented again, feeling the weight of loneliness as he left her at the dinner table to attend to a letter that had just arrived.
“It’s necessary,” He kissed your forehead before leaving, but the gesture seemed mechanical.
Meanwhile, Alexei, increasingly involved with Anna, felt torn between duty and desire. She was… fascinating. There was something in her way of speaking, in her eyes that seemed to decipher his thoughts before he even expressed them, that made him want to be close to her. Their encounters began to become frequent, and the longer touches were inevitable.
“That’s not right, Alexei,” she said in one of her hesitant moments, although she didn’t pull away when he took her hand.
“Maybe not, but how can you ignore something so… inevitable?”
And he was lost.
That night, at home, you were waiting for him. The dinner, untouched on the table, had already gone cold, but you remained seated, trying not to look at the clock. When Alexei came in, later than usual, something inside you gave way.
“It’s so late,” you said, his voice hesitant, almost a whisper.
He sighed, as if the guilt he was trying to hide was weighing more heavily than expected. “Yes, I’m sorry. The meetings went longer than planned.”
You stared at him, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. “Alexei… I need to ask you something.”
He stopped, his body tense, but he tried to hide it. “Sure, whatever you want.”
“Anna Karenina.” Her name left your lips before you could stop the tremor in your voice. “Do you… what do you think of her?”
For a moment, Alexei seemed to struggle with himself, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. But then he took a deep breath and answered, almost as if he were talking to himself.
“I think she’s amazing.”
The word hit you like a blade, and the world around you seemed to stop. Alexei realized too late the impact of what he had said, but he didn’t try to correct it.
You stood up, unable to hold back the tears that were already stinging your eyes. “Amazing? Is that what she is to you?”
He tried to move closer, but you took a step back, your hand shaking as you gripped the back of the chair to steady yourself.
“It’s not what you think,” he tried to explain, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never… there’s nothing you need to be afraid of.”
But you were afraid. Not just for him, but for the shadow that was beginning to creep into your marriage, a shadow that now had a name and a face.
When he held you in his arms that night, trying to comfort you, you wondered if he really held you or if his mind was still with her.
The glances started as something subtle, almost imperceptible. A second longer of hesitation, a half smile that seemed fraught with pity. But now, it was unmistakable. When you entered a room, conversations would cease for a moment before starting again, whispers slithering like snakes around the corners.
“She’s admirable, don’t you think?” someone had commented once, their voice low but not enough to escape your ears. “To carry on like that, with such dignity. I don’t know if I could do it.”
“It really is impressive,” another replied. “Especially with… well, with everything that’s said.”
You smiled, as you had learned to do since you were a child: with the grace required of someone in your position. But inside, you felt as if a crack were forming, threatening to widen with every strangled comment and look of commiseration.
At home, Alexei seemed determined to erase the marks of whatever was causing your guilt. Fresh flowers appeared on your bedside table, delicate jewelry was left on your pillow, and he never failed to compliment your when they were alone.
“You look so pretty today,” he said one evening as he watched your dress for a social gathering.
“Thank you,” you replied, trying to force a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.
The truth was that the gifts were a cruel reminder. No matter how much Alexei tried to make up for it with kindness, his words about Anna that night echoed like a distant bell, ever present. He thought you were a good wife, a wife as one should be. But that wasn’t the same as loving you.
Meanwhile, Alexei was falling deeper and deeper into what he couldn’t quite name as anything other than fascination. Anna wasn’t just amazing—she was magnetic. Their encounters, though brief, were a relief in a world where everything seemed predetermined. She laughed openly, challenged his ideas with cunning, and the looks they exchanged grew more intense every day.
“You should stop coming,” Anna said during one of their encounters, her eyes shining with a mixture of irritation and provocation.
“I should have,” Alexei replied, but his hand lingered on hers, unable to pull away.
Anna felt her frustration grow. Alexei’s attention, once sufficient, now seemed like a mere crumb. He had a wife he returned to every night, and she… she didn’t want to be a shadow in anyone’s marriage.
“It’s unfair, Alexei.” Her voice sounded quieter, but no less intense. “I’m not the kind of woman who shares. And you know that.”
Back home, you tried not to fall apart. Your routine became a desperate cycle of busyness, trying to keep the house spotless, planning meetings, but none of it filled the growing emptiness. It was in the silence that the tears came, without warning, as you wondered how everything had become so fragile.
And then the nausea began. First, a slight malaise, which you attributed to fatigue. Then, a constant nausea, which seemed to intensify along with your anguish.
Alexei noticed, of course. He wasn’t blind to the changes in you—your lost gaze, your trembling hands, your increasingly hesitant responses. One night, he found you crying silently in the living room, your face hidden in your hands.
“My love…” he began, kneeling beside you. “What’s happening? Tell me, please.”
You shook your head, unable to find the words. How could you explain something that even you didn’t fully understand?
Alexei tried to take care of you in his own way. He brought you warm broth, promised to stay home longer, held your hand as if that would be enough to seal the cracks. But even as he did so, something in him remained distant.
And it was Anna that his thoughts fell upon when the silence of the house became unbearable. She was the opposite of what he had known, a breath of life amidst conformity. But he knew he was being cruel, to you, to himself, to Anna. And yet, it didn’t stop.
While you faced the loneliness and growing discomfort, Anna, in turn, began to feel an anger she couldn’t hide. The idea that Alexei was going back to another woman night after night was intolerable.
“You need to decide,” she said in a firm tone, her arms crossed as he looked at her, speechless. “I won’t be your second option, Alexei. If that’s what you want, leave. Now.”
He didn’t answer, and the silence between them was as heavy as any accusation.
Anna and Alexei had been apart for a few days, but the distance was never more than a pause. It only took a chance encounter — or maybe not so chance — for the attraction between them to rekindle. He saw her from afar at a social event, talking and laughing with a naturalness that seemed to light up the room. She saw him too, and a corner of her mouth formed, full of meanings that only they understood.
At home, you began to connect the dots of your nausea. It was hard to ignore the way the smell of some dishes, once appetizing, now made you nauseous. But you kept your suspicions to yourself, until Natalia, always so attentive, pulled you aside one morning.
“Madam, forgive me for being blunt, but I think I know what’s happening to you.” The maid hesitated before continuing, her voice low and careful. “It could be that… you’re expecting a baby.”
Her words were a shock and, at the same time, a spark of hope. Natalia helped you call a doctor in secret, a trustworthy man who guaranteed discretion. After a brief consultation, he confirmed what you already suspected:
“Congratulations, ma’am. It looks like you’re in the first weeks of pregnancy. Make sure you get plenty of rest and avoid unnecessary worries.”
The news was like a ray of sunshine breaking through dense clouds. It was the first time in a long time that you felt truly happy. The idea of ​​a child was not just a blessing — it was a promise of renewal, a new chance for your life with Alexei, something that could bring you closer together. Without realizing it, you had adopted the habit of running your hands over your belly, whispering little promises to the baby you couldn’t yet hear:
“You will be loved. Always. And you will have everything you need.”
One afternoon, while embroidering in the living room, you lost yourself in thought. Your fingers worked almost automatically, transforming a piece of linen into something delicate and intimate. The embroidery that was taking shape was of a small flower surrounded by arabesques, an image that referenced Alexei's family crest. A gesture that, in a way, linked the father's inheritance to the son's future.
You were so absorbed that you didn't hear Alexei enter the room.
"You're distracted, my love." His voice sounded low, but close enough to startle you.
The sudden movement caused you to prick yourself with the needle.
"Oh!" You exclaimed, bringing your injured finger to your mouth.
Before you could react, Alexei was at your side. He took your hand carefully, observing the small spot of blood.
"Let me see." His voice had a tone that bordered on authoritative, but his movements were incredibly gentle. He pressed his finger delicately, assessing the damage before bringing his lips to the small wound, sealing it with a gesture that made your heart falter.
Alexei, with his always impeccable posture, looked more tired than usual. His eyes, an intense blue that reminded you of winter skies, were shadowed with the hint of restless nights of sleep. His golden hair was slightly disheveled, and you noticed there was something almost vulnerable in the way he kept his expression neutral, as if carrying the weight of something he couldn’t share.
“You need to be more careful,” he said, with a slight frown that quickly softened. He looked down at the embroidery in his hands and arched an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
You tried to hide the linen, but it was too late.
“Oh… nothing much. Just something to pass the time.”
“Nothing much?” Alexei narrowed his eyes, as if trying to guess the reason behind the drawing. “You’re happier these days. It… relieves me, you know?”
His words were sincere, and it touched you. Alexei might have been distant, but there was genuine concern there, even if it was expressed hesitantly, as if he himself didn’t know how to handle it.
“I don’t want you to worry about me,” he continued, holding your hand for a moment longer than necessary. “There’s a lot I can’t control, but… you’re important to me. You always have been.”
You felt the weight of those words, but also the contradiction behind them. How could he say that, knowing what the others were whispering? Knowing that there might be a grain of truth to the rumors?
“Then why…” you began, but the words caught in your throat.
Alexei pulled his hand away, returning to his more formal posture, as if the moment had been a lapse. He cast one last glance at his embroidery before standing up.
“I’ll be in the office. If you need anything, please send for me.”
You watched him leave, and at the same time, something inside you remained torn between the warmth of your concern and the ice of the uncertainty he left behind.
Invitations to social events arrived frequently, but you rarely had the will to accept them. This time, however, was different. The news of the pregnancy seemed to have rekindled something inside you. As Natalia adjusted her dress, you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to see yourself as Alexei would see you.
The fabric of her dress flowed like water in the yellow light of the room. It was a deep blue, almost black, with silver details that sparkled with every movement. Her satin gloves came up to her elbows, and a simple diamond chain rested over her elegant neckline. Her hair was tied in a low bun, with a few strands strategically loose to frame your face. For a tiny moment, you allowed yourself to believe that there were no problems, that your life was as beautiful as it seemed in the reflection.
The theater was a masterpiece of gold and velvet. Huge chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, casting a warm light that bathed the boxes and the audience. The walls were adorned with mirrors and ornaments that seemed to dance in the light. You walked up the stairs with Alexei, feeling the light touch of his hand on your back, guiding you gently.
In the box, the seats were padded, covered in crimson brocade. You settled in next to Alexei, feeling almost safe in that moment. The murmur of the crowd filled the space, a distant sound that seemed to match the growing anticipation for the show.
Then it hit you. Alexei’s gaze was lost in the audience, crossing the distance like an arrow. You didn’t need to follow his gaze to know who he had found.
She was there. Anna.
You knew it before you even saw her. There was something in the way Alexei took a deep breath, the way his shoulders tensed. Still, your gaze shifted, and then you saw her. She was gorgeous, a vibrant red dress that seemed like a challenge, hugging her figure with unshakable confidence. Her hair was loose in perfect waves, falling over her shoulders. When she laughed—oh, that laugh—the people around her seemed to lean in like sunflowers facing the sun.
It was impossible not to compare. You were beautiful, yes, but Anna was a force of nature. There was something about her that transcended appearances. She was magnetic, and worst of all, she seemed unaware of her power.
When the break came, people began to stand, some going to get refreshments, others just to stretch their legs. You and Alexei were silent when she appeared, as if drawn by an invisible magnet.
“Alexei.” Anna’s voice was low, but it carried a natural musicality. Then her eyes fell on you. “And this must be your wife. What a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Your smile was impeccable, polite, but you felt the hidden blade beneath her words.
“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Karenina.” Your voice was firm, but there was a tension in her shoulders that you knew she would notice.
“Anna, please. Formalities between us seem so… unnecessary.” She tilted her head slightly, as if assessing you. “You are even more charming than I imagined.”
You murmured a thank you, aware of Alexei’s gaze darting between you and Anna as if he were trying to navigate a minefield.
“And you, Anna, look, as always… stunning.” Alexei’s voice broke the silence, and the weight of his words was palpable.
For a moment, Anna looked away from him. It was brief, but long enough that you felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath your feet. The way they looked at each other… there was no need for words.
The conversation continued, polite and courteous, but each sentence was loaded with hidden meaning, like a game of emotional chess. You realized that Anna wasn’t just beautiful; she was perceptive, intelligent, and knew exactly how to use those qualities.
“I hope this evening is memorable for both of you,” Anna said finally, with a smile that seemed almost sincere. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”
When she walked away, you felt the weight of the comparisons that inevitably arose. Her posture, her grace, her naturalness… it was hard not to feel small in front of her.
Back in the box, the silence between you and Alexei was almost unbearable. When he touched your hand, just to help you sit down, the heat of his fingers seemed to burn your skin. You wanted to scream, to ask him what she had that you didn’t, but you remained silent. The show started again, but you could barely pay attention. Your thoughts were caught up in Anna, in Alexei’s gaze, and in the growing abyss between the two of you.
When you arrived home, the stillness of the night seemed to stretch even longer than before. The air was thick, permeated with a tension that neither of you dared to break. Alexei led you to the mirror, his eyes dark and attentive. With almost automatic movements, he removed the clips that held your hair, one by one, with reverent delicacy. His hands, firm but careful, touched your scalp, relieving the pressure, and you closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the touch and the lightness of the moment.
Silence spread between you, and you could feel the distance that had settled since the theater. You, with a heavy heart, tried to ignore the echo of those images, the way Anna caught your attention, her beauty, her magnetic presence. Alexei, unconsciously, cast furtive glances, and you, without needing more, knew that his thoughts were far away.
Suddenly, without warning, the tears formed and fell, silent, as if they were a chain that had been waiting for a long time to break. The tip of his fingers gently touched your face, the warm tears still on your skin.
“What is it?” He spoke, his voice low, full of a tenderness that seemed tailor-made for you.
You looked at him, and for a moment, the words were stuck, but the question escaped with a thread of voice, so broken that it seemed like a whisper:
“You… you don’t want me anymore?”
The question seemed like a blade, cutting through the air. Alexei stepped back a little, his eyes wide with surprise, but soon the expression gave way to compassion. He came closer, touching your face with his fingertips, as if he was afraid that you would fall apart in his hands.
“Never say that, never.” His voice was firmer now, and his eyes, which had previously been filled with tension, now reflected a softness that you couldn’t fully understand.
The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same anymore. You shook your head, a tired denial, and your voice, choked, made the air around you seem colder.
“Prove it to me.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling with something inside, and then, with an expression of resignation and affection, he answered, in a tone so sincere that it almost hurt:
“I’ll show you, today. I’ll show you that I still want you.”
And that was how the night turned into an intertwining of touches and whispers, a desire that materialized in a careful, almost reverent way. He kissed your as if each contact was an oath, a commitment that he tried to seal on her skin and in your heart. You felt that he was sharing something, something that couldn’t be ignored — an internal struggle between affection and what was still left in his mind. But at that moment, with every touch, there was a real effort to connect, to show that desire, no matter how much it was confused with guilt and doubt, was still there.
The night was made of touches that spoke louder than any words. Alexei's body moved with a care you had never seen before, each gesture an attempt to fix what was broken. He knew it wasn't a solution, he knew the abyss still existed, but that night, as the two of you met, there was no room for fear — there was only now.
When dawn began to tint the sky with shades of orange and pink, you rested in his arms, exhausted and satisfied, your heart still beating with the memory of the night. The world was coming back into existence in its fullness, but a question still haunted your mind, one you didn't dare to speak out loud:
Why couldn't things always be like this?
The answer remained unexplored, somewhere far away from you, but for now, as the sun began to rise, the only thing that mattered was the promise, still uncertain, that he would be there. Even if the dilemma continued, even if love was divided, at least for that moment, there was something you could believe in.
The afternoon was filled with a light breeze that moved with a whisper, as if it were a warning, a caution. You sat in the armchair next to the window, with the needle in your hands, your eyes fixed on the work in progress. The embroidery fabric was still stained with soft lines, but the thought of your son's layette brought some peace to your heart. But that peace was shattered by a sudden pain that shot through you, a stab so sharp that the world seemed to stop for a second.
You lifted the skirt of your dress with trembling hands and a scream escaped your lips before you could contain it. The sight of those red stains, fierce and cruel, made you tremble, fear spreading through every cell of your body. The pain was overwhelming, but nothing compared to the feeling of terror of losing what was growing inside you.
“Natalia!” Your voice was a lament, a desperate whisper that echoed through the room, each word filled with fear and helplessness. The sound of your own screams seemed distant, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart. You fell to your knees, your vision blurred by the tears that flowed uncontrollably.
The blood. The merciless red. Cruel. It was all you could see.
“Please… No… Not my baby.” The words were mumbled, disjointed, a thin thread of plea as your trembling hands held your belly in desperation. The pain was more than physical; it was a growing emptiness, a loss you weren’t ready to accept.
The hurried footsteps echoed through the house before Natalia burst through the door.
“Oh my God, ma’am! What happened?”
“Natalia, please… save him. Please do something!” Your voice barely came out, muffled by sobs, as you gripped the maid’s arm with a strength that seemed impossible for someone so fragile at that moment. “I can’t lose him, Natalia. He’s all I have. All I… Please!”
Natalia, pale with horror, knelt beside you, trying to calm you down while struggling to hide her own panic.
“Calm down, ma’am, calm down. I’ll call the doctor. Just stay with me. Breathe, please!”
But you barely heard her. The heat of the blood running down your legs was a constant reminder of what was being ripped from you, cruel and without warning.
Meanwhile, Alexei walked along the path that led to the woods, the cool breeze caressing his face with a cruel gentleness, as if the environment did not understand the weight he carried in his chest. Each step seemed heavier, each breath more difficult, as if his conscience fought against his body, insisting that he return. But he kept going. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
When he saw her, sitting on a carefully laid blanket, with a picnic basket beside her, her eyes shining with expectation, he hesitated. Anna was everything that should be perfect – beautiful, charming, captivating. But at the same time, she was a constant reminder of everything he was destroying.
“You came…” Her voice carried a softness that should have calmed him, but only increased the guilt that consumed him.
“I shouldn’t have,” he murmured, but still sat down next to her. The words were true, but his presence there made them empty.
Anna smiled, as if she hadn’t heard or as if she believed he didn’t mean it. Her hands touched his, soft, hesitant, but not rejecting. He should push her away. But he didn’t. The silence between them was heavy, each moment of stillness stretching the tension to the limit.
Then Anna moved closer. Her fingers slid over Alexei’s face, her eyes searching for something in his—a permission, perhaps, or a reciprocity she already believed was there. When her lips touched his, for an instant, Alexei gave in. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Every lingering touch, every lingering look, every time he’d allowed her to come closer—it had all been pointing to this moment. And now that he was here, how could she back away?
The kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as if they were both trying to erase doubts and insecurities in the heat of the moment. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as his thoughts tangled in a confusing whirlwind. This was what he wanted. This was what he was supposed to want.
But then her hands began to unbutton his shirt, and something inside him stopped. These weren’t the hands he wanted. These weren’t the kisses he wanted. The realization hit him like a blow, crushing any illusion he’d been trying to nurture.
“Anna, no.” He held her hands, firmly but not harshly. The surprise in her eyes hurt more than he expected.
“Alexei…? What is it?” Her voice was confused, almost a whisper, as if she were trying to comprehend a rupture she hadn’t anticipated.
He was slow, an abrupt movement that left him standing, while she was still kneeling on the blanket.
“I’m so sorry.” The words came out quickly, but they sounded insufficient, empty in the face of what he knew they had for her. “I can’t go through with this, Anna. I can’t.”
“Why? Isn’t this what you want?” Her question was sharp, but there was pain in her voice, a vulnerability he couldn’t bear.
He ran his hand over his face, his fingers pressed against his temples as if to stave off the internal conflict tearing him apart.
“I thought it was. But I was wrong.”
“Wrong?” Her disbelief was palpable. “Are you telling me that this… us… doesn’t mean anything?”
“Anna, I don’t know what this means. I just know that… I can’t do this to her. Not anymore.”
She found herself gasping, as if the words had been a physical blow. Alexei knew he had hurt her, but there was no other way.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice low, barely audible.
He turned away from her before he could change his mind, each step back onto the trail feeling like an act of self-punishment. Your face, the pain in your eyes, the frustration and anger—all of it following him, like a ghost he knew he would carry with him forever.
On the way home, the silence of the forest seemed to mock him. Each decision, each choice took him further away from the peace he so desired. But one thing was clear: he needed to renew what was left.
When he finally saw the house, the familiarity of the sight hit him hard. Inside, you were there—the woman he swore to protect, to care for, to love. The woman he hurt every day with his absences, his lies, his indecision.
Alexei walked into the house, feeling the weight of each step. Something was wrong. The lack of noise, the way none of the servants looked directly at him, as if they were afraid that any word or gesture might ignite a flame they could not control.
“What’s going on?” His voice was firm, but with an urgency he could not disguise.
The servants hesitated, but it was the housekeeper who finally answered, her voice low and careful: “It’s your wife, sir… She… The doctor is with her now.”
Before she could finish, Alexei was already climbing the stairs, his heart racing in his chest. Each second seemed like an eternity, the echo of his footsteps amplifying the fear that was growing in his mind.
When he reached the bedroom, he stopped in the doorway, his body tense. The doctor was talking in whispers to the housekeeper, gesturing discreetly. The scene before him was a nightmare. You were lying in bed, the sheets disheveled around your pale body. Your fragility was a cruel blow – a vibrant, lively woman seemed broken, almost unrecognizable.
“What happened?” He was elegant, his voice sharp, almost desperate.
The doctor turned to him, straightening his jacket before answering.
“Your wife had a serious scare. There was some bleeding, but fortunately the baby is fine.”
The doctor’s words hung in the air, and Alexei felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. A baby. He blinked in disbelief as the weight of the information descended upon him. What had once been a distant murmur was now a deafening scream in his mind. You were pregnant. You were pregnant, and he didn’t know it.
Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Your sudden improvement a few days ago, the way the laughter had slowly returned to your voice, how you seemed lighter, almost radiant. And he… He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t paid attention to the little signs.
Alexei raised a trembling hand to his forehead, unable to shake off the whirlwind of thoughts. How could he have been so blind? He, who should have known your better than anyone, had failed to notice something so significant, something that should have been shared and celebrated by both of them.
He didn’t need to ask why he hadn’t been called sooner. He knew the answer. He knew exactly where he was. He knew exactly who he was with. Guilt hit him like a blow, stealing his breath. There were no excuses, only the knowledge that he had failed you—again.
When he finally managed to take a few hesitant steps toward the bed, his eyes fixed on your belly, where his seed grew, protected but barely lost. His chest tightened, an almost unbearable knot. Here was something he hadn’t even known he had, and it had almost been ripped from him without him having the fight to keep it.
“Alexei…” Your weak voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he knelt beside the bed, holding your hand with a gentleness that seemed to contradict the storm raging inside him.
Your eyes were half-closed, the lids heavy with exhaustion, but there was a glint of pain he couldn’t bear.
“I’m so sorry…” Your voice shook, each word filled with overwhelming guilt. “I failed you. With… with the baby.”
He shook his head, his fingers squeezing your lightly, as if he wanted to push the pain away with his touch.
“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”
But he knew whose fault it was. Not yours, never yours. Every bit of blame, every mistake and omission was his. Alexei looked down at your belly again, unable to contain the tightness in his throat.
“You’re safe now. And the baby too. I’m here.” He tried to sound firm, but his voice was a broken whisper.
You closed your eyes again, exhaustion overcoming you, but not before a single tear ran down the side of your face. Alexei watched you in silence, his heart torn by the fragility you showed.
Natalia, standing near the door, took a small step forward, hesitant but determined to speak. “She called for you.”
Alexei turned his face to her, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
“What?”
“As she cried, in despair. She called out to you.”
The words pierced him like blades. He looked away, feeling the weight of her absence crush him even more. How many times had you called out to him? How many times had he not been there when you needed him?
He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against your hand, his eyes closed in a mixture of relief and despair.
“Never again,” he whispered, the promise escaping his lips like a prayer. “Never again will you call out to me and not answer.”
And as the night deepened around them, Alexei stood there, beside your, in silence. For the first time in a long time, he felt that the silence was more deafening than any storm.
The days that followed were an exhausting mix of silence and tension. Alexei seemed like a man possessed by an almost desperate determination, willing to do anything to ensure his wife’s well-being. He had the finest dishes the chef could prepare brought to you, even if you barely touched them. He hired musicians to play softly in the garden, hoping the music would help ease your paleness. He brought expensive fabrics, delicate jewelry, perfumes from faraway lands.
The mornings were always filled with Alexei at your side, urging her to eat another spoonful, to take a few steps into the room. When afternoon fell, he would have your sit by the window, the view of the garden filling the space where words failed between them.
But nothing seemed to work.
You didn’t push him away. You didn’t refuse his care. But the distance between you grew every day, a chasm that Alexei didn’t know how to cross. He could feel it in the stiffness of your shoulders when he entered the room, in the gaze that hadn’t met his for a long time.
And then came the blow he hadn’t expected.
You knew.
He realized the moment your gaze finally met his, charged with something he had never seen before. It wasn’t anger, but something worse. It was the stillness of someone who was too hurt to confront, the resignation of someone who had lost something that could not be recovered.
He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“You were with her.” Your voice cut through the air like a thread of ice.
Alexei froze. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to make up an excuse, anything. But the lies stuck in his throat like a tight rope, because deep down, he knew that you deserved more than your lies.
“I… I didn’t want it to be like this,” he murmured, his voice so low it sounded like a lost echo.
You laughed, a bitter sound he’d never heard come from your lips.
“I didn’t want it to be like this? Then how should it be, Alexei?”
His name on your lips was like a slap. There was no affection, only the cold formality of someone who’s given up the fight.
“I didn’t know about the baby,” he said, his voice shaking. “If I had known… if I had known…”
You interrupted him with a weak gesture of your hand.
“And would it have made a difference? Would you have stayed by my side? Or would I have been just another responsibility to balance between your escapades?”
Alexei fell to his knees beside the bed, his eyes pleading. He wanted to say yes, that everything would have been different, that he would have chosen you and his son above all else. But the words wouldn’t come, because he knew he couldn’t erase her—Anna—from his mind with mere promises.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he finally said, his hands shaking as they held yours.
You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears.
“But you did. And now I don’t know how to fix it, Alexei. I don’t know if it’s possible.”
Silence fell between you again, heavy as a stone. Alexei lowered his head, his breathing ragged.
“I want to try,” he whispered. “For you. For the baby. For us.”
You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to slide silently down your face. You didn’t answer, and Alexei felt his heart break a little more. He released you slowly, feeling as if you were slipping through his fingers, a fragile rope fraying under the weight of your own mistakes.
As he left the room, Alexei stopped when he heard Natalia whisper to another servant:
“They try to protect her from everything, but what is really destroying the lady of the house is here inside.”
The weight of the words hit him like a blow. He knew that it was not only her body that needed rest, but her heart that he had broken.
And for the first time, Alexei had to face the possibility that there might be no way to mend what he himself had destroyed.
The distance between you became more palpable every day. Alexei felt it in your gestures, in the way you looked away when he entered the room, in the short words that left a cold space where there had once been warmth.
He knew he had no right to demand anything, much less forgiveness. But despair was a hungry animal that consumed him, tearing away pieces of his sanity with every blank look you threw in his direction.
When you announced that you were changing rooms, he froze. Since the wedding, there had not been a single night in which you had slept apart.
“Is this necessary?” he heard himself ask, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if your answer could crush him.
You just nodded, without even looking up at him.
That night, Alexei wandered the house like a lost soul. Sitting in the darkness of the empty room, he stared at the bed where you should have been, your absence an oppressive presence that stole the air from his lungs. He didn’t know what to do, how to bear it. The bed seemed bigger, the room colder, the silence deafening.
And then he saw you. The next morning, as he walked down the hallway to his new room, the door was ajar. Alexei stopped. He didn’t want to invade that space that was no longer his, but something compelled him to look.
You were sitting by the window, the sunlight gently touching your face. One of your hands rested on your belly, and there was a smile on your lips. A smile he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“My little miracle…” you murmured, your voice soft, as if you were talking to the baby you were carrying.
Alexei felt his heart tighten. He should have been by your side, participating in that moment. He wanted to be the one with whom you would share your hopes and dreams for the future. But now, he was just a spectator from afar, like a stranger looking through the window of a life that was no longer yours.
He didn’t dare interrupt. He stayed there, quiet, until you slowly got up, supported by Natalia, and disappeared into the room.
The days dragged on. He dedicated every moment to trying to win back something, anything, but you remained distant. He no longer saw the warmth in your eyes, only an icy formality, a barrier he didn't know how to cross.
Sometimes, he heard you talking to the baby. Little promises, loving words that made his heart ache. He wanted to kneel right there and beg for a chance, for a moment of grace. He wanted to tell you that he didn't know how he had lost so much. That now he saw.
Because now he saw.
He saw in the expressions of the servants who passed by him, the veiled judgment in each furtive glance. He saw in his own eyes when he looked at himself in the mirror, the emptiness that had taken over his face. For the first time, he saw himself outside the lens of fascination that had blinded him, outside the lies he had told to justify his actions.
But none of that seemed enough to fix what he had broken.
At night, when he lay in his empty bed, the darkness seemed to weigh on him. He wondered if you thought of him as he thought of you. If, when you caressed his belly, you imagined him as the father of that child, or if he was already a specter in your memory. And he knew that, no matter how hard he tried, your forgiveness was not something he could demand. It was something you would give, or not, and he would have to accept it. But the waiting, the silence, the distance, were a hell he didn't know how to bear.
That night, he sat in the empty room and whispered to the darkness: "Forgive me. Please… forgive me."
But the only answer was silence.
A few more days passed. The mansion, with its spacious halls and impeccably silent corridors, seemed smaller, more suffocating. Still, you kept trying. The weather, the garden, the cold breeze that announced the arrival of a new season — everything was an effort on her part to find some balance, to not let herself succumb to chaos again.
Your belly, although still discreet, was already the center of everything. The servants avoided talking more than necessary, moving carefully around you, as if each word could be another weight on your shoulders. But you were tired. Not of living, perhaps, but of suffering for him.
The walk in the garden came as an unexpected relief. The flowers were still resisting the beginning of autumn, and the wind, although cold, did not seem merciless. There, for a few minutes, your thoughts about Alexei gave way to a momentary peace.
But the calm never lasted long.
That same afternoon, while you were strolling through the streets, something caught your attention. It was a small shop with modest windows, where baby clothes were carefully displayed. You hesitated, but ended up going in.
Inside, the soft colors and soft fabric of the clothes seemed to scream promises of a better future. Your fingers touched a specific piece — a light blue jumpsuit with small, delicate embroidery. He looked so small, so fragile, that for a moment you closed your eyes and allowed the image of a baby to fill your mind.
A boy, you thought. He would have eyes like Alexei’s. And the smile too, that smile that once brightened your days.
The thought came without warning, but it brought a wave of mixed emotions. You didn’t know what it meant—this longing, this inevitable connection between the baby and the man who had broken your heart. But the tightness in your chest was real.
You bought the onesie. When you left the store, the fabric still in your hands, you realized you were shaking.
On the way back home, your steps seemed slower, as if they carried the weight of everything that had been unsaid, of everything that still hurt. The idea of ​​a new beginning, something that had once been a promise for you and Alexei, now seemed uncertain. How could you possibly rebuild something with so many pieces around it?
But as you held that piece of clothing, too small to imagine a body inside it, a silent truth began to take shape. No matter what happened to you and Alexei, that baby was real. He was the hope in the midst of chaos, even if you didn’t yet know how to fully grasp it.
And deep down, even without wanting to, you knew. Part of you still wished things were different, that he was different. That the warmth would return to your eyes, that he would be the father you imagined when you held the onesie in your hands.
The days passed with an unbearable slowness for Alexei. He tried desperately to find ways to get closer to you, but all his attempts seemed to be lost in the void. Dinner that night, the first you would share in weeks, seemed like a small miracle to him. The table was set, the delicate aroma of carefully prepared dishes filled the room, but the euphoria in your chest soon gave way to an anxiety that was hard to ignore.
You were serious, but not hostile. There were no more tears, nor any looks filled with pain. There was a calm that, for Alexei, was even more frightening.
The meal passed with little more than the sound of silverware, and he struggled to create some dialogue, anything that could fill the silence. But then you spoke, and your words shattered the faint hope he had.
“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your voice low but firm, as your eyes remained fixed on your plate. “I think it would be better for everyone if I moved to another house.”
Alexei froze. The knife slipped from his hand and hit the plate with a loud clang that echoed through the room. He looked at you, confused, as if he couldn’t have heard you correctly.
“What?” he barely managed to whisper, his voice hoarse and incredulous.
You didn’t look away, even as you felt your chest tighten at the look on his face.
“It’s not uncommon. Lots of ladies do it,” you continued, your tone almost clinical, as if you were explaining something obvious. “It’s a practical solution. I would be fine, and you could have your life… with whoever you want.”
The words were like knives, stabbing one by one into his heart. He shook his head slowly, as if denying the reality you were proposing.
“No…” Alexei murmured, standing up from his chair with an abrupt movement. He approached you, almost tripping over his own feet, his voice louder now, more desperate. “Don’t say that, please. Don’t do that.”
But you remained where you were, looking at him with an expression that seemed both hard and fragile.
“It’s not fair, Alexei. You could… keep seeing Anna, without having to worry about me.”
He interrupted before you could say more, urgency brimming with each word: “There is no more Anna.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
You blinked, disbelief evident in your eyes. Alexei took a step forward, as if he needed to close the physical distance to reach you somehow.
“It’s over. I… I broke up with her. There’s nothing between us anymore, I swear.”
Your expression remained firm, but he saw the doubt in your eyes, the hesitation.
“Why would I believe you now?” Your voice shook, but you kept your tone controlled.
He took a deep breath, running a hand over his face, the gesture of an exhausted and defenseless man.
“Because I couldn’t go on, not after…” He hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “Not after realizing what I was risking. What I almost lost.”
Alexei knelt in front of you, his hands gripping yours with desperate strength, as if the mere contact could stop you from pulling away any further.
“I was a fool, a complete idiot, and I know that… that my apologies may not mean anything now. But please, believe me. There is no one else. Just you. Just you and…” He looked down at your belly, his gaze softening for a moment, before returning to your face, so full of hurt. “And our son.”
You wanted to believe him. A part of you screamed to accept those words, to allow the pain to be replaced by something sweeter. But there were wounds that were still raw, and the fear of getting hurt again was too great.
“Alexei… I…” You began, but the words died on your lips.
He felt the wall between you, knew that his words, as sincere as they were, might not be enough.
“Please, don’t go.” He spoke again, his tone lower, almost a whisper. “I know I have no right to ask this, but I… I don’t know how to live without you.”
The weight of his declaration hung between you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. But you looked away, unable to bear the intensity in his eyes.
And yet, even when your hands released his, he didn’t pull away. He remained there, kneeling, caught between guilt and hope, waiting for a miracle that might never come.
The weeks that followed were a slow unraveling of us. The distance between you two still existed, but it was no longer an unbridgeable chasm. There were shared glances that lasted a little longer, less charged silences, gestures that seemed to seek something beyond the surface. And although fear still inhabited your chest, you didn’t leave.
That afternoon, the room was silent, the discreet sound of the fireplace being your only companion as you read. Alexei was there too, sitting in a nearby armchair with a book that seemed more like a disguise than something he was actually reading. He kept stealing glances at you, as if he was afraid of missing some detail of your expression.
Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and almost hesitant: “Can I… can I touch your belly?”
The question hung in the air, and you looked up from your book, meeting his. For a moment, Alexei almost regretted asking it, afraid that you would refuse. But to his surprise, you nodded slightly, a shy but genuine permission.
He approached you slowly, kneeling beside you as if each movement were a silent prayer. When his hand finally rested on the soft fabric covering your belly, it was with an almost reverent delicacy. He held his hand there, still, as if afraid that a bolder gesture might break the moment.
The heat from his palm seemed to pass through your skin, and you watched him as he leaned in slightly, his eyes shining in a way that made your heart clench. He was smiling, a soft but genuine smile, so full of happiness that it was impossible to ignore.
“He’s… still so young,” Alexei murmured, almost to himself, his voice choked with emotion.
You just nodded, unable to answer. Something inside you broke at that moment, and tears began to sting your eyes. It was impossible to reconcile the man in front of you, so vulnerable, so in love with something that was still just a promise of life, with the same man who had broken your heart.
He looked up at you, and for an instant, the connection between you was so strong that it seemed like nothing else existed. But the pain was still there, mixed with the tenderness of that moment.
“Alexei…” Your voice broke a little, and it took you a moment to gather your courage. “Tell me about her. About Anna.”
He froze, the happiness on his face replaced by an almost palpable hesitation.
“I don’t know if…” he began, but you interrupted him, your voice firmer now.
“Please. I need to know.”
Alexei took a deep breath, the weight of the confession weighing on him. Finally, he pulled away a little, sitting next to you on the couch, but keeping his hand on your belly as if it were his anchor.
“The rumors…” He began, choosing his words carefully. “They say we were in love. That there was… something between us. But that’s not true.”
You remained silent, allowing him to continue, although you felt your chest tighten with tension.
“There was never a night of love. There was never anything physical.” He shook his head, his eyes locked on yours. “I was foolish, I was blind. I fell for her… for an idea of ​​her, maybe. It was like… something I couldn’t have, and it made me want her even more.”
Alexei paused, his fingers lightly touching your belly, as if the gesture gave him the strength to continue.
“I wasn’t in love with her. Not really. How could I be? She was… an empty dream, a distraction. I was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. And by the time I did, I had already hurt you.”
You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to finally escape, running silently down your cheeks. He leaned in slightly, his free hand hovering in the air as if he wanted to wipe them away, but didn’t dare.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice was a whisper, filled with regret. “If I could go back, I would change everything. But now, all I can do is ask… ask that one day you forgive me.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but there was something different about it. It was no longer the oppressive emptiness of before, but something more… full of possibilities. And although you still didn’t have answers for everything, in that moment, you allowed it to stay.
Because, maybe, this was a start.
The days began to pass differently. The void that had seemed insurmountable between the two of you was now slowly being filled, not with the certainties that had once existed, but with something new. Alexei was present in a way he hadn’t been before, and every gesture, no matter how small, seemed to carry a greater meaning.
He was no longer just the husband you knew, but a man who seemed to strive to be worthy of any space in your life again. There were flowers left on your dressing table, always your favorites, though he never gave them to you directly. There were short notes with kind words placed next to your tea. Little things that you began to notice and eventually treasure.
The visits from the ladies close to you also contributed to this new rhythm. When they arrived, they brought with them not only laughter and pleasant conversation, but also a natural curiosity about how you were doing. They were different from the ladies who had come before, full of snide comments and innuendo. These were your friends, the ones who seemed genuinely concerned.
As they drank tea in the sunlit living room, one of them casually commented:
“It’s funny… no one sees Anna around anymore. It seems she’s gone back to her life, with her husband, as if nothing had happened.”
The remark made the room go silent for a moment, and you felt your heart sink, but you forced yourself to maintain your composure.
“Maybe it’s for the best for her.” Your answer was calm, almost rehearsed, as you sipped your tea.
“No doubt.” Another lady agreed. “After all, it was all so… scandalous. But it’s good that things are getting back to normal.”
The subject changed quickly, but the words stayed with you, a reminder of something that still weighed on you, even when you wanted to let it go.
Alexei kept trying, and each day seemed like a new opportunity for him to show you that he was there for you. One morning, while you were tending the flowers in the garden, he appeared, shy as someone who fears rejection.
“Can I help you?” The question was simple, but the tone begged for a yes.
You hesitated for a moment before handing him the pruning shears, allowing him to join you. The minutes that followed were calm, with him working beside you in silence, until, at some point, he began to speak.
“I know that nothing I do can erase what happened. But I want you to know… I will never do anything like that again.”
You paused, watching him as he continued, his voice full of sincerity:
“I will never let anything or anyone hurt you like that because of me again. I promise, with everything I am.”
His words touched something inside you, but it was hard to know if they were enough. Still, you didn’t pull your hand away when he lightly touched yours.
The nights changed too. Although you still slept in separate rooms, there were times when he would stay by your side for longer, talking quietly about the future, about the baby. He asked questions, listened carefully to your answers, and his eyes shone in a way that made something in your chest tighten.
“I want to be here. I want to be the father our son deserves.” He said one night, and there was sincerity in every word.
It was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that, with a vulnerability you had never seen before. And even though the fear was still there, you began to let it in again, little by little, like sunlight filtering through the cracks in a curtain.
Things were still not the same. Maybe they never would be. But for the first time, you began to believe that they could be something new.
The night was quiet, the silence filled only by the sound of Alexei’s voice as he read softly, careful not to disturb the peace of the moment. He was sitting in the armchair next to your bed, holding the book with steady hands, but his eyes often strayed to you, searching for signs of fatigue or, perhaps, some trace that your presence was more than just tolerated.
You were lying on your side, your eyes closed, but you weren’t sleeping. It was a relief, somehow, to hear something familiar, something that wasn’t accompanied by excuses or explanations. He read with the same passion he always had, the words coming out as if they were his own creation.
Then, when he finished the poem, a comfortable silence settled in.
“I like it when you read to me.” Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but true.
He paused, almost in disbelief, before responding with a small smile.
“I like it even more when I read to you.”
The room felt different that night, enveloped in something that went beyond comfort or closeness. It was as if the two of you were walking together in new territory, built on scarred ground but with real possibilities to flourish.
“Stay.” You murmured, the words spilling out before you could reconsider them.
Alexei’s gaze froze the moment he heard them, and he thought for a moment that he had imagined it.
“What?”
You opened your eyes, meeting his, and repeated a little more firmly:
“Stay the night.”
There was a second of hesitation, but only because he was trying to control the wave of emotion that threatened to overflow. Alexei nodded slowly, standing up carefully so as not to break the moment. He seemed nervous, almost as if it was the first time he had approached you this way, and maybe, in a way, it was.
He blew out the candle next to the armchair before lying down next to you, as if every movement could scare away the possibility of this moment existing. The bed seemed smaller with the two of you, but he didn’t complain, didn’t move more than necessary.
For a moment, he stayed there, just staring at the ceiling, unsure if you really wanted him to touch you. So when you turned onto your side and he felt your body settle closer, he took a deep breath and finally gathered his courage.
His arm slowly rose, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, until your body was completely fitted against his. Alexei’s breathing was shaky, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.
You didn’t respond, but you shifted slightly, adjusting to his warmth, which was answer enough. The closeness was a balm for Alexei, a kind of redemption he never dared ask for, but yearned for every day.
His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. Not yet. He was too busy memorizing every detail of that moment: the way your hair smelled, the rhythm of your breathing, the feel of your body against his.
“Do you still like me?” Your voice cut through the silence like a barely audible whisper.
Alexei paused, his throat tightening with the force of the question. He leaned in slightly, pressing his lips against the top of your head, the only response he could muster without breaking down completely. “I never stopped.” It was the last thing he said before you finally fell asleep, and he lay awake for a long time after that, holding you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever had—because to him, that’s exactly what you were.
The room was bathed in soft light, filtered through the curtains that danced lightly in the morning breeze. Alexei woke first, his eyes blinking against the brightness as he adjusted to the surroundings. For a moment, he lay still, as if afraid that any movement would undo the scene before him.
You were still asleep, your face relaxed, your breathing slow and even. He let out a sigh, not of exhaustion, but of relief. As hard as the journey here had been, there was something immensely comforting in simply being able to be by your side again.
His hand moved almost on its own, his fingers tracing invisible lines over your skin, from your shoulder to the delicate curve of your arm. He didn’t dare do more than that, afraid of intruding on the moment. But when you sighed in response, still asleep, he let a shy smile appear on his lips.
When your eyes finally opened, Alexei was already there, watching you with an intensity that almost seemed new, but at the same time familiar.
“Good morning.” He murmured, his voice low and a little hoarse from sleep.
You blinked a few times before answering, still adjusting to reality.
“Good morning.”
The soft voice made something in his chest tighten, and for a moment, he wanted to say everything he felt, but didn’t know where to start. So, he opted for something simpler, safer.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes.” You answered, your gaze meeting his. “And you?”
“Better than I deserve.” The confession was out before he could stop himself, and when he realized what he had said, he blushed slightly, looking away for a moment.
You studied him silently, noticing the still faint dark circles under his eyes, the way he looked anxious, but at the same time… content.
“Do you still tolerate me?” He asked, finally gathering the courage, though his voice carried a palpable hesitation.
The question made your heart clench, but you didn’t look away.
“Alexei…” You began, your voice thick with emotion. “It was never about tolerating. I never stopped loving you. That’s why it hurt so much.”
The words hit Alexei with the force of a wave, his breath catching in his throat. It took him a moment to process, but when he finally did, something in his gaze changed. It was a mix of relief, pain, and an emotion he couldn’t name, but it pulled him closer to you.
And then he couldn’t resist.
Your faces were inches apart, and the hesitation disappeared the moment your lips touched. The kiss started out timid, careful, as if you were both testing the waters after so long. But the initial softness gave way to something more intense, more urgent.
Alexei held your face in his hands, as if he needed to anchor you there, next to him. His lips moved with silent desperation, each touch loaded with months of unspoken words, of accumulated pain, of a love that, despite everything, had never disappeared.
You returned it with the same intensity, feeling his heat envelop you like a flame that didn’t burn, but healed. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if the space between you was unbearable.
When you finally pulled away, you were both panting, your faces close, testing the newly rediscovered intimacy. Alexei rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath and his words.
“I love you.” He whispered, his voice thick with vulnerability and conviction. “I always will.”
You didn’t respond with words, but the way your eyes sparkled was answer enough. And when your lips met his again, it felt like a silent promise that this time, things would be different.
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gingerteafairy · 22 days ago
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dedicated to my pookie @blueikky
𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑺, 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑬 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑺 (𝑽𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑲𝒀 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹)
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Your first and last ruin, Alexei Vronsky.
tags n warnings: issues, drama, alcohol, smoke, prejudice, blowjob, virginity, praise and (slightly) degradation kink. word count: 4.6k. masterlist
Gossip. That’s what filled the air at balls like this one in the cold beauty of Saint Petersburg. Outside, winter’s chill wrapped the city, but inside, the warmth of cynical laughter and whispered conversations carried through the grand hall. Tonight, the focus was on the newly arrived wealthy family. New money was always a spectacle in high society, and noblewomen wasted no time trying to marry off their daughters to the richest man in sight.
This was your situation. Your mother clung to your arm, dragging you from one introduction to the next. Most of the men were old, balding, or unappealing. The few who seemed tolerable lost all their charm the moment they spoke, their words dripping with arrogance or lewdness.
“How dreadful,” Betsy muttered, waving an ornate fan as she watched your mother’s relentless efforts to match you with men far too old for you. “It’s embarrassing to witness.”
“New money,” said Countess Vronskaya with a sip of her champagne. “Like dogs trampling our lovely ball. She claims herself a baroness. Such a shame.”
“Rather harsh words for someone so refined, Mother,” Alexei Vronsky interjected smoothly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled lazily from his lips as his striking blue eyes followed the scene, faintly amused yet undeniably intrigued.
“The girl is a victim of a desperate mother with no sense of propriety and lack of decorum,” the Countess replied, her lips thinning in disdain. She exchanged a knowing glance with Betsy. “Come, dear. This place is becoming intolerable.”
The two women swept away, leaving Vronsky behind. His posture was relaxed, yet there was something commanding about the way he carried himself. His friend Golenichev approached, grinning as he held a drink, his gaze settling on you as you waved off another suitor.
“She’s had some decent offers tonight, don’t you think?” Golenichev said, standing straighter as he joined his friend.
Vronsky’s eyes found yours again, his expression unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, taking another drag of his cigarette before letting the smoke escape in a soft exhale. “She’s beautiful,” he said quietly, his voice thoughtful. “It’s tragic, really. She can’t be more than twenty, and yet she’s being offered to these… decrepit creatures. It’s a crime.”
Golenichev chuckled, raising his glass in agreement. “A crime indeed. But what’s to be done? It 's her ruin.”
“Perhaps there is.” Vronsky tapped the cigarette against an ashtray and straightened. “I’ll see to it that she’s spared such a fate and make sure to be her first ruin.” His tone was firm, and without another word, he began walking toward you.
You were staring at the floor, trying to hide your frustration as your mother pulled you toward yet another man. Then she stopped abruptly. You looked up, and your breath caught.
The man standing before you was unlike any you’d seen tonight. His presence was magnetic, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to lock on yours with intent. For once, your mother seemed unsure of herself, nudging you for bow reverence.
“What a small, demure little thing you are.”He chuckles at your small bow, roaming his eyes over your body, taking every inch of you, especially in your breath plumped by the exaggerated neckline your mother made you use. “Adorable, if it's safe to say, baroness.”
“Oh…” Your mother opened her mouth but fumbled for words. “To… to what do we owe this honor, sir…?” she finally managed.
“Vronsky. Count Vronsky. Colonel,” he said smoothly, bowing slightly before taking your hand. He lifted it to his lips, pressing a light, deliberate kiss to your skin.
“Oh… it's… such a pleasure to meet such a high hierarchy… I mean, important man.” She giggled, covering his mouth, nudging you, having you gasping slightly before fixing your posture.
“The pleasure is mine.” he beamed as his eyes burned with a desire and passion you’ve only heard in fantasies. No, it was darker. Hyptozing.
You flushed, your heart racing under his gaze. His voice, deep and confident, seemed to linger in the air. Your mother quickly recovered, rushing to introduce you. “This is my dau—”
“No need,” Vronsky said with a small, knowing smile. “I already know her name.” His attention returned to you. “May I have this dance?”
Your mother answered before you could, her voice eager. “Of course! She would be delighted!” She nudged you forward, leaving you no choice but to step into his waiting arms.
His touch was steady and assured as he led you to the center of the ballroom. The music swelled as the two of you bowed, and then his hand found your waist—not politely at your upper back, but daringly low, just above your hip. The closeness was startling, almost improper, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to step away.
“You’re very quiet, darling,” he said as the two of you began to move, his steps smooth and confident. “You’re naturally reserved, I presume.”
“My mother believes it’s unseemly for a lady to speak unless spoken to,” you replied, your voice clipped as you tried to mask your nerves.
He chuckled softly. “Nonsense,” he said, his blue eyes glittering with amusement. “Tell me—what are you thinking right now?”
You hesitated but decided to answer honestly. “That, of course, you would know my name. My mother has spoken to every man in this room. The pretty, reckless, stupid Baroness.”
He laughed, the sound low and pleasant, loving your adorable annoyance. “I tend to keep my distance. Crowds don’t interest me.” He guided you into a turn, his hand steady on your waist. “Did any of them catch your interest?”
“None who would ask me to dance and dismiss my mother’s rules as nonsense,” you said, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips.
“Fascinating,” he murmured, his tone warm as he pulled you closer. “You’ve caught my attention, if I may be so bold. You’re enchanting.”
Your breath hitched at his words. He was impossibly close now, his hand firm yet gentle on your waist. “That’s very kind of you, Count Vronsky.”
“Alexei,” he corrected. The intimacy of his first name felt daring, and it made your cheeks flush again. His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before he spoke. “Would you do me the honor of a walk? Somewhere quieter for a pleasant talk?"
You hesitated, glancing toward your mother, who was engrossed in conversation across the room. Before you could second-guess yourself, you answered.
“Yes.”
He smiled, offering his arm, and you took it. Together, you stepped away from the crowded ballroom and into the stillness of the castle’s quieter halls, your heart pounding with every step.
Alexei led you through the castle halls, his steps unhurried, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. He spoke occasionally, sharing brief comments about the guests or recounting fragments of the castle's history. His voice carried a quiet intensity, much like the moonlight filtering through the windows, veiled by luxurious, heavy curtains. There was an air of mystery about him—dark yet alluring, cold yet captivating.
He stopped in front of a wide wooden door, resting his hand on the ornate brass handle. With deliberate slowness, he turned the knob and pushed it open, the creak of the hinges echoing softly in the stillness. The pause in his movements, the weight of the moment—it set your nerves alight.
“Ladies first,” he said, his tone smooth and polite as he stepped aside.
You hesitated before walking in, taking in the room’s grandeur. It was no ordinary chamber. It was vast, large enough to house an entire family of peasants. A velvet sofa rested against one wall, paired with matching chairs and a table scattered with loose sheets of paper. Heavy drapes framed tall windows, and the air carried a faint yet pleasant scent of cedar and something floral. But the centerpiece of the room was the bed—a massive structure with carved posts and linens finer than anything you had ever touched.
“Why did you bring me here?” you asked at last, your voice breaking the silence. You didn’t turn to face him, but the soft click of the door closing behind you was enough to remind you of his presence.
“I wanted a quiet place where we could talk,” Alexei said, his footsteps drawing closer before he seated himself on the velvet sofa. He moved with such ease, yet his every action seemed deliberate. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke curl lazily into the air. “To get to know you.”
You swallowed hard, the intimacy of the setting and his relaxed demeanor setting your nerves on edge. You lowered yourself onto the far end of the sofa, maintaining a respectable distance, though your heartbeat betrayed you.
“Tell me,” he began, his voice soft yet probing, “have you ever been in love?”
The question startled you. You frowned, letting out a nervous laugh. “I suppose so. A few times. Silly crushes, nothing serious.”
“Was that what your mother told you?” he asked, leaning just slightly in your direction.
“Probably,” you admitted, shifting in your seat. Despite yourself, you found your body inching closer to his, as though pulled by an invisible force. “In her words, romance is useless unless it serves a purpose. Marriage is a transaction, and a lady should save herself for that.”
“And do you believe that?” he asked, taking another drag from his cigarette. His knee brushed against yours, the contact subtle but charged.
“No.” Your voice was firm, though your gaze drifted to his hand, the urge to reach out and touch it growing stronger with each passing second. “But I’ve never had the courage to try anything different.”
“What is it you’ve never tried?” He leaned closer, his profile sharp as he turned his head to exhale the smoke away from you.
“Romance.”
His lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes searching yours. “And… would you like to try?”
The question lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a silk ribbon, tightening with every heartbeat. It was dangerous, the sort of question that invited you to tread on forbidden ground. Yet there was something intoxicating in the way he spoke, the way he watched you as though he already knew your answer, showing you what you’ve been caging. Desire. Fire, lust, pure sensual desire.
“I believe I would,” you murmured, the words barely audible but enough to draw a soft smile from him.
Alexei shifted closer, closing the gap between you. His breath mingled with yours, carrying the scent of tobacco and something distinctly him—something refined, intoxicating, irresistible. He brought the cigarette to his lips once more, inhaling deeply before leaning forward.
But instead of his lips meeting yours, he exhaled, the smoke brushing against your lips and filling your senses. You inhaled instinctively, closing your eyes, tasting the ghost of him in that moment.
It wasn’t a kiss, not exactly—too timid, too indirect. But it was intimate, electric, and left your heart racing as though it had been. You opened, meeting his gaze.
The faint crackle of the fire in the distant hearth was the only sound, its soft glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. Alexei had moved closer now, his presence overwhelming but not suffocating, his gaze unwavering on yours. There was a storm in his eyes—a mix of restrained desire and something deeper, something dangerous.
When his lips finally met yours, it was gentle at first—tentative, as if asking a question he wasn’t sure you’d answer. But then you responded, your hand instinctively finding its way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as if to anchor yourself.
That was all it took for the restraint to break.
The kiss deepened, his other hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, the cigarette being forgotten on the floor. The warmth of him, the way his lips moved against yours, was unlike anything you’d ever known. He kissed you like he was claiming something, yet still giving—giving you something you hadn’t realized you were starving for.
When you finally parted, both of you were breathless. This is dangerous," you whispered, standing and placing your hands on your hips. Your voice shaky but tinged with a nervous laugh, “We can't be doing this, Alexei. This is wrong.”
He raised, hands reaching for your arms, travelling to your waist. “Does it feel wrong? Or does it feel like something you’ve been told is wrong?” His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still cradling your face as if he were afraid to let go.
Your lips met Alexei's in a deeper kiss, where he took your face in his hands, turning his head to devour you and feel your taste completely, savoring the sweetness on your lips of your previous treats, mixed with the striking nicotine of Alexei with a touch of champagne, as if it mixed with his earthy perfume.
The kiss became more desperate with hands roaming all over your bodies. You shoved him again, turning your back with your hands on your head, noticing once again the dangerous terrain with the wetness between your legs, like rain on a warm day.
"Tell me you don't want me." He hoarses breathy in your ear, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. "Tell me and I'll go away."
“Alexei…” You sighed, your voice sounding like an eager moan as your hands searched for Alexei's curls between your fingers, hanging your head on his shoulder with your eyes closed.
His lips brushed your shoulders softer this time, almost reverent. “Say what you need and i'm pleased to give, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched, his talk striking deeper than you wanted to admit. “Alexei. If anyone knew—”
“Let them know,” he interrupted, kissing your shoulder open-mouthed, his lips taking an old age pace where your neck meets your shoulder. His voice had taken on a quiet intensity, the kind that made your chest tighten as his tongue licked the side of your neck.
“Let them whisper and sneer.” He whispered, his teeth meeting your soft flesh, ghosting till your neck where he inhaled your scent “Leave them wondering how i adore you, every inch of your skin. How I map out your body, the firmness of your flesh, how I'm the cause of your gasps and moans. Leave them realizing you’re living his wildest dreams, melting in my hands.”
His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He poured every ounce of his love, his hand sliding once again to your stomach, snaking to the small of your back.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the fire in his eyes as you felt the lace on your dress loosening softly, the firmness of the unbreathable tie replaced by softness. "Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Once again. You didn’t. You couldn't.
Not when he licked your neck with a gracious soft tongue felt so right, molding your barely exposed curves to the hard planes of his body. His hands release you from the outrageously heavy dress.
“I want to sink myself into your untouched depths, stretching you wide, claiming you utterly…” He muttered, biting your earlobe, delighted at you melting with each word, his desire, touching every piece of skin as he murmured sweet nothings at your ear.
He gently touched your hair, careful not to make a mess with your luxurious hairstyle. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them as he turned you to face him. “I want to make you feel everything, know all the pleasures. Whispering my name in a hoarse voice as you please me with cream.”
His voice was a low, wicked purr, each word dripping with sinful promise and unchecked hunger. He took your hand, licking between your index and middle finger, imitating your folds as he saw you heat at him playing with your imagination. You knew what it was. He loved it. He wanted it.
Alexei’s hand slid lower, palming the rounded globe of your ass, squeezing the firm flesh and pulling you even harder against him.
“Every filthy, depraved, utterly obscene thought that's ever crossed your mind... It's all something I desperately want to make happen.”
Tenderly, he took off the corset watching it slowly rest on the floor. His hands slid to cup the soft weight of your breasts as he guided you to his bed, sitting you with surprising care, holding you for getting comfortable.
He pushed back for a moment, his eyes burning into yours as he quickly shed his own clothes, revealing the hard, toned body beneath.
He stood on the side of the bed and you followed him, sitting on your knees. “You’re mine,” He smiled, holding your chin between his fingers, placing a small kiss on your lips. “Mine to ruin.”
His whisper sends you a shiver down your spine. He pulled away again, putting his hands on the hem of his pants, pulling down his underwear as well, revealing to you the sight of the stranger, who somehow seemed familiar to you.
As if following his desire, your hands went up to your length, exhaling Alexei, not restricting your tongue, insisting on tasting his juice, planting a mouth-opened kiss. He groaned, maintained control with his fingers on your chin, your sweet innocence burning inside him, burning with the clear desire to ruin any trace of it in you. Present you to any pleasure the world denies you.
“Open your mouth, love.” He demanded and you slowly opened, sticking your tongue, obeying your instincts. He cupped your face, pressuring your jaw, seeing you opening even more. “Yeah… that's it. Keep it wide open for me.”
Alexei groaned, his cock at your wet, warm tongue dragged along his aching length, accommodating his veins. The sensation of your soft lips parting, your mouth stretching to engulf his thick, pulsing cock... It was almost enough to make him lose control, to spill himself down your throat, how you submissively struggled on making your moves deeper, comforting him on your walls.
“Keep going, you're doing so well…” his sweet praises echoed with the sound of your cheeks sucking in and the little ‘pops’ when you popped his cock out to lick him, savoring the saltiness just to warm him up again.
He pushed you, making eye contact as he patted his head on your flushed cheeks. A dark chuckle echoed from his lungs as he saw you opening your mouth eager to taste him again.
“You're so adorable… Did you want a cock this much? No wonder your mother hides such a slut. Would be a shame if anyone knows how good this pretty mouth is.” He cooed, pressing your chin down. “Stick your tongue, my cunt.” he ordered, pressing your chin down, patting his tip again when you showed your tongue on your reddened lips. “Yeah… that's it… good girl. Here, take what you want.”
He couldn't help but surrender to your swirling tongue, entertaining his frenulum. He popped out again, smirking just to dig inside again, chuckling with your gasp and hollowing cheeks.
He rocked his hips, grinding his cock against your tongue as he fucked your throat deep, “I'll ruin your mouth so any man could use it again. Just me. Your mouth made for my cock.”
The sight of you, tears streaking down your cheeks, mouth red and swollen from his rough treatment.
“Enough, darling.” He brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away the stray drop of drool that clung there, before pressing the digit past your lips, letting you suck it clean. His other hand slid into your hair, his fingers threading through the silky strands as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his intense, unwavering gaze.
“Did I do a good job?” You beamed, wiping off the remanescente drool off your face with the back of your hand.
“You were perfect, took me very well. Now… Lay down. On your back.” He asked and you obeyed, lying down as he ordered. He crawled on the bed, getting on top.
Alexei’s mouth travelled to your neck, nipping and deposing open-mouthed kisses, tasting you, claiming you, marking you. His own territory. He pushed back slightly, fingers gently wrapped around your throat as he licked the column, lifting to look at your eyes, leaving them as he arrived at your sternum, inhaling you.
“Such a magnificent smell.” He exhaled, inhaling sonorous, his fingers digged on your waist possessively. 
His head drove to the side, catching your nipples with his teeth gently, while his thumb teased the other one, turning, pinching, palming your breast and filling your hardened skin sticking on his hand, breathy purrs of yours could be heard on his timpani. 
He slid down in brief kisses to your undergarments. You plopped on your shoulders, watching him catch the hem of your underwear, tugging down with his teeth in one swift erogenous motion, letting them fall to the floor. 
“Alexei…” you mumbled dizzy, tortured by his tortuous rhythm. 
“Yes, my lady?” He teased, as he didn't know how you were on the edge of madness. He wanted you begging, but he was patient enough to wait for it, even if his cock ached for relief. “Tell me what you want.” 
“I want you.” You finally admitted, gazing into his lustful eyes that looked through his delicate lashes. “I want you, Alexei. I can't take it anymore."
“As you wish, my love.” He whispered before his lips searched yours in a bruising kiss, massaging your tongues together simultaneously to his teeth pushing your bottom lip, nipping and coming back for loving tongue. 
Alexei's hands drove down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pushed your legs up and out, forcing your knees upon your chest, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, your dripping sex begging for his cock to explore your walls. 
He pulled his hip down, your hole hugging his tip, getting used quickly to the new addicting sensation. He could smell the sweet scent of your desire, your flushed thighs shivering with anticipation mixed with the cold air of the night. Your cunt trying to suck him hungry. He heard it's calling, burying him completely with the symphony of your moan and his grunt. 
“God, you feel amazing.” he rasped light headed, sensing your channel tightening his length. 
His fingers drove out to your swollen clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub in tender circles, the calloused pad of his finger teasing until your hips bucked beneath him.
“Alexei…” you moan, digging your nails on his flushed shoulders, drawing a red path to his back where you scratch to his swaying moving. 
“Fuck, you take me so well, my darling.” He groaned, setting a pace as he kept eye contact with your foreheads together, shutting his eyes when he pursued your lips to a taunt kiss, hooking one of your legs around his waist. 
“Alexei… Alexei… fuck.” You mewl his name like a song, humming on each time his tip rocked on your sweet spot back and forth. 
“Is it good when I touch you here?” He left your lips, biting your jaw as he pulled your hair, swaying his hips harder and deeper. 
Suddenly, he pulled back, your blissed cunt feeling the void as you watched him sit on the bed and light a cigarette found on his trousers. He looked down at you, raising an eyebrow as he dragged in. “What are you waiting for? Sit.” 
"What?" you gasped, heavy from the pleasure you had gotten while sitting next to him.
“I think i was clear, but i’ll open an exception for your pretty pout.” Vronsky chuckled, leaning closer to your ear, cupping your face, thumb pressing your jaw as he ghosted his lips on your cheek. "I said sit. Sit so i can drink you with my eyes while your tits jump and you cream me like a good girl.”
You gasped, your face being released with soft brutality as you stared at him, your gaze going to his cock soaked in your lube "i don't know how to do this... i barely know how..."
"Shhh..." he shushed, taking your face into his calloused hand again, pulling your bottom lip with his index finger. "Obey. Sit.”
You swallow hard, obeying the order without blinking. Your legs work to spread out on Alexei's lap as he takes a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling onto your face, your tears mixed with smoke.
"God, you're perfect.” he breathes, inhaling with his head on the wall as you sink down on him awkwardly, finally taking his full length in a sloppy unadjusted thrust of you. “Yeah… good girl. Fuck yourself on my cock to get what you want. Don't make me ask twice.”
You moaned at his dirty talk, starting a slow and uncoordinated movement that made your legs ache, but that felt incredibly delicious on your core. Up and down, back and forth, exploring the new nature. 
“Good…” he whispered, panting, his gaze at your cunt sucking him well. “You’re a natural. Faster."
Your eyes caught Alexei's furrowed brows as he took another drag, each time more awkwardly as the pleasure grew in his spine. 
He moved closer to you, exhaling smoke near your mouth as you inhaled again, but it wasn't the nicotine that was addicting you. It was how Alexei commanded without needing to touch, it was like your body knew exactly what he wanted.
You felt your heart race, the oxygen seeming to dissipate in the air suddenly as your sex demanded more. Vronsky noticed. His skilled fingers rubbing your clit. "That 's it. Cum on my cock. Cream it. Use me for your pleasure, love.”
“Alexei… fuck… I'm” You couldn't even speak, your body automatically throwing itself at Alexei who held you, dropping the cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed to hold you while you sought your own orgasm in him, his warm lips on yours again.
"You are the embodiment of sex, darling. My nymph. My muse. Fuck, you are delicious, melt into me." He stimulated you, encouraging your ecstasy, your eyes pressed shut as your mouth opened in a final sigh, your pleasure being released into Alexei. 
He took in your scent, your taste, your juice, wanting his pores to absorb every cell of yours released by your peak. The world seemed to dissolve, your mind blank as Alexei fucked himself into you, his ankles on the mattress to help with the thrusts as he digged inside, yours tits bouncing as you purred and whimpered. With a last harsh sway, his cock spurted his seed on your womb, rocking his hips til the last drop. 
Breathing heavily, you pulled away briefly to look into Alexei's delighted eyes, his blonde locks plastered to his forehead, his hands coming to your face in a generous caress, gently kissing your lips.
"Ravishing..." he whispered, taking in every detail of your sweaty face. "I wish to present myself to your mother as a suitor. I do not intend to let any other man touch my sweet little thing.”
Your eyes watered at the talking, your hands placed on your mouth to hide your surprise. “Alexei… Alexei, is it real? What made you change your mind?’
“Nothing.” He simply replied, smiling at your emotionally amused reaction, his own heart giggling at the moment. “You’re mine now, you’ll wear sapphires in the morning and blue diamonds at night, so everyone knows you’re my woman. you will be elevated to the position you deserve. High. Adored. A muse. Come on, get ready. We have an announcement to make.”
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eefos · 2 months ago
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Aaron attending the photocall of Kraven the Hunter in London. 21.11.2024
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aestheeredie · 7 months ago
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Comfort in your arms
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➳ 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐕𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೄྀ
➳ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 ೄྀ
➳ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟑𝟓 ೄྀ
➳ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲. ೄྀ
➳ 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! ೄྀ
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The front door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of Alexei's footsteps entering the house. It had been a long day for him, filled with the demands of his duties and the endless parade of high-society obligations. You sensed his weariness even before you saw him.
You were lying on your bed, reading a book to pass the time, when you heard his footsteps approaching. The door to your bedroom swung open, and there he was—Alexei, your beloved. His blond curls were slightly disheveled, and his blue eyes looked heavy with fatigue. The sight tugged at your heart.
Without a word, he started to shed his formal attire. His jacket was the first to go, followed by his cravat and waistcoat. He left on just his shirt and trousers as he made his way to you, his movements slow and tired. You closed your book, setting it aside, and opened your arms to him.
Alexei didn't hesitate. He climbed onto the bed, lying down and resting his head on your chest. You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing as he settled against you, his breath warm against your skin. He let out a deep, contented sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.
You gently wrapped your arms around him, feeling the solid weight of his body pressing against yours. His proximity, the warmth of him, was a comfort you had come to cherish.
He looked up at you, his tired blue eyes meeting yours. "Please." he murmured, his voice soft and pleading. He gently grabbed your hand and placed it on top of his head.
Your heart melted at his silent request. You began to run your fingers through his blond curls, feeling the soft strands slide between your fingers. Alexei closed his eyes again, a small, contented smile forming on his lips.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I needed this."
You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He nestled closer, his head rising and falling with each breath you took. The day's exhaustion seemed to melt away from him, replaced by a serene calm.
"I'm always here for you, Alexei," you said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You can always find rest in my arms."
He sighed again, this time a sound of utter contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "You are my anchor, my solace."
Your heart swelled with love for him. Your fingers never stopping their soothing motion through his hair.
As he lay there, resting his head on your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace. The world outside might be chaotic and demanding, but in this moment, in each other's arms, everything was perfect. Alexei's breathing grew steady and slow, and you knew he was drifting into a much-needed sleep.
You continued to card your fingers through his hair, a gentle smile on your lips. You watched over him, your love for him deeper than words could ever express. And as he slept, you knew that this was where he belonged—safe, loved, and cherished in your embrace.
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simp4eshal · 10 months ago
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Ballroom
Count Vronsky x poc!reader/OC(Arabella Von Jaga) (but she's mostly reader i just felt more comfortable giving her a name)
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warnings: obsessive behavior, angst ??, smut, yearning, fluff, lemme know if i forgot something
In the dimly lit study of his opulent manor, Count Vronsky paced restlessly. His eyes burned with an intensity that betrayed his turmoil of emotions. It had been months since he had last laid eyes on her, months of sleepless nights and restless days spent yearning for the touch of her skin, the taste of her lips. His heart ached with a longing so powerful it threatened to consume him whole. She was his obsession, his raison d'être, and he would stop at nothing to make her his. Her name was Arabella, and she was the only thing that mattered in his world.
He paused before a large mirror, running his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to tame the wild beast that had taken over his appearance. His once-handsome face now bore the telltale signs of his all-consuming passion: dark circles ringed his eyes, his skin was pale and sallow, and his muscles were taut with unspent energy. Even his once-elegant attire seemed to reflect his inner turmoil, wrinkled and askew.
He could no longer deny it; he was losing his grip on reality. His thoughts were consumed with her, and his actions had become increasingly desperate. He had tried to fill the void with other women, but it was futile. They were but pale imitations of the one he truly loved. Arabella was his sun, his moon, his stars, and without her, he was nothing but a shadow of his former self.
Determined to take matters into his own hands, Vronsky gathered his most trusted servants and issued a decree. He would hold a grand ball in her honor, an extravaganza the likes of which the kingdom had never seen. The invitations were to be sent out far and wide, to every corner of the land, inviting everyone who was anyone to attend. The catch was that the ball would be by invitation only, and the only invitation that truly mattered would be in Arabella's hands.
For weeks, Vronsky's servants worked tirelessly to prepare the manor for the event, transforming it into a veritable wonderland of opulence and excess. Intricate tapestries hung from the ceilings, gleaming chandeliers cast their warm light across polished marble floors, and towering floral arrangements adorned every available surface. A full orchestra was hired to play throughout the night, their haunting melodies weaving in and out of the revelry.
As the appointed day finally dawned, Vronsky paced anxiously before the grand entrance, his heart hammering in his chest. He had spared no expense, had left no stone unturned, and yet he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't enough. He longed for her to be there, to see the depth of his devotion, to feel the weight of his obsession.
Dusk fell, and the first guests began to arrive, their opulent attire casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the ballroom. Ladies in shimmering gowns and gentlemen in finely tailored suits mingled amidst the fountains of champagne, their laughter and conversation filling the air. The orchestra played on, the music swirling around them like a living thing, weaving a seductive spell that enraptured everyone within earshot.
Vrronsky paced restlessly, his gaze darting about the room, searching for any sign of her. His heart felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise, the anticipation almost unbearable. He had invited every eligible bachelor and bachelorette in the kingdom, hoping that one of them might know where she was, might have heard a rumor or seen her somewhere. But so far, there was no sign of her.
Hours passed, and the ball reached its zenith. The guests, their appetites whetted by the endless feast and flowing champagne, had begun to let loose, dancing wildly to the orchestra's stirring melodies. Vrronsky, however, could not join in their revelry. His focus remained fixed on the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her.
As midnight approached, he grew desperate. He had to know if she would come, if she would accept his invitation. He spotted a servant hurrying across the ballroom and beckoned him over. The servant, out of breath from running, bowed low. "My lord, a messenger has arrived with a note for you." Vronsky snatched the envelope from the servant's trembling hand, his heart racing. With shaking fingers, he tore it open.
The note was brief, but it was all he needed to hear. In her delicate script, she had accepted his invitation, promising to attend the ball. He read it over and over again, the words losing their meaning as tears of relief and joy streamed down his face. He could feel the weight of his obsession lifting from his shoulders, a lightness in his chest that he hadn't experienced in years.
With renewed vigor, he rejoined the revelry, laughing and dancing with the other guests. He scarcely noticed the envious glances that were directed his way, for he was no longer concerned with the opinions of others. All that mattered was that she was coming, and soon she would be in his arms once more.
As the night wore on, the ball reached its climax. The orchestra struck up a new, haunting melody, and Vronsky could feel a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He glanced at the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. There, framed by the doorway, stood Arabella, resplendent in a gown of shimmering emerald silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, revealing the long, dainty column of her neck. She held a single red rose in one hand, its thorns glinting in the candlelight.
Vronsky's heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and he felt a surge of relief wash over him. She had come. She had accepted his invitation. With a graceful smile, she glided across the ballroom, her eyes never leaving his. As she drew closer, he could see the love and devotion reflected in her gaze, and he knew that she felt it too. They met in the center of the room, and without a word, they began to dance.
The music seemed to fade into the background as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Their hands entwined, their fingers interlaced, and Vronsky felt as though he had found his anchor in the world once more. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and the sensation was intoxicating. She leaned into him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and he could feel her breath hot against his skin.
The other dancers seemed to fade away, leaving them alone in their own private universe. Time itself seemed to lose all meaning as they moved together, lost in the music and in each other. Their every touch was electric, every movement full of promise and passion. They danced until the orchestra had finished its final song, until the ballroom was empty and the candles had all burned down to stubs.
Finally, with a deep sigh, Vronsky lowered Arabella back onto the parquet floor and stepped back, his heart racing. She looked up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the heat of their embrace. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice barely audible above the sound of their labored breathing. "That was... that was perfect."
He smiled down at her, his eyes taking in every detail of her face. Her lips were still slightly parted, her eyes shining with a mix of passion and desire. "I love you," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "You are my world, my reason for living."
Their gazes locked, and for a moment, they stood there, lost in each other. Then, slowly, Vronsky bent down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration of each other's mouths, before growing more passionate. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and he could feel her respond to his touch, her hips grinding against his.
With a groan, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her across the ballroom and into his private chambers. The candles flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows as he laid her down on the bed. She arched her back as he trailed his fingers down her neck and over her breasts, helpless and full of desire at the same time.
Their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as they tore off each other's clothes. Vronsky kicked off his shoes and shucked out of his trousers, revealing his aroused length. He positioned himself between her legs, feeling her hot, wet folds against his skin. With a growl, he pushed forward, burying himself inside her. She cried out in pleasure, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, driving deep inside her with each thrust.
Her body arched off the bed, meeting his each stroke with a grinding of their hips. Their sweat-slick skin slapped together in a rhythm that grew faster and more frenzied. The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, and the candlelight flickered against the walls, casting shadows that danced across their entwined forms.
As they moved together, lost in the intensity of their passion, Vronsky felt a building pressure deep within him. His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, as he struggled to find release. He felt her body tense beneath him, her muscles clenching tight around him, and with a hoarse cry, she shuddered violently in his arms. Her inner walls gripped him tight, and he felt himself spill inside her, his climax overwhelming him in a wave of pleasure.
He collapsed on top of her, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together, his weight pinning her down. For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, their hearts racing. Then, slowly, Vronsky rolled off of her, their entwined limbs separating with reluctance. He looked down at Arabella, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, and felt a surge of love and possession course through him.
"You are my everything," he murmured, trailing his fingers down her stomach and over her hip. "My reason for living, my reason for breathing. No matter what happens, I will always be yours."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him. "And I will always be yours," she whispered, her voice still husky from their passion. "Forever."
Vronsky felt a shiver of possessiveness run down his spine at her words. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and breathed in the sweet, feminine scent that clung to her skin. "You are mine, and I will never let you go," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "No one else will ever have you."
Their eyes locked, and he could see the heat of desire burning in her gaze. She reached up, tracing a finger down the line of his jaw, her touch sending shivers through his body. "I belong to you, Alexei" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I always have, and I always will."
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voxmortuus · 2 years ago
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✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Count Vronsky x F!Reader!Wife ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Anna Karenina ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 2k ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ This was given to me by the lovely @bettytaylorversion || I would love to request a hc for him in a honeymoon with fem!reader, like pure and utter fluff and romance 🔥💘 ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Passionate Sex | Unprotected P-i-V | Cream pie | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I hope this brings you some joy. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ TIME PASSER DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @voxmortuus ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @peachyspaceslvt ✧*̥˚ ATJ TAGLIST: *̥˚✧ @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧
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It was a beautiful ceremony, everyone who was anyone was there, but now, it was just time for you and your beloved to be alone. To learn and explore each other. To enjoy the company of the one you will be spending the rest of your life with. Today, it was a beautiful day. The air was warm, but not overly hot, there were large fluffy clouds in the crystal blue sky, and the sun was shining bright. Alexei had decided he was going to take you to a private place, a place where no one was going to bother you. A small little country house just outside of town. Well, today Alexei had plans. These plans were special, and you weren't allowed to know these plans. He had vanished outside leaving you to ponder on your thoughts.
You were sitting in the kitchen, you sip on a cup of tea. Your thoughts were simple, yet nothing overly complex, what would your life be like? He had no issue getting your attention, you found him alluring, attractive, intelligent, suave, and charming, and you found him to be a wonderful conversationalist. Sitting there, your mind drifts in a wonderful daydream of how your life will all work out, what will it become? Jumping a moment when he comes back to the house, you look up at him and smile. Reaching for your hand he kisses it softly and looks over your face.
"I have a beautiful day planned. Shall we?" He asked.
Nodding you were eager. You watched him grab the picnic basket on the outside of the door as you headed toward the docking out back of the home. You look at him and tilt your head.
"You really did plan today out? It really is a beautiful day for something like this." You stated softly looking up toward the sky as you got closer to the private dock.
When you both approached it, he stepped into the small boat, placed the basket down, and held his hand up to help you in, to make sure you were getting into the boat safely. The boat swayed and you got a little nervous, but you knew you were safe. Once you had settled looking around, you smiled sweetly, this was going to be an absolutely beautiful day. Placing your hands in your lap you look over his features as he untied the small boat and pushed it away from the dock.
"Are you ready?" He asked.
You nod eagerly and bite your lip, curious as to where he was taking you. This waterway was large, trees draped over it with beautiful pink and white flowers, vibrant green leaves, and swans, everywhere, it was beyond breathtaking. As he rowed the boat, it moved gracefully in the water, the sounds of nature all around you. You can't help but smile.
"This is beyond beautiful." You smile softly.
"Nothing short of the best for you. Would you like to feed them?" He asked.
"Can I?" You ask eagerly.
He reaches into the basket and hands you a bag of bread pieces. "Here love."
Taking the bag you look inside upon opening the bag. You smile wide before tossing some out into the water. The fish below and the swans above move to get what you had tossed. A soft giggle escapes you as you watch them. Turning back to your new husband you smile softly.
"This is absolutely beautiful. I cannot express this enough." you search his face.
Leaning forward he kisses you softly, running a thumb across your lower lip. "You're absolutely beautiful." He smiles.
Flushing softly you glance down before looking back up at him and searching his face. Licking your lips you tilted your head softly. You feel this warm feeling, this warmth of the sun shining through the branches of the trees. It really was out of some sort of fairytale.
"What other plans do you have today?" You asked him.
"Well, how about I go show you." He smiles taking the oars and carefully working his way through the water to the other side of the large lake. You look over him and wonder when he had the time to do this, but he was up far earlier than you were. You smile softly and continue to look around at everything as he works his way through the water and you continue to feed the fish and birds with the crumbles of bread.
When he gets to the other side he moves past you to get out and pull the boat to the shore and helps you out. Looking around it was a meadow-like opening. There were no trails toward the location he was taking you, a small path from the shore to this small opening that was surrounded by flowers of the season, birds chirping, and a soft subtle breeze. It was beautiful, just like everything else. It was a lot to take in but at the same time, it wasn't.
He opens a blanket he pulls from the basket, and paces it on the earth's floor. He looks up to you and holds out his hand for you to take. Biting your lip softly you chuckle and nod joining him on the blanket. Leaning against him you look out on nature and smile. It truly was a vision of your dreams.
He wraps his arms around you and leans in and kisses your neck. "You smell delicious. Is that a new perfume?" he asks you.
"It is. I'm surprised you noticed." You chuckle softly.
"Of course I noticed. I also noticed you are not wearing anything under your dress." He smiled softly.
"Oh, is that so?" You chuckle.
"That is very much so." He smiled as he reaches down and hikes your dress up a bit.
"Are you wanting to do that here?" You ask him.
"Well, why not? There's no one else here, just us… What do you say Mrs. Vronsky?" He smiles looking down at you.
"Well, when you put it that way." You chuckle and turn to look at him you put your arms around him as he moves to have you straddling his lap.
"Oh, you like hearing Mrs. Vronsky don't you?" He chuckles.
Nodding your head you smile and lean in and kiss him sweetly and deeply. He keeps you close as he moves his hands up your back and presses you close to him as he moves to nip at your neck as his lips trail down and he moves to open your dress a bit more so he can kiss your chest. Now and then his gaze looks up as he watches you carefully. Your jaw slacks a bit, feeling his lips on your flesh like that is utterly intoxicating. You bite your lip and let out a soft whimper, your body trembles softly. This feeling made your body feel warm and even a little dewy between the legs.
He grips at you, his hands moving under your dress and sliding it up to move it off of your frame placing it next to you both, your nimble fingers move to undo the buttons of his shirt and slide it off him and place it by your dress. Looking over him you smile, your fingers move against his chest before you move your hands to the back of his neck and slide your hands up into his hair, as he leans into your hands and nails a bit as they scrape against his scalp you move your hips ever so slightly. He looks over at you and smiles.
"I want to be inside you." He whispers against your lips as he kisses you deeply.
"Then be inside me." You whisper back.
Feeling him free himself as his hard flesh presses against the front of you, he rubs the tip of his cock against your opening before he lowers you onto him. You drop your head to rest against this shoulder and let out a soft moan.
"Oh, Alexei." You whimper.
His jaw clenches a moment as you wrap your slick velvet-like walls around his sensitive flesh. Growling a moment as he buries his face into your neck.
"You feel so good.." He tells you.
"You feel good." You state back as he helps guide you over his hard member.
You begin to moan a little more feeling him fill you, feeling yourself stretch around his hard cock as you glide along him. Your head moves to hang back as your hands press into his shoulders as you bounce at a steady pace. His hands wander your form, feeling your flesh under his grip, it was soft, it was moldable. He watched your face, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He looked down at you as you pressed yourself down on him. He liked watching the way it looked, how you took all of him like you were made for him.
Moving you to your back, he looked down at you, your hair fanning out as he leaned forward and began to thrust at a quicker pace, the sounds of you both echoed and rolled off the flower petals. He pressed deeper into you, causing you to moan louder, causing you to grip at his sides, your nails dragging across his back, leaving little red welts of love across his flesh.
Dipping down he captured your lips against his, as he moved to grab your hands enterlacing your fingers with his as he moves them above your head, with each thrust you both move against each other, and your moans pass your lips and dance across his. Your tongue finds his as it dances an intimate dance with his, your moans still escaping into him as he thrusts faster into you, but with each thrust, it is soft, with care, with a tenderness of the moment.
He moves from you, kneeling, watching the way he slips in and out of you, watching the way you coat him with a shiny coating of your juices coating his cock, you moan softly your back arches, your flesh against the contrast of the earth was beautiful, it was something he was going to have a forever memory about.
Lifting your hips to his own he growled softly as he continued to thrust picking up the pace as you roll your hips, your breathing picks up hearing his growls, you aren't able to contain yourself. Gripping at the grass above your head and your body bounces with each thrust he gives. Your moans are mere screams. From the grass to your breasts as he thrusts harder coming to a finish for you both he looks down at you and searches you.
"Finish with me." He states.
"Then don't stop… I am so close." You state.
"Of course not, Love." He smirks as he picks up his pace a little more.
His thumb finds your swollen sensitive bud and he begins to rub it the feeling causes you to scream in pure euphoria and tremble as you were not able to control yourself. Your legs are trembling and your walls begin to spasm against him as if milking him for his seed. He growls and moans loudly as he presses himself deep within you and he buries himself and ribbons of hot finish coat your walls.
After a few more twitches of his member, he looks down at you and smiles softly as he slowly pulls from you and moves to lay by your side. He tucks some hair behind your ear and smiles.
"Now, Mrs. Vronsky, you do know that this is likely to happen often on our honeymoon correct?" He chuckles.
Breathily you look at him. "I sure hope so. Mr. Vronsky."
He just stays there, admiring you, reaching into the basket to feed you grapes, admiring your body, you were absolutely beautiful to him, he couldn't stop staring at you. He didn't want to. Ever. Forever his. Forever yours.
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hexlenx · 3 months ago
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EVEN IN OTHER UNIVERSES, I LOVE YOU. — aaron taylor-johnson
In which you came home tired from work and only just wanted to lay down on your shared-bed with your husband. Only to see five different version of said husband.
note: hello! So I have come to write another one shot or fic or whatever you call it because I couldn't help myself but write this new idea I thought of. I do hope you enjoy!
warnings!: none because we fluffy today pookie.
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Sighing tiredly you let out a groan as you took a small break in your car, resting your head on the steering wheel as you closed your eyes for a few moments.
You just finished your work from helping your director write the script for the next movie you're starring. You see, you've been an actress in the industry for a long time now and even though it's tiring you continue to work through it as it is your passion. Plus, it's where you met your lovable and handsome husband. A fellow well-known actor in the industry.
The director asked for your help because you had experience in directing as well as a degree for it. So hence why you also came home late while your husband went ahead after a bit of your persuasion. Thinking of your husband, you smiled fondly. How can you be so lucky to have such a man?
While you were taking a small break from your car, said husband was sweating profusely in the kitchen with a spatula in hand while wearing a pink apron.
Looking at the five males in front of him, Aaron cursed underneath his breath.
"Fuck me."
The gate opened automatically after scanning your car's number plate. Before driving in reverse towards the garage door. Humming a soft tune you put the car on park and grabbed everything you need from the car before coming out of it.
Opening the door connected to the kitchen, you took off your shoes and hanged your coat on the hanger before calling out to your husband with a bright smile.
"Honey, I'm home!" Your smile slowly turned into worry as you were greeted by nothing. Usually you were greeted by a beaming charming smile as well as a giant hug lifting you off from your feet while being spun around by your husband.
Where could he be?
"Aaron? You there?" In slight worry you walked around the first floor of the house searching for your husband, but alas there was no sign so you moved upstairs.
There was a thump in one of the rooms when you were in the middle of walking on the stairs making you feel worry and fear when you heard a voice groaning as well as cursing. Your mind was running in a fast pace as you run up from the stairs towards the source of those noises.
No it can't be, please tell me he didn't—
The scene in front of you shocked you. The noises stopped as the figures looked at you in silence.
"Love, I can explain—" Aaron was the first to break the silence with his hands up as if he was trying not to anger you. And let me tell you, you do not want an angry wife at you.
However, instead of an angry wife. You looked like you were about to cry. You see, another thing about you is that you are quite an open and very sensitive person. Your legs gave up as you collapsed on the floor, tears running down your face as your exhaustion mixed with your anxiety was not a good combination right now.
"I—i thought you were with a w-woman—" you stuttered as your husband immediately went over you to put you in his embrace the moment your knees buckled whispering praises as well as reassurance to you. Desperately trying to calm you down. He knew you were very tired since it's about ten in the evening by now and he supposes that the noises he and the others made, made you think of something else.
His heart broke just by thinking he was doing things to another woman other than you, he cannot and will never do such a thing to you. He loves you too much to do so.
The five other male in the room looked at the scene in front of them, disbelief clear in their faces as they looked at your figure. Hearts beating uncontrollably as the younger looking male in the room muttered a name.
Your name.
This made all of you to snap your heads up to the male. Now that you look at it, they all looked just like your husband. No, actually all of them are your husband. No one can impersonate your husband unless it's your husband himself, his face is too unique to be able to copy.
"Why are there five more of you?"
Now that the situation has calmed down, you, your husband and five more of him sat in the living room in silence. Assessing the situation.
"So you're telling me that you, Dave was getting beaten up almost to death before coming here? James, you got here when you were stuck by Voldemort. Alexei, got here when you fell from your horse at full speed, head first. Tangerine, you got here after getting shot on the neck trying to kill the White Death's child and Pietro, you got shot multiple times by saving Clint from dying? Have I summarized it correctly?" You summarized outloud as the others nodded to confirm your statement. You sighed as both you and your husband looked at each other, not knowing what to do since unlike some of their worlds, you guys don't have the power to bring them back to theirs. But they all don't seem like they're hurt from their explanations. Maybe it's cuz they're in a different world.
"What were you doing before I barged in the room?" You asked your husband who looked everywhere but you.
"I was trying to give them some clothes, Dave, Pietro and James was the only one who accepted it but the other two wanted something that fit their styles." Aaron sighed as he took a sip at the coffee he made since it was getting late. He really thinks that you should rest first and let him handle it though.
"Sorry gentlemen, but it's quite late in the evening and I would like to take a nap and rest. We will take care of this tomorrow." You sent them a tired smile as you stood up from your seat and towards your bedroom upstairs, leaving all six of them in the room.
As soon as you were out of hearing range, Aaron's expression turned cold as he looked at Dave. Even if he knew the kid wouldn't hurt his wife because he played his character years ago, he will still not let loose his guard. Dave flinched from the glare and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while the others stared at him the same way as Aaron, that's weird.
"How do you know my wife?"
This made the men's eyes go wide. Wife? That made them collectively let out a sigh of relief. Wife..
"She's also your wife?" James asked Aaron, it's kind of weird talking to yourself as he looked at the older one in wonder.
"also?" Aaron questioned.
"Yea, I mean. In my universe I married her and had Harry after we got married at twenty-one." James enthusiastically explained as his face brightened up when talking about his lover.
"Uh.. she's my girlfriend in my universe too." Dave lifted up his hand awkwardly. Though you can see that he is also happy to announce that you are his lover.
"I'm also her lover when I have escaped Hydra with my twin sister." Pietro said with a charming smile, his face brightening up whenever he mentioned his wife.
"I'm married to'er in my universe. Doll, was the only one who accepted me other than my brother." Tangerine uttered out as he lit up a cigarette before puffing it out the smoke from his mouth, where he got that from? I don't know and neither does the others.
"...she is my affair, my lover that I intend to protect with all of my soul. The only maiden who saw me for me and not some viscount." Alexei said as his eyes were clouded with the memories of his lover. Ah, how he longed to be in her arms again.
"All of us are her lovers in another universe, huh?" Aaron sighed out, his smile coming out as he thought that even in different versions of himself, he chooses you and is still with you. It makes him sigh in content and happiness as he is assured that no matter what happens, he is still with you in the end.
"Even in every other universes, I love you." All men uttered out, the atmosphere becoming serene as they sat in a few moments of silence.
Warmth filled their chests as the leaned back in their seats as their thoughts only circled in one subject.
You.
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nyrasbloodyclover · 2 years ago
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ok so hear me out...
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One dance?
Fandom: Anna Karenina
Pairing: Count Vronsky/fem!reader
Plot: you’re at a ball, which is not your type of thing, and after an hour, you’ve had enough and go to leave.
Notes: this was written for @flufftober 2024 Day 9 prompt: “Don’t do that” - “But-”
Flufftober 2024 Masterlist - General Masterlist
I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.
Read on AO3 here.
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You had been at this ball for well over an hour. You did not see anyone of interest to you and you were just not interested anymore, so you made to leave.
“Don’t do that,” you heard a beautiful masculine voice behind you.
“But-” you started.
“Don’t leave. At least do me the honour of giving me one dance before you go,” he asked.
You turned and your eyes fell upon a man just as beautiful as his voice. You hadn’t seen him while you were glancing around the room. You’d know if you had.
He was holding his hand out, and you placed your hand in his. He lifted it slightly as he looked you in the eye. He leaned down, keeping his eyes on you until he kissed your hand.
You blushed and curtsied.
“One dance?”
“It would be an honour, kind sir,” you responded.
As he moved you to the dance floor, he whispered, “my name is Alexei Vronsky. What is your name?”
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pretty-little-mind33 · 4 months ago
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Count Alexei Vronsky x fem!reader
summary: Your brother's best friend finds you in a compromising position.
warnings: age gap (19/24), sexism/society rules of the time, masturbating, mutual masturbation, being caught, dirty talk, pervy!Alexei, reader is very innocent and Alexei is not innocent ;)
KINTOBER MASTERLIST
You didn't really understand these emotions coursing through you. Those feelings that would cause your cheeks to burn and that unquenchable ache in between your thighs to worsen. A girl from your etiquette class, the one who was known for being more mature than most girls your age, had whispered to you one day that the way to end the ache is to touch yourself.
But that was dirty, you thought as you sat on the windowsill of your room, wearing your flimsy nightdress, your book long abandoned on your lap. It's late outside and the street is dimly lit so you can't make out much, but you do see the shine of his blue uniform from the reflection of the lamppost. You sit up.
Alexei's back.
He must be here to see your brother. 
You pull your lip into your mouth, watching him as he walks into your home. You hold your breath, your hand sliding down to your stomach as the familiar ache returns. 
No!
You stand, dropping your book, feeling utterly embarrassed. Why does the feeling always worsen around Alexei? It's wrong, he's your brother's best friend and he's older and he— 
You rush to your plush bed, laying down dramatically as you fiddle with your hands and stare at your canopy. Your mind is reeling and the one image you can't shake is Alexei's eyes. How he holds eye contact whenever he sees you, and how that intensity causes you to feel like a million butterflies have found home in your insides. 
You squeeze your eyes shut, pushing the vision from your head as your hand unconsciously slides over the material of your dress, hovering between your thighs as you bite your lip at the warmth. 
This is sinful, you think, but knowing that doesn't stop you from bending your knees, bunching up your dress as you slide your hands into your undergarments. You moan at the first contact. Your eyes are still shut but your imagination is running wild. 
You imagine his large hands running up your thighs. The feel of those lips on yours, mixed with the prickle of his mustache. You let out a small whine, desperately attempting to find the correct pressure to make that throbbing ache disappear. 
His name falls from your lips in a frustrated whine. 
That stupid wench had lied. This isn't helping. 
Your stomach sinks when you suddenly hear the sound of your bedroom door closing and you shoot up, pushing down your skirt as your eyes widen and warm tears threaten to spill. 
This is the worst thing that could have happened.
The man himself stands in front of the door, his eyes trained to where your hand just was underneath your dress and he's wearing a small smirk. Alexei looks up, finally shattering the dreadful silence. "You know, usually, when someone pleasures themselves like this, one closes the door." 
You're frozen, feeling humiliated because the throbbing is still there and Alexei has seen everything and has heard you moan his name. 
"P-please leave," you whisper, clutching at your dress. 
He doesn't. Instead, he walks closer and gently pulls you up into a sitting position. Alexei's eyes look even more intense than ever and his hand finds your cheek. You look up at him, eyes a little dazed, and Alexei smiles. He wipes your tears with the pad of your thumb. 
"Why are you touching yourself, dove?" he asks. He isn't a stupid man, he knows damn well why he just wants you to admit it. 
When you stay silent, Alexei grins, "Is it feeling achy? Down here?" He slowly moves his hand and hand presses on your lower stomach.
"You're making it worse, Alexei," you whimper, voice trembling as you squirm. 
Alexei hums and guides you down onto your back so your hair is splayed across the pillow. You obey him, your mind turned to mush from the faint pleasure you'd experienced and from Alexei's presence. He has you wrapped around his finger and he knows it. 
Without a word, just a small smile, he dips his hand under your undergarments to touch you. You groan, thighs clenching. You know this is wrong but you don't want to stop him. "Shh, there," he mumbles, his thumb stroking your clit as he lays down on his side next to you, watching your expressions as his other hand caresses the hair away from your cheeks. 
"Oh," you gasp as he just rubs your clit, occasionally swiping up your slick slit. You turn your head, catching his gaze, and every form of decorum you had leaves you. "More. Inside?" you whine, not knowing why you want his finger inside you but you do.
Desperately. 
Alexei shakes his head, a pained look on his face, "No, дорогой (my darling). You know I can't risk ruining you for your future husband. You're too good for that. Вы заслуживаете большего (You deserve better than that).
You whimper, biting your lip as you squirm and chase the feeling in your stomach by bucking your hips up into his hand. Alexei groans as he watches your expressions, his own eyes glazed over. 
"Блядь (Shit)," he moans and roughly takes your hand, showing you how to properly rub yourself. Alexei sits up on his elbows, undressing as he frees himself from his trousers. You're watching, mouth open as you see him in all his glory. 
"What is that?" you breathe, the ache worsening when you see his cock. It's a little red from need and something inside you feels like you should understand but you don't. 
Alexei begins to stroke himself as you sense the coil in your stomach unwind at the sight. "My cock. It's supposed to go inside you but I—I can't do that—shit—I can't do that to you." His hand movements are quick and you're entranced. 
"Feels weird," you whimper, eyes shutting as your own hand moves quicker. 
"Let go, дорогой (my darling)." You hear Alexei's hoarse voice near your ear and you relax, letting out a squeak as your fingers become sticky from your release. "Good girl." 
You hear Alexei moan but your mind is too fuzzy to even open your eyes. You can hear shuffling and the next thing you know, he's holding your arm as you sit up again. When you open your eyes you can see he's kneeling at your feet. His cock is back in his trousers and you wet your lips, blinking. 
Alexei presses his warm hand to your cheek and wipes away the tears under your eyes. He knows you're confused but he also thinks it's not his place for him to explain everything. You're not his wife—
"Shh, you're okay. You did so well. I'm so proud of you," he says, his voice strained. 
God, he so wishes you were his. Then he could take care of you properly. He could love you properly.
He leans up and kisses your lips, savoring the moment as his hand rests on your knee. One kiss couldn't hurt anyone, right? Once you kiss him back clumsily, he heart thumps and he stands. He pulls you up with him and wraps his arms around your back. 
Alexei is so incredibly wrong. This kiss hurts more than anything because he knows he can't kiss you like this ever again. Still, he deepens the kiss at the thought, determined to enjoy this for as long as possible. 
tags: @earth-elemental18, @longlivedelusion, @princesssunderworld, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @simplyreflected
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