#my darling my darling my life and my bride >>>>>:) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kooktrash · 2 years ago

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million dollar darling | jeon jungkook

summary: jeon jungkook is well aware of how privileged he is to have been born into the life he was given. it was glamorous and influential yet close-knit and suffocating, something he thought he wanted to escape from. a trip back home to the circle of wealth and snottiness for his best friend’s million dollar wedding has reminded him of all the reasons why he wanted to leave in the first place… and all the reasons he should stay — the main one being you, the spoiled rich girl he knew was utterly perfect for him.

➣ genre/au: jungkook x model!reader [she/her, female anatomy], old money au, smut, plot [soft on the e2l/f2l tropes]

[loosely inspired by ‘crazy rich asians’ movie/book by kevin kwan]

➣19.7k words

warnings: heavy plot. smut. model oc. jk is a wander but he’s really just a rich guy in disguise. oc and jk got heavy tension but good banter. oc is kinda snotty but not really? namjoon x oc [not y/n]. rich, old money snotty bts. sex on a yacht. teasing. foreplay. oral [f and m receiving]. jk goes to town on oc. cunnilingus. unprotected. missionary. oc on top. jk is tatted up in a polo. heavy makeout. breast play. fingering. dirty talk. oc goes down on jk while he’s on the phone with hobi 😭. jk’s villain arc as he slowly turns back into a cocky rich boy hehe. jk gets sex flashbacks at dolce and gabbana

“Come on, it’s my wedding and I want you as my best man. Do it for your best friend.”

The sky had been clear when he landed, a bright blue cloudless sky that resembled the clarity of the sea he had left behind. The air already seemed stiffer and the bleakness of the airport brought his mood down almost immediately.

The only thing to make him somewhat happy to be home was the sight of the person in front of him, a huge grin on his face as he saw him. The man was dressed casual in a pair of sweats and a hoodie but the small details of his watch matched with the luxury car parked outside brought unwelcome attention to Jungkook when people stared.

“I was worried you bailed last minute,” Namjoon said with a grin as he pulled him into a hug, “It’s good to see you.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jungkook reached into the pocket of his oversized black hoodie and slid his face mask off, taking a cigarette and lighting it once they were outside the airport, “It’s been too long without seeing your beautiful face.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Yeonwoo, but I’d marry you if you weren’t such a man,” Namjoon joked, playfully flirting which Jungkook just laughed off.

“Too bad you’re not my type,” Jungkook patted his shoulder apologetically, “Besides, where is the bride?”

“Getting her hair done for tonight,” Namjoon said as they got into a Bentley Mulssane, “Also, please drive, I’m scared.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook scoffed, taking the keys anyway, “If you hate driving so much why buy an expensive car?”

“Yeonwoo liked the color,” Namjoon said as he got in the passenger’s seat of his own car, “Are you staying with your parents? I could still find you an apartment.”

“For a week? Don’t bother, I’m staying at a hotel,” Jungkook said, turning the engine on and driving out.

Namjoon sighed, “So you really are leaving again?”

“Was there ever a doubt I was?” Jungkook asked in surprise.

“Duh, kid. We miss you, you rarely call, you never visit, you barely respond and we know nothing that goes on with you,” Namjoon said, “I thought once you got your fill of life experiences, you’d come back.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything at that, sniffling uncomfortably as he tried switching the subject, “So, who’s my partner?”

This time Namjoon was the one to freeze up, staring out the window with sunglasses on and his jaw locked. With a shy smile, he asked, “Are you gonna bring a date?”

His brows furrowed as he looked at his friend, “Who’s the Maid of Honor?”

Namjoon released a nervous laugh, “Y/n L/n.”

The silence in the car was loud and from the way Jungkook’s jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed, it was easy to see he wasn’t happy about that. You? You were the Maid of Honor and his partner down the aisle?

“You know, her and Yeonwoo are close and Yeonwoo’s always thinking about who looks the best next to her on camera and obviously she’s gonna choose the runway model but listen,” Namjoon could barely catch a breath, “Y/n’s matured more now and she’s going to be there tonight so please be on your best behavior.”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Jungkook’s tone was sharper now and Namjoon huffed in annoyance.

“The rehearsal dinner on the pier, it was all in the catalog I sent you,” Namjoon said, “It’s for press. Our parents want to get it on Forbes and Vogue, they want to make it the Wedding of the Year.”

They both laughed at that and Jungkook sighed, “So there’s gonna be cameras?”

“Yeah but don’t worry they won’t focus on you,” Namjoon said with a smirk, “The attention’s going on me.”

When Jungkook pulled up to the hotel he would be staying at for the week, Namjoon left him to settle in with a promise that he would make it tonight so he had no choice not to. A letter from a close friend was sitting on the coffee table and he set his things down to get it.

It was a big envelope with a card and a few things rattling inside that made him curious. Jungkook turned the envelope down so the contents would fall onto his palm and a roll of condoms slipped out.

‘Welcome home buddy, enjoy the penthouse and may all your frustrations come undone — Jung Hoseok.’

The note itself made him scoff in disbelief. His womanizing friend making jokes before they’ve actually reunited. He left the things on the table and left to shower, doing what he could to make himself look presentable for tonight.

Tonight was the beginning of a soon-to-be hectic week of photoshoots, brunches, parties and finally the wedding. You were one of the ones front and center, never taking the limelight from the bride but carrying your own sense of grace that had people turning heads when you walked into a room—or in this case riverwalk.

You vowed to appear your best tonight and opted for a silk, powder blue Prada dress paired with Swarovski crystals on your neck. You did your part as Maid of Honor, directing all attention to your friend, polite smile and gentle assurance when needed in front of a crowd. Yeonwoo found it comical how well you fit into character when you need to.

“The perfect friend,” Yeonwoo joked as you dabbed smeared lip gloss from her lips, “What would I do without you?”

“Oh, I hope you never have to find out,” You said in a gentle voice that feigned innocence and longing. Yeonwoo laughed as she was called toward other people and you let her go as you found the nearest server holding a glass of champagne. You took a glass, turning toward the railing overlooking the shore, tipping your glass back and chugging as much of the drink as possible.

“So this is where the Maid of Honor will be spending her night?” A familiar deep voice spoke up from behind you and a mischievous smile grew on your face. You set the glass down, straightened your posture and turned to him with a soft gaze.

“Now you know that’s not fair, Joon, I’ve been with Yeonwoo most of the night,” you told him, already motioning for another server to give you a glass, completely ignoring the man standing beside him.

“I believe you, darling, now why don’t you come say hi to the Best Man,” Namjoon pushed Jungkook forward who just glared at him in response, “You remember Jeon Jungkook, right?”

“It’s been two years, not ten,” You said, finally looking at Jungkook with a glimmer of annoyance in your eyes, matched by his stare of unamusement.

“Alright well why don’t you two get reacquainted while I search for the gorgeous love of my life,” Namjoon said, making his escape as quick as possible.

“You counted?” Jungkook asked, taking just one step toward you, trying to stop his eyes from trailing down your figure.

“Of course,” You said sarcastically, “I’ve just missed you so.”

He couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes as he turned to the water, “You knew we were partners?”

“Obviously, I know everything,” you said with a scoff that had his tongue pressing against his cheek, clearly annoyed, “Like how you’re staying at one of the Jung’s hotels instead of home. How you plan on leaving still, where you landed, how long you’ve been her—“

“So you’re stalking me?” Jungkook asked, only half joking.

“Don’t you wish,” you laughed, “You’re all over the news.”

His smile dropped. When he had nothing to say, you grew bored and left him behind, making sure to lightly graze your fingers against his arm as you said, “And just remember, you’re the one who despises me, not the other way around.”

With that, you left without looking back and he was left watching the sway of your hips when you walked away.

Money rules the world, even when people want to say it doesn’t. The people who have it are living the dream and the ones who don’t, want the dream. It doesn’t even have to be the luxurious wonders of the world, it could be as little as financial stability or surviving. At the end of the day, it was a Rich Man’s world and this group of individuals were born lucky.

First, the groom: Kim Namjoon. The man with it all, the money, the family, the education, son of millionaires with three hospitals in their name and a line of pharmacies all across the globe.

The bride: soon-to-be, Kim Yeonwoo. The heiress to half a dozen airlines, an airport funded by her family for decades and a beautiful island in her name off the coast.

Kim Seokjin, practically a prince, generations worth of politicians, the highest education and a trust fund worth millions. He was the one you’ll see with the president or in Australia, golfing with men in charge.

Jung Hoseok, the hotel heir to a chain of ten thousand hotels across the globe. He was the one you’ll most likely catch partying in Venice with a princess whose name he couldn’t actually remember—or maybe giving a waitress the night of her life.

Min Yoongi, eldest son of an elite banking firm formed a hundred years ago. He was private about his life, similar to Jungkook, he only came out when he was summoned by one of the others.

Kim Taehyung was wild as Hoseok but more quiet about it. He’ll soon be heir of the billion dollar empire his family built in the Art world of museums and curations and performing arts.

Now, Jungkook’s story was a bit different from the others. His family worked in land development, most of the country being built on the backs of the Jeon’s who brought cities to rural areas and avoided the public’s eye.

They had the kind of old money that everyone knew, even when they tried to stay out of the news.

It was the kind of old money, people could never stop talking about and you understood what that meant most.

There was a mystery to the fortune of your family, it was old money, so old nobody knew where it came from. Some say oil, some claim aristocrats but it was too far back, and too private for any to know. All the public knew were the generous and loving philanthropists and their perfect daughter, the Nation’s Sweetheart, you.

You really were loved by all, the camera, the press, everyone. They all saw the kind, innocent girl in the public’s eye but only a few saw the snotty, spoiled and downright disrespectful side of you that was real.

Where Jungkook craved independence and isolation from his family name, you soaked in it. The attention. The money. The dependence, you were the complete opposite of him and it drew him insane.

One might ask why he was around you if he really did despise you, but for a long time it wasn’t up to him. The group didn’t all become friends one magical night when you compared your family’s net worth.

No, this bond had grown between galas, private academies, horse riding lessons at the country club and family businesses. It was a very elite, classist society where only the ultra rich could really only trust in each other and keep a country afloat off of it.

Do you think Namjoon would have been allowed to marry Yeonwoo if her parents weren’t as rich as they were?

Do you think Seokjin would have married his wife that he met at Oxford if her family hadn’t been international shipping magnates?

It was like a spider web, they were all connected in some way, all controlled and that’s what Jungkook hated.

He loved his friends, truly, but he hated the control. Not a single one of them had real freedom and every little thing they did came with a price and he couldn’t live that way anymore. He understood his own privilege and how lucky he was to grow up in such a way but he knew there was more to life than just that. When he left home for the first time, he didn’t expect to feel so free. It was like a sense of independence he’s not sure any of his friends have felt and now that he’s back he’s reminded once again of how suffocating it all is.

There had to be at least a hundred guests in attendance tonight and he couldn’t find a moment of silence. The suit he wore felt uncomfortable and he hated the way it seemed to confine him, make him more rigid and stiff.

“Please Jungkook, I was only being funny. Did it bother you that much?” Hoseok asked with a tinge of mischief in his voice.

“No,” Jungkook shrugged as he looked around the banquet hall, “I just found it unnecessary.”

“Really? I would’ve assumed the opposite considering you’ll be spending a lot of time with Y/n this week,” Taehyung said with a shrug as the three of them stood off to the side, talking amongst themselves as the guests of the charity banquet focused on your parents who stood on stage making some speech about the importance of giving.

As if on cue, the spotlight turned toward you where you smiled politely and acted shyly for the cameras.

A scoff left his lips as he pulled his gaze away from you, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hoseok chuckled, “Oh come on man, everyone knows you have a thing for her—you’re really bad at hiding it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook stepped away from his friends, “You guys don’t know anything.”

He didn’t have a thing for you.

Sure, you’ve known each other for a long time but that means nothing. He’s known them all for a long time and if anything he's made his distaste toward you pretty evident. When you were younger it was only because you were so spoiled and the attention had to always be on you. He hated watching everyone fall for your sweetness and do whatever you asked of them. He almost fell for it himself a couple times but then he would see the way you judged or looked down on people and he just despised you more.

There’s nothing about you that attracts him aside from your looks…

Tonight you were dressed more modestly in a Chanel sweater and skirt set that looked like you would soon be relaxing at the country club. You wore a black headband with a bow on it and satin gloves, looking as polite as ever while you talked to anyone who approached you.

You were the perfect, doting daughter and anyone with eyes could see that.

“So how mad are you?” Yeonwoo asked once you had settled back in your chair next to her and Namjoon. Even Namjoon seemed to listen in on the question, waiting to hear what you would say.

“What do I have to be mad at?” You asked with a tight smile as you reached toward her to fix a slight smudge on her cheek, “ Jungkook?”

“Well, we know you have some sort of disliking toward each other but…” Yeonwoo bit her lip nervously, “Joonie and Jungkook are really close.”

“We know you two don’t like each other but you should have expected this, right?” Namjoon chuckled nervously, “You’re both our best friends and…”

“Am I saying anything?” You asked.

They shared a look with each other, “I guess not.”

You smiled, “Okay, then let’s just make sure everything runs smoothly this week.”

You did in fact feel a type of way about Jeon Jungkook but you weren’t going to admit that right now surrounded by so many people always lingering around trying to listen. You’ve learned to be very careful about how you act in public and there’s no way your friends will get you to act out by asking about him.

Jungkook was not someone you wished to exhort so much energy on. He wasn’t worth anything to you and despite how many years you’ve known him, you’ve never wished to get to know him. You don’t care where he goes when he’s not home or who he talks to, nor what he does. He doesn’t cross your mind at all through your normal day to day and you surely weren’t going to let him in this week. All he has going for him is his money and his looks.

Ever since you learned he would be the Best Man you thought about what that would mean and accepted that he would be the one to walk with you down the aisle. Despite not being happy about it, you managed to hide your resentment quite well.

You know how he feels about you and over time that’s made you develop a disliking toward him which you find only fair. He might dislike you for being spoiled but you dislike him for being so entitled.

For some reason, he thinks distancing himself from this life means he’s better than everyone else and you hate that. He thinks that by moving away and making his own money suddenly makes him different than the rest of you but that’s not true. He just wants to act like he’s self made so he can feel superior to all of you trust fund babies and that is what annoyed you.

After some time third wheeling, you were getting tired and slightly annoyed watching the couple act lovey dovey. You hated couples, they grossed you out even if they were your best friends.

“Mind if I keep you company? You look like you need it.”

With a furrow in your brows, you turned to face the person who felt the need to whisper in your ear and get close to you without permission. A smile spread across your lips at the man standing directly behind you, his arm draping over your front and hugging you.

“Hello, darling, I’ve missed you,” Jimin’s voice was soft yet sultry and you gave each other kisses on the cheek in greeting as he moved to the empty seat beside you.

“I didn’t realize you were back,” You said to him, “How was Paris?”

He released a sigh, “Oh the usual, shopping… a few events here and there.”

“Mhm, and when’d you get back?” You asked, now intrigued by his presence.

“Just last night. I was planning on visiting you earlier but things came up,” Jimin said, adjusting the Swiss watch on his wrist, admiring the shine, “What has happened since I was gone?”

“Oh God, he’s back,” Hoseok rolled his eyes from across the room, “I ran into him in Marseille the other day and the guy wanted to act like he didn’t know me.”

“He’s been insufferable since Uni,” Taehyung muttered under his breath, “I don’t understand why Y/n puts up with him.”

“Who?” Jungkook asked, only half curious. He hadn’t been paying attention until he heard your name and his reason for hearing it was purely coincidental.

“Park Jimin,” Hoseok clarified, making Jungkook look closer at the man who sat very close to you, making you smile and touch his arms when you spoke.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Jungkook seemed indifferent as he looked down at his glass of champagne, trying to resist the urge to look back at you.

“Not at all,” Taehyung said, “He’s just some guy we went to Uni with here. I don’t know how he met Y/n though, probably at some shitty party but he’s nobody that matters.”

Well… Park Jimin was the son of starlets. His great grandmother, his grandmother was an actress, his mother was an actress and he’s been in a few independent films here and there. He spends most of his time sailing on yachts or speaking of the Cannes Film Festival. He’s insanely rich, but he’s still not rich enough despite his accumulated generational wealth.

Unlike Jungkook’s wealth which held actual value especially in real estate, Jimin’s just didn’t compare to his or any of his friends for that matter. So why did you seem captivated by him?

He is aware he shouldn’t think this way, it’s only him reverting back to his old self which was all arrogance and entitlement. He shouldn’t think about how much wealthier he was compared to Jimin.

Unfortunately, Jungkook couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from the pair as he tipped his champagne glass back, liquid pouring down his throat.

“Do you think she’ll take him to the wedding? I doubt Namjoon or Yeonwoo would ever invite him themselves,” Hoseok said and the three seemed like a group of gossips, the way they huddled around each other.

In Jungkook’s defense, he was barely listening to his friends. He was too busy watching the interaction happening not far from where he stood, eyes narrowed trying to understand what was happening.

First, he didn’t like you. He found you unbearable and you were the epitome of everything he hated about the High Society he had been raised in.

Second, he was only looking because you were next to his best friends. Maybe he wanted to see how in love Namjoon and Yeonwoo were but he couldn’t see because of you and your… friend.

Third, he wanted to know how you managed to stand out in your outfit despite the room being filled with people in extravagant clothes.

“I’m not sure, actually, rumors say she might,” Taehyung said and Jungkook couldn’t help but look over.

“What?”

“We’re just wondering if the Maid of Honor would bring her little boy toy to the wedding,” Hoseok said, looking at Jungkook as his jaw tensed, “What do you think?”

“I don’t care if Y/n brings anyone, we’re just dates for the pictures and ceremony,” Jungkook said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“So are you going to take a date too then?” Taehyung asked.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said as a server came around holding a tray of champagne glasses and he switched his empty one out for a full one. He didn’t bother to look back at his friends as he began walking away, “I’ll be back.”

“It’s so hard for him to act like he doesn’t care.”

“Kook! Come here, man,” Namjoon said with a wide grin as he saw his best friend walking by them. Jungkook didn’t bother glancing down at you as he greeted his friend.

“Kooky, I haven’t seen you all night,” Yeonwoo stood up to hug him, “Please don’t seduce my future husband, everyone has already RSVP’d.”

“Oh Yeonie,” Jungkook softly caressed her cheek, tipping her chin up to look at him, “If I wanted him, I would have had him by now.”

“Joon!” Yeonwoo whined clinging to Namjoon who just winked at Jungkook, further amplifying his fiancé’s feigned sobs. Jungkook smiled watching her squirm and without him meaning to, he let his gaze fall toward you.

“Y/n.”

You met his intense stare with your own and you could hear Jimin say he was going to get a drink but you didn’t look at him. You looked down at what Jungkook was wearing—a plain black Prada suit, how boring. “Jungkook.”

“Is that who you’re bringing to the wedding?” Jungkook asked, looking back at the infamous Park Jimin who stood with Taehyung and Hoseok, all three of them pretending to enjoy each other’s company.

“Maybe, we do get along very well,” you said with a sly smile as you stood up, not yet reaching Jungkook’s height but he didn’t intimidate you, “Is that a problem?

“No,” Jungkook said, voice low and deep, “I was just curious.”

“And why were you curious?” You asked, a mocking tone in your voice that he didn’t like, “Do tell me, how often are you curious about what I do?”

A scoff left his lips as he looked away from you first, “It was just a question, don’t get ahead of yourself and think you matter to me more than you do.”

An evident pout appeared on your lips and for a second his expression changed with worry but the moment was fleeting. You just laughed [giggled, actually] and with a gentle touch to his arm, said, “No need to lie to yourself.”

His eyes narrowed, anger bubbling up inside him when he heard a shutter of cameras going off, flash in his face and without thinking, he took your hand in his and left.

“If you plan on kidnapping me, it won’t work,” You said teasingly as you left to some dark corner behind large pillars.

“I’m not going to put up with a week of your games,” Jungkook said as he let go of your hand, missing the way your eyes fell to the black ink on his knuckles—something you had never noticed before, not even on the yacht when it was dark out.

“Then stop playing into them,” you said with a laugh, “If I drive you crazy, why bother talking to me at all? I think we’re both very capable of ignoring each other enough to not have to say a single word.”

“What I mean is, you can put on this act of yours for the cameras but don’t drag me into it,” Jungkook told you, ignoring the idea you had thrown out there. He was referring to your strange smiles and touches you give him when in the public.

“I’m not dragging you into anything,” You rolled your eyes, “And you seem to forget all eyes have been on you since you got back—heir to the Jeon Corporation. What do you think people will say when they find out you dragged me out here all alone? The Big, Bad & Rebellious Jeon Jungkook and The Nation’s Sweetheart, me.”

His eyes shut with a hint of anger that he tried to subdue, “Sweetheart?”

“That’s what I said,” you smiled sweetly to prove your point making him scoff.

“You’re not a sweetheart, you’re a spoiled brat,” Jungkook said, looking down at you in your pretty clothes with your pretty jewelry and your pretty face.

“Nice of you to finally notice,” you said bitterly and with a roll of your eyes, you pushed into his shoulder on purpose as you walked past him, “But we’re all the same, aren’t we? Just some of us like to act all high and mighty because you leave home craving independence, ignoring your privilege to seem like better people.”

Jungkook felt the jab of your words but he let you walk past him without a rebuttal.

With a sense of frustration, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to collect himself to rejoin High Society and finish the night with his head held high.

When Jungkook left his hotel the day of the Bachelor Party, he hadn’t been sure what to expect. Hoseok had done most of the planning for it since he had been abroad and when it comes to Hobi, you never know what to expect. It was almost two days of festivities and it was only toward the end that everyone would separate into their respective groups. That meant that once again he was forced into the same place as you.

The yacht sailed toward the private island the events would be at and as big as it was, he couldn’t escape you. There were the main group of friends that were always together and a few added guests, mostly Yeonwoo’s friends. Hoseok had already been hyping up the party tonight more than anything and everytime Namjoon would grow more worried. He didn’t need a big party thrown by his notorious womanizing friend.

“So what do the girls have planned?” Jungkook asked Namjoon as they sat at a table, looking at everyone aboard. Some people wore little clothing, others casual clothes, you wore something in between. It was casual yet attractive.

“ I don’t know, something probably calmer than what Hobi’s got for us,” Namjoon said but his friend had tuned him out after the first part, “Y/n planned it all and leant us the Yacht for the guests.”

“The yacht?” Jungkook asked, looking around at the luxury super yacht.

“14.7 million dollar yacht for Y/n’s birthday last year,” Namjoon explained to Jungkook, “She wanted a Booze Cruise.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but scoff, “So Y/n got a yacht?”

“It comes in handy, doesn’t it?” A soft voice spoke from behind him and his breath hitched. You looked over to Namjoon, “Yeonie is looking for you.”

“The wife calls,” Namjoon said with a cheesy smile as he left you two behind.

“So, are you ready to go party with Hobi tonight?” You asked with a laugh, “I heard he’s got some former Miss Universe models coming in.”

“Oh, fun,” Jungkook said, slightly sarcastic.

“Kook, you’re not old enough to not like partying with models,” You teased making him look over at you. For a moment he wondered if what you said had a double meaning considering you were a model but he didn’t want to speak up about it.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a party animal,” Jungkook said truthfully, only a hint of joking as he looked around at the packed floor, “I think even this is too much.”

“Wow, how could you be a former Socialite if you don’t like partying?” You asked, “Is it all that time in the jungle or desert you spent alone that changed you?”

Jungkook could hear the sarcasm in your tone but he knew it wasn’t in an offensive way. He had backpacked to a small village in Indonesia for a few weeks before leaving to Nevada or Dubai—and he hated that you knew it all. He enjoyed traveling alone and experiencing things alone; he doesn’t need parties with too loud of music or too many drunks. He’s like Namjoon, they want to celebrate with their small group of friends rather than a party full of strangers who don’t even know what the occasion is.

“It might’ve,” Jungkook said, clearing his throat and checked the time.

You didn’t say much else after that and he got the impression that you grew bored talking to him. He looked at you still waiting to see if you would say something else but instead, you just looked off into the distance, not bothering to hide the sudden boredom you must have felt.

He’s sure he could have found something else to say to you but it was no use when he could see you beginning to slip away when you looked down at your cellphone with a bright smile. You didn’t utter out a goodbye as you left him behind to answer your phone, “Chimmy, I’ve missed you. How’s Morocco?”

“Warm,” Jimin said, “I’ve just finished a shoot and I believe I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh I won’t be home, remember?” You said as the final thing Jungkook was able to hear from you before you walked away.

Jungkook couldn’t help but look after you, thinking about who might’ve called you and how things were handled and he had to be honest, he was curious. He wasn’t attracted to you but he found you attractive… He thought you were charming and charismatic but not enough for him to want you, maybe…

The two of you just seem so different. He’s seen as the Black Sheep of the group, not because he’s not wealthy or attractive but because his past decisions have apparently been awful ones.

He was never one for parties so he wasn’t wild and defiant. He did make a declaration to leave all the money behind and pursue his dreams—something rich people were not allowed to do. Especially not if you were next in line to inherit it all like Jungkook was.

You are more free than he is and yet you like being in your bubble. You like the glamor and the responsibilities because unlike him, you know how to play both sides. Do your parents care that you’re out wasted at European raves or sailing on your yacht with a foreign prince? No, why? Because you know how to act like the innocent, perfect princess you’re supposed to be.

Jungkook can’t pretend that well. He can’t hide his tattoos or piercings or signs of nonconformity.

So, yes, he finds you attractive but he can’t let himself fall for you when he thinks you’re too different from each other. It just doesn’t stop his brain from thinking about you though.

“Have you seen Y/n?” Jungkook asked Taehyung who had been sandwiched between two women he couldn’t name.

Taehyung, evidently drunk, shook his head no, “Are you ready to confess your undying love for her?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, scoffing as he said, “Fuck off.”

All Taehyung did was laugh, making the girls he had his arms around laugh too and Jungkook left feeling annoyed. He was just curious to know where you were, that’s all. Namjoon and Yeonwoo are busy making their rounds, greeting and thanking everyone on the boat and his other friends were off doing their own things. He’s already spent too much time sulking by the railing, staring down at the dark blue water that he can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t want to drink to the point that he’s drunk so really, his last hope is you.

“Have you seen Y/n?” Jungkook asked as he went to the rooftop where Hoseok was sitting in a hot tub full of strangers. Hoseok looked like such an asshole [something Jungkook had permission to say] with his designer sunglasses and Vacheron Constantin watch, just barely above the water surface.

Hoseok barely glanced his way as he said, “I don’t know, check downstairs.”

That was all Jungkook needed to know before he was heading down to find you. It took a while of asking any person he passed by, where you might be and through all this, he couldn’t remember why he was looking for you in the first place.

He had no idea where he was going, he just found himself walking down what felt like endless corridors of rooms, following the directions of whatever housekeeper he could find. The boat really was big, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that this was a simple birthday present.

“Now, who do we have here?” You looked down the empty hallway toward the man in front of you. It pained you to see just how attractive Jeon Jungkook really was.

You have to admit, he really knows how to dress for occasions. The rare times he’s photographed in some news article, he’s dressed casually, clearly trying to hide from the public eye but now that he’s back it seems his fashion has picked up. He wore a striped black flannel Dolce & Gabbana shirt tucked into cream colored slacks, and matching velvet black slippers from their newest collection.

“I’m just… wandering,” Jungkook cleared his throat, whatever excuse he had made up earlier, completely out of mind, “What happened to your dress?”

A large red stain adorned the front of your pink dress from the chest down your torso. You looked down at the stain with a roll of your eyes, “Some stupid bitch worker. She’s off the boat tomorrow.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, feeling you brush past him and down the hall, “So you’re firing someone for spilling a drink?”

“Um, this is Valento? Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a stain like this?” You asked with a slight scoff as you went to the door straight at the end, pushing your key card in to open it, “It took the dry cleaners ages last time.”

“I didn’t take you as an Outfit Repeater to be worrying about things like that,” he stopped at the door, already looking around at what was evidently the master cabin. The water out the windows was a dark, midnight blue and it reflected into the room of silver and gray. It had a walk-in closet, and king sized bed with a view of the open water and a private deck. He didn’t dare go in and put himself in personal quarters with you.

You gasped, stopping your movements of rummaging through your closet to say, “I am an environmentalist.”

He couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not and he had to fight back a grin at how un-woke you sounded considering you were ruining the planet with a private yacht of this size.

You pulled out an off-white dress, a Jaquemus piece, ‘La Robe Artichaut’, “Ugh, after this week, I am firing a lot of people.”

“What happened this time?” Jungkook asked, leaning against the doorframe watching you, waiting for you to kick him out but you just went toward the windows overlooking the dark blue ocean. As much as you claimed to not get along, you talked like old friends.

You reached your hands toward your back, attempting to undo the back of your dress on your own, “I told my assistant not to pack anything close to white and she packs this dress? I swear people can’t do anything right.”

“If people ask just say you’re supposed to match me,” Jungkook said referring to his slacks, “Yeonie won’t be mad her Maid of Honor is wearing off-white.”

“I guess,” you sighed, letting go of your dress and not bothering to look back at him as you said, “Undo the back.”

Jungkook stood silently at the door, staring at you with dark eyes. The fabric of your dress was thin and soft to the touch—he could just tell with the way your figure had so effortlessly shaped the dress. It is a real pity you had to change out of it, he’ll admit that, but now he’s been asked—no, demanded—to help you to take it off.

He has no idea why you think you could just boss him around but this seems to have always been the case. The two of you were never close in the past but the very few times you would run into each other… as much as he hated it, there was always some sort of tension there.

With your back to him, you hadn’t seen the way he silently made his way across the room, shutting the door behind him as he went right to you. You could sense his presence behind you, see his reflection in the dark window and feel his rough fingers brush against your back.

“I meant to tell you, I like your shoes,” You said casually, his fingers beginning to work the knot that tied the ribbon of your dress, “My friend wore them in Paris just a week ago.”

“Friend?” Jungkook raised a brow curiously, his eyes trained slowly on the ribbon he was ever so slowly pulling loose. His gaze shifted to your reflection in the window as he pulled a little rougher than earlier, “Is this the one you’re always running off on the phone with?”

“You mean Park Jimin?” You asked, not bothering to react at all to his roughness or his speed, “Yes, him.”

You could feel Jungkook’s deep exhale as he pulled it as loose as he could while still being appropriate, “Are you seeing him?”

A mischievous smile couldn’t help but make its way to your face as you turned to face him, holding your arms around yourself modestly, “Is that what you wanted to talk about all along? You could have asked me earlier instead of spending who knows how long looking for me.”

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself agreeing with you, and with a tense jaw he asked again, “Well, are you?”

“I’m going to get changed,” you motioned toward the door, telling him to leave, “Unless you want to help me with that too.”

A scoff left his lips as he took a step back, annoyed that you wouldn’t just answer his question and annoyed he even cared enough to ask. What did it matter to Jungkook if you took a date? He wasn’t in a relationship with you and he barely considered you a friend.

When he wasn’t here and he was traveling, he was perfectly fine not knowing a thing about you aside from whatever article or magazine you appeared in. Why now that he returns and he sees how… glamorously beautiful you are, is he curious about you?

“And just so we’re clear, no, I’m not seeing Jimin,” You told him as he walked toward the door, stopping midway to listen to you, “Because I know it would make you jealous.”

To be honest, you didn’t think he would actually be jealous, it’s just a joke. Something about you just gets under Jungkook’s skin and it wants you to push his buttons that much more. As obvious as it was that he wasn’t at all amused by your sweetness, it was your arrogant charm that seemed to get him every time.

You knew you were beautiful, you knew you had every right to be arrogant and as much as Jungkook could deny he’s attracted to you at all, it’s very noticeable. You’ve never been told no a day in your life. You’ve never been rejected either and you know Jungkook wouldn’t dare reject you if you actually went for it.

Despite how vocal he is about his distaste toward you, you can’t help but still get giddy in his presence. You just want to rile him up and know that he’s attainable to you. You’ve always had a thing for him, he was an absolute gorgeous man and he was wealthy, extremely wealthy. He was educated and had class but at the same time he was rugged and intimidating. You’ve seen the small glimpses of ink on his knuckles and you just know that under all his long sleeves, he had more to show.

Whether you felt seriously for him or if you just figured it’s a spur of the moment situation, you want him.

“Jealous?” Jungkook attempted to scoff but the word caught in his throat with some truth to it, “Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, sliding the strap of your down your shoulder, “Because then you would have to share my attention with someone else.”

Jungkook knows he should leave. You had asked him to leave yet you kept going back and forth, and it was stopping him from doing so.

He should go.

He needs to go before he does or say something he’ll regret.

If he caves in to your taunts then he’ll be disappointed in himself, like part of him was allowing his return to his old lifestyle of luxury and privilege.

“Y/n, you always say things you don’t know,” Jungkook asked you with a deep voice that had you smiling, practically feeling him give in. His gaze was dark and there was no hiding the growing tension, “And you must think you’re real cute trying to act out now that we’re alone.”

“No, I know I am,” you said, not backing away from the eye contact. “And you know it too.”

“I don’t,” Jungkook loomed over you, eyes tracing down the curve of your nose and to the slight part in your lips, “I think… I think you’re…”

You blinked up at him, “Well say it, or are you too busy thinking about kissing me?”

An annoyed huff left his lips as one of his hands pulled you toward him at your waist and the other tilted your chin up until his lips were grazing over yours. You reached toward him, making the first real press of your mouths together and there was no use in acting like he hadn’t been in fact thinking about kissing you.

Jungkook let his eyes fall shut as yours did and he pulled you closer into his chest with the hand on your jaw sliding down toward the curve of your neck, making sure you didn’t pull away just yet. You kept up with the pace he had set of slow yet hungry kisses, pulling on your lips or letting his tongue slide against yours tenderly.

“Well?” You gasped feeling his soft lips kiss along your jaw, his soft black hair brushing against your face, a light scent of his shampoo or cologne that left you feeling intoxicated. The hand he had on your waist tightened at your words, pulling away with a quiet grunt, he looked you in the eye.

“Don’t ask me any more questions,” Jungkook groaned, the taste of your lips still on his tongue and there was a light sheen of gloss coating his lips from yours.

It’s shameful for him to admit how easy it was for you to break him down into every other man who seems to fall at your feet when given the chance. This is exactly what he didn’t want and now he’s pulling the godforsaken stained dress he undid and watching it slip down your body, revealing your naked form to his hungry eyes.

Above your bedroom was a deck filled with people celebrating the soon-to-be newlyweds while the Best Man and Maid of Honor are in the master cabin, half undressed, and stumbling onto the bed.

Jungkook was gentle but firm, he wasted no time popping the buttons of his shirt open, exposing the toned muscles of his body and the ink covering most of his arm. Your eyes scanned the markings, surprise and wonder evident on your face with how well he managed to hide how much he’s gotten done since he left.

“Surprised?” Jungkook asked, eyes low when your hands ran over his slacks, pulling at his belt and nails lightly scratching at his abdomen. His voice dripped with arousal when you sat up from beneath him, pressing light butterfly kisses to his abs and tattoos.

“You always surprise me,” You admitted, not as teasing as before but with a hint of playfulness still there. You looked up from his chest, the height of your sitting form and his standing one looked endless as he towered over you. “For instance, I didn’t think it would be this easy to get you in my bed.”

You kissed along his neck now, sitting on your knees to reach him better and nipping at his sensitive spots. His hand tightened around the neck of your head, not pulling your hair but definitely getting your eyes on his, “Why do your words sound so dirty when you say them so… “

Jungkook couldn’t even finish his sentence before succumbing to you once more and kissing your lips. With little force applied, he was laying you back down on the bed with his tattooed and muscular body just melting into yours effortlessly. With one hand on your neck and the other sliding down to the curve of your thigh, it felt like he was all over you.

“Let’s take this off you,” Jungkook murmured between kisses down your neck as he began to finally take off the ruined dress that had been in his way since you got him to undo it in the first place, “You’ve been teasing me with this since earlier.”

“Maybe because I wanted to see you get worked up,” you sighed as you made yourself comfortable on the king side bed, your body slowly unveiled to his hungry eyes. Once he had pulled the dress off you completely and threw it to the side, sitting up between your spread legs and staring.

Jungkook didn’t bother with discreteness as he eyed down your naked body still in shock that he was seeing it before him. Your breasts were on full display and the only piece of fabric hiding you was a thin lace underwear that felt so nimble and soft under his fingertips, so easy for him to just tear off of you. You looked gorgeous laying so pliantly underneath him and he couldn’t help but let his hands slide down from your bent knees to your inner thighs.

“Did it work?” You asked just above a whisper as he hovered over you, leaving needy kisses between your breasts while he tugged at the hem of your panties until he was sliding them down your legs.

“It really fucking worked,” Jungkook groaned as he cupped your boobs in his hands, letting his tongue lick at your pert nipples and feeling the way they stiffened underneath him. Your hands went to his hair, legs nearly wrapping around his torso when you felt his teeth lightly press into your nipple, sucking and tugging when needed.

His kisses began to run down toward your navel with his hands replacing his lips and kneading your breasts in the palm of them while he moved down to lay between your legs, “I want a taste, pretty girl.”

“Then get one,” you said in a whiny tone that had his big rounded eyes turning to look at you with surprise. A knowing smirk falling on his lips as he lifted your knees and pulled your thighs apart as far as they could go until he was eye level with your pretty cunt. Jungkook was never one to stop and tease when he needed sex, he had a tendency to get a little rough and take what he wants but it’s so hard to move it along when he’s met with the sight of you laying so pretty for him. He could tell your patience was running thin with how long he was taking to do anything and just before he felt you close to snapping at him, he leaned into you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped in surprise with the sudden swipe at your clit by Jungkook’a flattened, long tongue and you’ll admit it caused goosebumps to form on your skin. You couldn’t see the way he smiled as his hands circled around your thighs, repeating his teasing flick of his tongue, feeling the way your folds began to react to him.

He felt your fingers run through his soft hair for anchor and for some reason that slight grip you had on him had his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let himself get lost in the taste of your pussy. No longer up for any sense of teasing, Jungkook lets his mouth fall open, kissing your wet heat with his tongue pressing between your folds and finding your clit. Your hips were slowly bucking into his face, showing him just how much you liked his tongue and he knew just what to do to have you coming undone underneath him.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his lips wrapped around the hard bud while his tongue swiped against the tip of it. He began a repetition of that and grazing his teeth ever so softly against your sensitive folds knowing he found your weak spot when he sucked your labia into his mouth and had your soft moans filling the cabin.

“Jungkook,” you moaned softly, fingers tugging at his hair roughly, “Oh god.”

He didn’t dare pull his mouth off you to give you a response and instead let his actions grow rougher. He unwrapped a hand from around your thigh and slipped it down to your pussy where he let his finger begin to draw patterns into your labia, so close to your entrance that he could feel your arousal quite literally leak out of you.

Your body was filled by pleasure that Jungkook was bringing you and you couldn’t help but bring your free hand to your neglected chest, trying to fill the void that Jungkook’s hand had left as you groped your breasts. Jungkook looked up completely enamored with the way you played with yourself while he ate you out and without any second thoughts, he pressed his long middle finger into your waiting cunt.

“That’s it,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss along your pelvis, “Cum for me, darling.”

“Jungkook,” you whined as he pushed a second finger in, hooking them upwardward just past your pubic bone and finding that soft, spongy spot with ease. With the way your walls fluttered around his fingers, he knew you were close and all it took was his lips around your clit while thrusting into that pleasure spot of yours, for you to wrap your legs around his shoulders and shake with release, “Oh my god.”

“Mm,” Jungkook groaned with pleasure, feeling your arousal flood his fingers in your release. He looked down at his wet hand, bringing it to his lips where he licked off the release that threatened to drip down his forearm, “Sweet.”

You looked like a mess trying to catch your breath and come to understand what had just happened between you to think too long about the fact that he was pressing his fingers into your waiting mouth till you licked your own release off him. He lifted a brow as your tongue circled around his fingers while sucking on them with your cheeks hollowed in. It had his breath hitching, trying to pull his fingers back out before he came just from that and began to pull at his own pants.

“Condom?” He asked in an unusually low and raspy tone. You blinked, “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He didn’t press for more as he kicked his slacks and briefs off, hard cock pointed up stiffly. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You wanted to wrap your lips around him and take him deep in your mouth because his dick was surprisingly so fucking pretty you just needed it desperately.

With your mind decided, you attempted to sit up when he pushed you back down, cock in his hand as he gave himself a couple strokes to relieve some tension and pulled your legs apart, “I need you now.”

“Impatient, are we?” You asked with a laugh, making yourself relax when you felt his cock head brush against your exposed clit. Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to what you said as much as he was to the way his mushroom tip fit perfectly between your folds.

A soft gasp left your lips as he pushed it against your clit, playing with your labia and letting the clear liquid that dripped out of his tip, coat your clit.

“Fuck,” Jungkook took a deep breath as his cock nearly slipped inside of you, playing with your earlier release to cover his length in it, “Such a pretty pussy.”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes, you grew tired of his teasing and with a quick hook of your leg around his slim waist, you pushed his cock into you eliciting a deep groan [almost growl] to slip from his lips, “Fucking hell, Y/n.”

“You were taking too long,” you moaned, legs falling back again as you tried to ease the slight pain that came from his thick member entering your tight walls. Jungkook’s hair was brushing against your face as he looked down at the way you took him in, “I was trying to be gentle.”

“Did I ask you to be?” You asked with a scoff. Jungkook rolled his eyes, spreading his legs further apart and digging his knees into the bed for support as he covered you with his body, laying down to plant a quick kiss to your lips. “Brat.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” your manicured nails traced down his back until your hands were under his thighs as if ready to make him move on your own, “Are you going to fuck me yet?”

He couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief, an amused smile on his face and without saying a word, he pulled out until on his tip was past your ring of nerves, and suddenly pushed back in. Your lips fell open in a silent gasp as your eyes locked with his and he smirked.

“You need it that bad?” Jungkook asked as he pulled your legs up, pressing them toward your chest and holding them down with his arms as he kissed your neck, dragging his cock back out, “How bad?”

“Jungkook,” you groaned, trying to move your hips but in this position it was useless, “Start moving.”

“Make me,” he kissed the tip of your nose, slowly sliding himself back in just a little. You rolled your eyes, moving your hand to hide your face as you felt yourself getting annoyed.

Jungkook was smiling like this was all just so amusing to him and with his lip pulled between his teeth, he thrusted in with little restraint, starting a slow yet steady rhythm, “Don’t hide your face, darling. I wanna see the Y/n L/n moaning for me.”

“Fuck you,” you shook your head feeling your pussy tighten around him with your legs pulled to your chest unable to escape his thrusts that were becoming more rough by the second.

“Come on darling, you can do it,” Jungkook groaned, feeling like he was on cloud 9 from the way your pussy took him in. He doesn’t know how to explain it but he felt really fucking good right now. He’s not sure if it’s that he hasn’t had sex in a while, or if it had something to do with the fact that it was you, but he was fucking you with all his energy, letting himself relax and just feel good in the moment.

“Jungkook,” you moaned his name, hand slipping from your face so you could wrap it around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Kiss?” He asked, out of breath as his rhythm faltered and without thinking, he let go of your legs and let them fall back onto the bed as he tilted your chin up with a hand to kiss you. He set his other hand down on the bed for support, getting lost between your lips and your tight pussy.

Jungkook’s tongue licked against yours swallowing your moans, “Y/n, it’s s’good.”

“Mhm,” you circled your legs around him, “Fuck.”

Jungkook kissed down your neck, hands sneaking down to your waist and with one swift movement, rolled onto his back with you on top. He needed a change of pace because if he kept going, he would cum sooner than he wanted to and he needed you to cum one more time for him so if that meant letting you get in top, he would.

And it had been such a good idea because the sight of you sitting on his cock, leaning back and placing your hands on his thighs instead of chest, made him more excited. Your knees dug into the bed and with your fingers scratching at his muscular thighs and raised your hips, lifting yourself off his cock before plunging him back in.

“Fucking hell,” Jungkook groaned throwing his head back into the pillows, a hand on your hip but not daring to take control, “That’s it darling, fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Jungkook,” the new position was having him reach newer parts inside you that had your thighs shaking, “I’m so close.”

“Take it,” Jungkook growled, holding you in place as he dug his feet into the mattress and began to fuck up into you, “Take my fucking dick, fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you fell forward, hands scratching at his chest, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, “I—I can’t. Jungkook, baby, oh my—“

“Take it,” he groaned, grabbing your hips harshly and moving once again so he was on top, thrusting into you despite how hard it was getting to pull out of your tight walls, “Take it.”

“I—I,” your lips fell open in a loud cry, pinching his biceps for stability, and felt your walls come undone. For the second time in less than hour, your orgasm hit you hard. Jungkook released a string of grunts, feeling your pussy convulse around him and his cock was greeted with a flood of warmth that had his legs shaking, trying to support him but he couldn’t take it. He barely had time to slip out before he was letting go, his cum dribbling down to your thighs as he let out one final moan of your name.

His body seemed to collapse down next to yours, panting and out of breath, “Fuck.”

The two of you were a mess, sweaty and sore and all you wanted to do was lay down and possibly sleep but where you were did not go past you unnoticed. You searched around for your cellphone, knowing you set it down somewhere before trying to change and found it on your nightstand with six missed calls from the Bride-To-Be.

Jungkook took a deep breath, sitting up and looking down at the mess the two of you made on the bed. He got up, not bothering with covering himself up as he found a towel and tried cleaning himself off with it while you got on your phone.

“Duty calls,” you joked with a sigh as he came to your side and began to wipe down your thighs. Yeonwoo sent you a dozen messages talking about a midlife crisis of some sorts. You sat up carefully, thanking him for handing you your robe and you slipped it on.

“What happened?” Jungkook asked with an awkward clear of his throat as he began putting on his clothes again. He’ll admit he was taking his time getting dressed and you left to the bathroom to freshen up.

“I don’t know, something with the gift boxes for everyone. I think Yeonie’s assistant forgot them,” you told him as you found new underwear to wear, making sure you were cleaned before putting them on. You left the door to the bathroom open to talk to him but you still changed into the white Jacquemus dress from earlier.

You walked up to him and he got the memo about zipping your back up and this time he couldn’t help but lean down to press a kiss to your shoulder blade, “Are you going up yet?”

“I’m gonna touch up my makeup first,” you told him honestly, “You go ahead.”

When Jungkook reached upstairs again, finding the party just as he left it earlier, it’s like nobody noticed he had even left for so long. They were all too focused on your new dress — which Yeonwoo absolutely adored on you. He found a glass of champagne and tried to escape from the swarm of people trying to hold a conversation with him when he wasn’t thinking clearly at all.

Unfortunately for the two of you, the matching off-white shade of your clothing and the sudden mark on his neck wasn’t lost on anyone else. Soon, pictures from every angle possible would paint a story neither of you wanted.

There was a sense of guilt that came with disassociating yourself from your best friend’s wedding plans. Jungkook could barely remember what they had done once they got to the island after a surprising night of visiting your cabin.

He hasn’t had an actual conversation with you since that night and he has to be honest and say, he barely remembers the actual wedding. He hadn’t seen you since the yacht before being dragged away by Hoseok the following day to do some activities for Namjoon’s groomsmen. You had gone to do your Maid of Honor duties and he’s felt out-of-loop since.

The entire day had been packed with things to do and he’s aware he looked dashing in every photo the photographers took of him in his 12,000$ Kiton suit. The matching suits they all wore made the groomsmen look classy and cohesive while the Balmain dresses the bridesmaids wore made them elegant and surreal—well at least for you.

That’s what he thinks is the problem.

His best friends got married and yet all he was able to think about was you. It didn’t help that despite the wedding being on a private island, there was still press everywhere, capturing every angle of this beautiful matrimony between nepo babies.

The reception had been filled with various questions from various interviewers that left all your shared friends staring at you suspiciously—especially when questions of the hickey on his neck came forward.

As awful as it sounded considering the 46 million dollar wedding in the mountains of an island was stunning, he could barely remember half of what hadn’t been photographed. He left the day after the wedding with an excuse that he had things to take care of where he’s currently at and his friends bid him farewell.

He got to the mainland a day before the others and it gave him time to return home before he left on another voyage alone.

“How was the wedding?” His older brother asked, swinging his mallet just slightly, trying to find his nail before shooting the ball through the hoop, “I can't believe I was caught up in meetings all week in Tokyo.”

Jungkook looked oddly bright today compared to how he felt and he didn’t want to say it was because his casual and boring clothes he wore abroad stuck out here in ways he didn’t like. That’s why today—his last day home—he visited his family’s 150 acre estate for a game of Croquet and possibly tennis, wearing a matcha colored Loro Piana cashmere polo with short sleeves.

“Um, it was great,” Jungkook said as he brought his cigarette to his lips and lighting the end before inhaling.

“That’s it?” JungHyun asked with a scoff as he motioned for Jungkook to take his turn and he took his brother’s cigarette, “Did you have an orgy with any models or were you your usual gentleman self that won the crowd against me?”

His older brother had been well known in his younger days for many reasons, his partying, his charm, his youth and education. When he was in his mid twenties, you could always catch him in some article their parents tried taking down in regards to driving under the influence or insulting a server. Unlike Jungkook who preferred a quiet life he could escape to, his brother did not and now he’s some big shot finance guy because his attitude growing up had ruined his chance of inheriting everything from their grandparents. Now it will all go to Jungkook—something they’re all aware of—and maybe that’s why JungHyun makes snide remarks here and there.

He’s not asking about the wedding because he’s curious, he’s bitter that despite his perfect appearance and Jungkook’s more intimidating kind, Jungkook was still the most well-mannered of the two and therefore the favorite—if only he stayed and fulfilled his duties.

“No orgy,” Jungkook said with a hint of disgust as he finished his round of the game, one step closer to winning, “Just Y/n.”

JungHyun had been mid-swing when he mentioned you and his aim went astray making him miss the next ring, “What do you mean just Y/n?”

“I slept with her—“

A loud and annoying laugh cut him off as JungHyun let his mallet go, “Ah, so you can’t remember the events of your best friend’s wedding because you were too busy sleeping with the nation’s sweetheart? Oh I cannot wait till father hears about this, maybe your wedding is next and then you’ll finally step up to the plate.”

Jungkook scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means now that you’re back, and dating the richest girl in the country, there’s no way Father won’t hand you down the company now,” JungHyun said bitterly, “And everyone said you running away would be a bad thing, but clearly it’s reminded you of who you are.”

“I’m not… I’m not staying,” Jungkook said, “I leave tomorrow but I wanted to see you all. And Y/n and I aren’t going to date, it was a… um.”

“Mistake?” JungHyun asked, “Jungkook, don’t be an idiot. You’ve been obsessed with her for years.”

“I have not.”

“You have, you just don’t want to admit that all your talk about being independent and leaving the money behind to be free was complete bullshit,” JungHyun said with a scoff, “Or why would you mess around with her of all people. A relationship with Y/n is going to put you at the top once again and there’s nothing that won’t be handed to you—and she’s someone mother would approve.”

“You’re dramatic,” Jungkook huffed, “One night doesn’t mean we’re dating or getting married or any of that other shit. I still don’t want to run the business… I just want, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you never know what you want,” JungHyun said, “But whatever, if you’re set on running away again, so be it. I’m tired of trying to make you see how you blindly follow along with everything you seem to hate.”

“Master, your wife is on line three and she’s wondering who is picking up the kids.”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” JungHyun groaned, annoyed and no longer interested in talking to his little brother, “The driver?”

Jungkook watched his brother leave him behind and with a defeated sigh, he left.

“So are you leaving?” Youngi asked him as he watched the bubbles in his pink champagne, “Or have you changed your mind?”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Jungkook said stiffly as he fixed the suit jacket he was currently getting fit into, “I’m just postponing my leave but I have a few things to take care of here.”

“Like with you and Y/n?” Youngi asked, making sure the fitting room at Dolce & Gabbana was empty aside from just them two. Jungkook didn’t even flinch at the mention of you. Since the two arrived at this store his vision has been filled with large framed photos of you and your dear friend Park Jimin all over the store. Apparently you were one of the brand’s favorite Ambassadors and they made it known you modeled their products. Right now he’s facing the mirror with a picture of you modeling a satin baldonétte bra and high waisted panties. You looked beautiful and seductive and its been hard for him to not just stare at all your pictures since he got here. Now Yoongi is attempting to bring you up and he refuses to give in to the extent his relationship with you has gone.

You haven’t even spoken since the wedding and even that had just been an exchange of pleasantries and no real depth to either of your words.

“No, with my father,” Jungkook said stiffly as he shrugged off the suit jacket and called in the stylist to find something else. Yoongi sat up in his seat slightly more interested, “Really? About what? Don’t tell me you're back in the running.”

“We're going to discuss it,” Jungkook mumbled to himself.

He wanted to make one thing clear, his decision to seek out his father and work out some sort of plan where he can get back into the job he had been assigned to do, while also having freedom had absolutely nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re here, and he’s interested in you, and that it would be his parent’s dream for him to stay and be in a relationship with you and also take over the business finally…

This was his decision because his brother’s right. He can't just keep running away.

“And what do you mean, with Y/n?” Jungkook asked, clearing his throat awkwardly as he glanced up at your five foot photo framed above the mirror, remembering the shape of your body against his, moaning his name and tightening your walls around him.

“Haven’t you heard the rumors?” Youngi asked as he got on his phone, “It seems as though you have competition.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told more as he took Yoongi’s phone from his outstretched hand and read what was on the screen with furrowed brows.

At the end of the article, in big, fat letters, the conclusion said: ‘Now the question is, will L/n choose the best friend, Park Jimin, or the elegant and influential Best Man, Jeon Jungkook—possibly as the country’s newest IT couple?’

When he gave Yoongi his phone back, there was no denying the sudden irritation that contorted his features. It’s not like he expected this to not happen but… he doesn’t like what they’re implying. Yoongi studied him closely to see if he would get a response, but Jungkook gave nothing away. Instead he just ordered the tailor to pack the two suits he tried on so he could buy both, “I’ll meet you out there.”

Yoongi left Jungkook to get changed and while he stood alone in the fitting room staring up at your boudoir photos framed around him, he took his phone and dialed your number.

“Hello?” Your end of the call sounded hectic, louder and busier than his did. You were in the middle of an interview for Vogue and were taking a short break. It seemed like he called at just the right time since you were getting your makeup touched up.

“Are you busy?” Jungkook asked with a sharp tone that fell on deaf ears when the call went silent for a moment. He really did admire the photo of you, remembering just what it was like to trace his hands along your figure.

“Who is this?” You finally asked, making his jaw clench slightly.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh you see, I wouldn’t have known that considering you didn’t even say a hello or anything,” You told him in a sarcastic tone that made him want to smile but also roll his eyes, “Besides, I am busy.”

As if on cue, the call of your name in the background made your claim concrete. He bit his lip in thought, wondering what it was you were doing and how long it would take, “When can I see you?”

A smile played on your lips as you held up a finger to your assistant who was trying to hurry you along, “Did you make an appointment with my assistant?”

He couldn’t help but scoff as his gaze turned toward a glare, practically imagining that picture of you smiling at him, “I didn’t know I needed one, darling. When can I schedule one?”

“I’m not sure, i'll let you know,” you said and before Jungkook could respond, the call ended and he was left in shock that you just hung up on him. He gathered his things and met Yoongi outside to pay, completely bewildered by the fact that you just hung up on him so easily. He knows you haven’t spoken since the night of the wedding where you were forced to speak but this is all he gets?

“What took you so long?” Yoongi asked as they left Dolce & Gabbana with new things.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: Appointment scheduled for, 6:30 pm today, L/n Residence @ the Northbrook Estates

Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief at the confirmation of an appointed meeting with you tonight.

The night on the yacht had been unexpected yet also long-awaited and now that its done with, neither of you seemed to know what to do about it. You wont lie and say you didn’t enjoy that moment with him but you were also realistic. You and Jungkook would just never work out, you’re too different on the outside and that’s why you’re so confused now as to why he called you.

“So, Y/n, its been a busy season for you this year,” an interviewer said as the camera zoomed in on your expression as they continued, “Not only did you walk thirteen shows but I hear you also celebrated your close friends wedding. How was that? You must have been exhausted.”

“You know it was a lot but it was exciting, I hold my friends dearly and I’m just thankful I was able to make time for such an event,” you said and you’ll admit your response sounded scripted. You didn’t dive too deeply which is what you’re sure the interviewer wanted. You should have known that this stupid interview wouldn’t just be about your newly established modeling career.

Whether you’ve become Model of the Year for your catwalk, or for nepotism, you didn’t are much either way. All you cared about was the fact that the interviewer has found a way to slip in questions they didn’t need to know. It’s like you can just sense the things they’ll ask and have already prepared and calculated the exact responses you need to give.

“Of course, and what a star-studded party,” the interviewer continued, “The Best Man being Jeon Jungkook must have been exciting for you.”

“Well, we’ve all known each other for a long time now so…” You cleared your throat, looking a bit disinterested.

“Yes, of course,” the interviewer said with a nervous laugh, “And pardon me, Y/n, but I just have to ask, did anything happen between the two of you on this very intimate trip?”

Your smile strained but you never looked anything less than sweet as you said, “We are all just very close friends. Most of them have supported me in modeling.”

It was a clear attempt on your part to direct the conversation back to what it was supposed to be about. She ignored your last comment and said, “So… I guess we’re all curious, some pictures from the parties were released of the two of you awfully close in certain open waters, and an evident hickey on his neck—not to mention the matching clothes, please, is there something between you and the heir of Jeon Corporation?”

“Nothing that should concern you, no,” you smiled sweetly and the interviewer seemed to freeze up, unsure if she had gone too far in her questions.

Silence filled the space around them and there was no way to cut these parts out since it was a video shoot and after a while of the interviewer struggling to find which questions to ask, a person who worked for you stepped forward, “How about another short break?”

The interviewer released a shaky breath while the both of you made your way off camera and your glam team was quick to touch up your hair and makeup as the director of the shoot approached you, “Y/n darling, how are we feeling?”

“Annoyed,” you answered honestly, “I thought this was supposed to be about my modeling.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling, we apologize for any mistake we’ve done on our part, I—She must have taken it as an opportunity to ask her own questions and I promise you, we will have a deep conversation about this. We aren’t TMZ…” the director said and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m done filming if she’ll be the one continuing the interview,” You told him as you began to walk away from him, not caring for the excuses or whatever and you can hear your publicist repeat your words to him.

It wasn’t even that she was bad at her job or that she asked anything too deep but she just quickly got on your bad side with her persistence to not let the subject drop.

In the end you got your wish and filming ended smoothly before you were driven away to whatever was next in your schedule, trying not to think about the interview or the fact that there was a chance you would be seeing Jungkook later.

Things are evidently strange between you two and its not like you’ve been blind to the articles or posts about you but you don’t want to address anything. That night on the yacht seems like a fluke and like it shouldn’t have happened at all despite how you felt in the moment. Your parents aren’t the type to be invested in what is put in the tabloids but when their lifelong, country club going, friends call them and ask if there’s anything between you and Jeon Corporation’s Jungkook, they’re going to want answers.

It was just one night, one night where the two of you put aside whatever indifference you had toward each other just so you could release tension and this is the consequence for that. Of course everyone would want to know and of course no one was able to turn a blind eye to you. Even Yeonwoo managed to ask what you had been doing in the cabins withJungkook or so long that night and even when you tried to ignore her she kept pressing you for an answer.

In truth you had nothing to say. You were both adults and it didn’t matter if anyone else was dying to know if there was anything going on between you.

You resented each other.

You had sex.

Plus, he’s going to leave soon and you don’t think that bothers you?

When your driver pulled up to the tall skyscraper you called home, you headed inside alone.

“Good evening, Miss L/n,” the lobbyist held the door open for you, “You have a visitor waiting in the lobby.”

Your brows furrowed, checking the time before heading to the library where sure enough, Jeon Jungkook was sitting by the fireplace reading whatever magazine was set out for him. At the sound of your Miu Miu kitten heels, he turned staring at you with his big rounded eyes being the only thing you could see beside his face mask, “You’re early.”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist as he pressed his lips to your cheek in greeting and you did the same, he joined you in the elevator and said, “I like to get to my appointments early.”

“You’re lucky my shoot ended early or else you might have had to wait outside like a dog,” you teased as you pushed the button for the top floor where your penthouse was located. As part of the infinite amount of wealth your family has, you also dabble in real estate, mostly in the country as luxury apartments but you do have some homes overseas: Paris, New York, Argentina, etc.

The place you call home is a top floor penthouse with terrace and rooftop. The floor in which it was located was completely shut off for just you and included a private gym, yoga studio, three walk-in closets, and on top of that an elevator parking garage with a Mary Kay Pink Rolls Royce sitting pretty inside it.

Jungkook has never stepped foot in your home before and it was overwhelmingly stunning with four bedrooms, two living rooms (one on the top floor and one on the main floor too), an open kitchen, poolside terrace, and five bathrooms. You lived in ultimate modern luxury with traditional themes throughout the home like its hand carved wooden furniture and expensive marble walls.

“Is this different from your little magic treehouse in the woods you ran off to?” You asked, tempted to push his buttons as you removed your coat and handed it to your housekeeper who waited at the door.

“Well, considering my magic treehouse is worth 2.6 million dollars, no I wouldn’t consider this that different from it,” Jungkook couldn’t help but boast, feeling like he’s competing. It’s like when he was in school and the students would brag about whatever exotic trip they got to go in the summer and he would have to make sure to tell them what he did was better. “Maybe I’ll bring you with someday.”

Fuck. Why did he say that? Why is he indulging in any of this in the first place? You and Jungkook should never be together, right?

“Speaking of which, I thought you would have ran off now that the wedding is over,” You said as you mumbled something to the housekeeper making her leave, “Drink?”

“Water is fine,” Jungkook said as he made his way down to your 70’s inspired talking pit of suede Anabei sectional couches, “And I thought I would have been gone by now too”

“What changed?” You skied curiously, “Don’t tell me it's because you would miss me.”

You held your hand to your chest as if to seem touched by the thought and Jungkook just rolled his eyes as you continued, “How would all the other girls feel knowing I’m keeping you here?”

Jungkook scoffed as he practically pushed your legs off his lap, “Can you not joke for just one second?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if part of you felt confused wondering if this was supposed to be a serious moment or not. Jungkook huffed, running his fingers through his black hair, “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you about all those articles. My parents are working on taking those down, are you okay?”

Your eyebrows knitted together with confusion, “Me? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’ve never seen anything bad written about you and suddenly you’re being painted as a two-timer by spending a night with me while also… doing whatever it is you do with that friend of yours.” He was not jealous. He swears.

To be clear, there really is nothing going on with you and Jimin. You’re just two friends in the modeling world who happen to like attending secret parties together and maybe making out drunkenly every now and then. That’s it. You’ve never slept with him and Jimin has too many girls on his line for you to ever consider him.

“I’ll survive,” You mumbled as you looked over at him, seeing him in deep thought.

“I’m thinking of staying a while longer,” Jungkook said suddenly with a clear of his throat.

Jungkook was not the shy type and to be honest he’s not even sure why he’s letting you know [as if it made a difference] but the words just slipped out.

He did not like you.

Well, he didn’t like you like that. It sounds harsh he’s well aware of that but he was never romantically attracted to you before so how is he going to suddenly feel that way after only a week in contact again. Maybe it was just unresolved sexual tension after years of feeling that way but that can’t be the only thing that’s making him want to revert back to what his life was like before he left to live on his own.

He escaped all this so that he could live somewhere quietly and do what he really wanted to do without worrying about anything else. Now he’s contemplating moving back and possibly involving himself with his father’s business again. Too much is going on for him to understand why.

“For how long?” you asked as your fingers began to softly run through the ends of his hair making him look at you. You couldn’t hide your curiosity and how close the two of you are.

When he had pulled you down to sit with him, it was with your legs thrown over his lap which he had been caressing every now and then.

An arrogant smirk formed on his lips as he licked them, tapping your calf lightly, “How long do you want me here?”

Fuck, Jungkook is staying to get back in business… not for you.

It’s not for you.

It’s not for yo—

His breath hitched as a sudden weight shifted to his lap, his hands immediately went to your waist, helping you get comfortable on him. It’s embarrassing the way Jungkook didn’t hesitate to reach for you when you sat on his lap feeling your arms thrown around his neck, “Here as in…”

You looked down at the short skirt you wore which rolled up a little from how your legs straddled his thighs and said, “Under me?”

A scoff in disbelief left his lips as he couldn’t help but laugh, sliding your hips closer, “Yeah.”

It was attractive the way your conversations never seemed to fall unless you wanted them to. It was a constant cat and mouse game, banter back and forth and he catches on quickly.

You couldn’t help it, okay. Anytime you would see pictures of Jungkook since he left, he was always in a hoodie and sweats or something that just hid his entire body. Right now he’s wearing this Christian Dior white button-up shirt [which he rolled the sleeves up at some point since he got here] and it was messily untucking from his black slacks and he looks so hot right now. His hair was messy in a sexy way and he looked just like he used to, except this time with tattoos and a different sense of maturity.

Without wasting another moment debating if you should or shouldn’t, you leaned down and kissed him. Jungkook’s lips parted against yours, stretching his neck to kiss you with more need. Unlike the first night you kissed, this one wasn’t as rushed and angry. He took his time longer, pulling your bottom lip between his and doing it over again.

You pressed your chest against his, with your tongue swiping against his lip teasingly until you met his. Jungkook’s hands pinched the satin fabric of your skirt, feeling it tighten and rise, unable to stop the growing desire he was feeling for you. His briefs were getting tighter every time you shifted on his lap and whatever he had been thinking before you started making out.

“You want to play?” He asked, shifting his head to deepen the kiss without bumping noses. You pulled away feeling desperate to catch your breath as his kisses began to travel down toward your exposed neck, licking and nipping under your jaw while beginning to make

“Maybe,” you sighed in pleasure, running your hands through his hair when you felt him kiss down your collarbone, closer and closer down the deep-v in your Miu Miu chiffon top. The strap to your shirt slipped down your shoulder as Jungkook’s rough fingers traced down the side of your arms.

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to go back to kiss your lips as you felt his growing erection press into you. It was hard for him to ignore the fact that the only thing covering what was under your skirt was a flimsy, thin piece of lace he shifted you closer until his bulge was tucked between your legs, placing your hips right over where he wanted them to be. Now that he moved you, his outline was more evident and had you grinding along him.

Jungkook released a groan with a sharp breath once he felt that sudden move and he couldn’t help but buck his hips against you, feeling the fabric of his briefs constrict his hardened cock. It was a frustrating feeling yet he felt so eager with his tongue down your throat and his covered dick tucked nicely between your covered folds that he couldn’t even think to stop and remove the layers.

His lips were feeling swollen against yours yet he didn’t want to pull away, the friction he was getting from the way you humped him was turning him on with how needy it felt. You kissed along his jaw, grinding against his aching dick while your nimble fingers began to unbutton his shirt.

“God damn,” Jungkook groaned as he threw his head back, relishing in the way your hips moved expertly against him while kissing down his naked chest. He slid his ass down your back, stopping over your butt and pulling your skirt out of the way for him to get a better feel of you underneath. With firm hands, he turned your sensual grinding into harsher and more deep movements that he met with his hips.

He’s not sure he could take just this any longer. Anytime he’s with you now it’s like he can’t do anything but fall for you and despite how annoying it is, he doesn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, he welcomes it and right now all he wants to do and rip off the remaining layers between you so he could have your legs wrapped around him once more. It’s only been days since the first time and he has not been able to stop thinking about it.

The day of the wedding he had been so distracted by you that he barely remembers any of it and now his best friends are on their honeymoon and he’s here thinking about you again.

Giving up on arguing how much he wants to have you, he wanted to get your clothes off and you were letting him. His hands had barely made it to the end of your top, ready to pull it off, when a loud ringtone cut through the living room, echoing off the walls and hard to ignore. The two of you looked at each other confused.

He sat up, reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone, annoyed that someone had thought to call him.

“Answer,” you said breathlessly as you looked at the caller, already sliding yourself off his lap.

“It’s just Hobi,” Jungkook said, letting out a huff in annoyance as he set his phone back down, turning to kiss you but it rang once again. Your eyes met his and he begrudgingly grabbed his phone and swiped to answer, “Hello?”

“Hey man, I just got off the phone with your Yoongi,” Hoseok said as he sat in a large closet filled with designer clothes, “And why am I always the last to know if you’re leaving or not?”

“What?” Jungkook looked visibly annoyed with his scrunched brows and tense jaw and for some reason that made him hotter to you. His shirt was undone completely and his belt was halfway pulled off and with his legs spread, it was very hard to ignore his hard on.

Your eyes softened with curiosity and you couldn’t help but bite down on your bottom lip as you decided to just go for it. First, your hand rested on his thigh as he listened to whatever Hoseok said, but slowly you made your way toward his bulge.

“You’re gonna start working with your dad again?” Hoseok asked, unaware of the way Jungkook’s attention had drifted down to the palm of your hand, right over his dick. Your fingers pressed against the underside of his member, massaging your palm into it and feeling the way his hips raised. “What happened to not caring about the money and the company and all that blah blah blah?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes, snapping back to his friend instead of what was going on. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, tightening their grip as if in warning. It was a useless attempt considering he tried helping you pull his belt off and saying, “Come on man, it was never like that.”

He could hear his own tone falter somewhere between lying and having his cock free from the confines of his tight briefs with your hand feeling him.

Hoseok laughed, debating what suit he should wear, “No, it’s exactly like that.”

Jungkook’s hand went to your head, softly caressing you as you kissed down his navel, your hand wet with spit, jerking him off while licking just above his dick. He didn’t bother with a response to his friend as he continued speaking anyway, “Is it true you and our princess are messing around? It’s all over the tabloids.”

Sarcasm was evident in Hoseok’s tone but Jungkook was too focused on your tongue licking up the length of his hard cock, wetting it with spit that made your hand movements smoother.

“Look I get it, you’ve had all this tension something was bound to happen but damn, why didn’t you tell me that either?” Hoseok asked with evident shock, unaware of the blowjob his friend was receiving on the other end. Your lips were wrapped tightly around his length and with your hand too, it was hard for Jungkook to keep his reactions to a minimum.

“Hobi, I—I, yknow I just,” Jungkook cleared his throat uncomfortably to hide an evident groan. He was beginning to fidget under your ministrations, especially when you squeezed under his cock, massaging his balls, “Sorry.”

“Sorry?! That’s all you gotta say after chewing me out for giving you condoms as a joke.” Hoseok was lying in a pile of Louis Vuitton suits on the floor, engrossed in his one-sided conversation, “Our friendship seems one-sided buddy. I thought when you came up to me… I thought, ‘Hey, maybe my good buddy Jungkook will get in this dandy hot tub with me’ but no, you know what you do instead? You ask where Y/n is! God I should’ve known—“

Jungkook threw his head back in a mixture of pleasure and obvious irritation that he couldn’t take it anymore. His finger pressed into the red button and the call was cut to end suddenly. As soon as his phone hit the couch, you pulled off his length with a deep huff for air, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“He’ll get over it,” Jungkook mumbled as he reached for your hand to pull you toward him, “Come here.”

“I’m not done,” you leaned away from the kiss he was trying to give you but his hand held your head in place, not caring to kiss the lips that had just been around his hard dick. Jungkook wasn’t as gentle as his need grew heavier and with a strategic pull at your top, it ripped down the back, “Jungkook!”

“What?” He asked with a giddy smile, tempted to be playful, “It was in my way.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to take your skirt off yourself and prevent another hazard while Jungkook finished undressing himself. “It was custom, asshole.”

Jungkook’s smile dropped with worry, lips parted in surprise until you burst out into a laugh and fell onto his lap, “You should see the look on your face.”

“Ha ha, don’t scare me like that,” Jungkook chuckled, “I was already thinking about the fortune I would have to pay to fix that.”

“Jungkook,” you ignored the fact that the two of you were naked, in the middle of an intimate moment and asked, “What did you mean earlier?”

“When?” Jungkook asked, caressing your leg, “About staying? Yeah, I’m serious.”

“You are?” You crossed your arms over your bare chest, “Why?”

“Why?” He was visibly taken back, “What do you mean why?”

“I mean… just a few days ago you were adamant on leaving right after the wedding and when you left the resort before everyone else we all kind of figured you had left but you’re here now and…” You took a deep breath in thought.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jungkook asked, sounding more hurt than he intended to. All this time pushing and pulling his feelings for how he felt about being here and seeing you was getting to him. He’s very aware how confusing he is and spending a night with you shouldn’t have changed his mind this quickly while he also refused to admit.

“We didn’t talk about what happened at the party,” you said suddenly, feeling Jungkook drape his shirt over your naked figure as the conversation shifted drastically.

“I know,” he dropped his head, “I’m sorry, I was really confused and I couldn’t tell what I was feeling or how you were feeling and I was mad and… I thought you probably didn’t care.”

“I mean, I didn’t,” you shrugged, “But because I figured it was just a one time thing since you were very obvious with how little you thought of me and now you’re saying you’re staying longer while visiting me at home and it just… I don’t get it.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Jungkook was in his slacks again, trying to fix whatever mess he might have made over time, “I just… I was just being dumb. I wanted to act like I wasn’t into you at all because I was mad at everyone else and it wasn’t fair that I took it out on you but I thought you didn’t like me either.”

“And you’re right, you were mean to me,” you nudged him with your foot, “So really, I shouldn’t even be in this position with you right now.”

Jungkook didn’t dare argue when you called him out, “You always pretended to hate me even when you’d get jealous if someone else talked to me and you could never take your eyes off me.”

His brows furrowed, reminded of the trip and how everyone always joked that he wanted you when he was so stubborn on saying he didn’t. He didn’t like how predictable his life was.

“Because I knew everyone thought you were perfect,” Jungkook tried pulling you toward him, “And they didn’t know how you liked to push my buttons and say things you knew would get to my head and how you were actually so unbelievably perfect that it pissed me off everytime I let you get to me.”

“Don’t sweet talk me now,” you teased when he leaned over to lay between your legs, content with the sight of you in his Dior shirt, “How are you gonna repay me for being such a dick?”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook admitted, “Say the word and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I have everything I want,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Come on Y/n, don’t make this hard on me,” he whined playfully, “Everyone else is already making it hard and I just want to spend the night with you. I’ll let you use me.”

Your brow raised and with a soft laugh you pulled him toward you for a kiss, “I get to use the Jeon Jungkook? What will everyone say?”

“That they saw it coming,” Jungkook chuckled as he pressed his lips to yours, “So don’t stop the inevitable.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your arousal from earlier slowly make its return, “You’re so spoiled.”

“I know.”

Jeon Jungkook now knows what an awful liar he’s been these last couple of years. All of this talk about wanting to be different, break free from his family’s influences and the world of money and power, was meaningless in the end. He tried, he really did but his rebellion of running off and doing whatever he pleased, refusing to acknowledge the company, the wealth and the people in it was short lived because he never actually wanted to escape it.

He was still going to be friends with the people he grew up with and fall back to his old routine of country clubs and parading on yachts or private islands.

He was still going to take over his share of his father’s company and dress himself up in designer Kiton suits that he used to despise wearing.

He was still going to fall for you, the person he despised simply for being an exact reflection of himself. You were perfect for him in every way on paper and that made him want to push you away but in the end, he still fell for you like he knew he would.

Some people dream about having the life he does, or growing up the way he did and yet here he was selfishly wishing it all away. It was perfect, it was so insanely perfect and unfair that Jungkook ever thought he wouldn’t be happy with what he had been handed down to him for simply being born.

“This person gathered valuable experiences in the world and has shown such a strong will to portray it all into commitment for the company and that makes me a proud father,” A deep voice spoke from behind a podium with an echoing mic that had the attention of over a hundred people, “Please, welcome the newest V.P. for Jeon Corporation, my youngest son, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook had an arrogant smile on his lips as he walked onto stage, thanking everyone for congratulating him on his quick and easy advance in the company—even surpassing his older brother.

“Honestly, it is a big thank you to everyone close to me, for helping me see how ready I am to step into this role and fulfill my duty as a member of this corporation,” Jungkook said confidently, looking at all his friends who had a mixture of confused yet knowing smiles on their faces.

“What a brat,” Hoseok joked with Namjoon, “And I blame you for this.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen someone get pulled back into the country’s good graces so easily,” Namjoon laughed, remembering all the articles about how my ridiculous Jungkook was for publicly stating he would never be a part of the company.

“That’s because he’s spoiled,” Jungkook’s older brother chimed in, “Even after he says he’s gonna walk away from it, he’s still gonna be welcomed back with open arms.”

Taehyung released a playful sigh, “I want to be Jeon Jungkook when I grow up, the perfect life just handed to me and I’m just too blind to appreciate it.”

“Tae, you’re rich,” Yeonwoo whispered to him, Taehyung grinning at her reminder and sitting up straighter.

“How was it?” Jungkook asked his friends as he looked around the table.

“Well rehearsed,” Taehyung gave him the thumbs up, “Also, where’s Y/n? I thought she’d be here.”

Jungkook checked the time on his watch, his leg already bouncing underneath the table, “Yeah, I thought so too.”

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal to him. This was all just some flashy way for his father to make Jungkook’s debut in the business widely anticipated and you had other things to do than be here. The two of you aren’t even officially together yet so it’s not like you owe it to him or anything.

“Y/n,” Jimin whined as he watched the valet open the limo door for you, “Please don’t ditch me. I’m your best friend, imagine how much fun we could be having. Everyone’s going to ask where you ran off to after the dinner.”

“Well you can tell them,” you hurried to finish applying your lip gloss, “That I had more important things to do than get drunk at some fashion party.”

“Right, just throw me to the side like I mean nothing,” Jimin said dramatically, “Is this how you treat friends now?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was only trying to cause a scene. Jimin knew you would be calling it an early night but he just wanted it to be difficult. With a small sigh, you double checked that you looked fine in the mirror and said, “Okay, wish me luck, I’m hoping I get laid tonight.”

“I also hope you get laid tonight so that I don’t have to listen to you talk about how much you want to see him,” Jimin said as you made your way out the car, “Goodnight.”

By the time you got to the banquet, the cameras had been long gone from the entrance and so you were able to make your appearance quietly. You would have been here earlier if there hadn’t been an ambassador dinner tonight that you had already agreed to do before Jungkook decided on staying and you just couldn’t miss it.

You felt bad because Jungkook had asked you to come be his date but he understood why you couldn’t make it right away. If anything he should be happy that you hurried over from dinner to the banquet without an outfit change. Despite the number of attendants, it was really a private affair with only a couple people from the press but nothing too grand and over the top. It made arriving late less miserable and finding Jungkook and your friends much easier.

And when you first involved yourself with Jungkook in this way, you should have known it wouldn’t all be easy. You were now somewhat seeing the most eligible bachelor in the country and nobody knows about it aside from speculation. Speculation won’t stop spoiled rich girls who want him to themselves and that’s what you saw when you found him.

“It’s so great to have you back Kooky, it’s like… the best thing to ever happen,” some girl gushed at him from the once empty seat to his left. She seemed unaffected by the stares she received from around the table and didn’t care at all that Jungkook wasn’t even glancing her way. He doesn’t know her, she’s probably just the daughter of some wealthy couple who thinks she has a chance with him.

Jungkook stared forward, watching his friends’ faces as their eyes softened, no longer listening to the girl who said, “Maybe we can get together some time.”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, soft lips brushing against his ear as you said, “Maybe we can get together some time too.”

There was no denying the smile that grew on his face as he turned to look at you and how close you were to him. Jungkook’s lips parted in pleasant surprise, ready to talk to you when someone else spoke up.

“Excuse us, sweetheart,” Namjoon said to the girl, “It seems our table is full, maybe you can try somewhere else?”

She left with an annoyed scoff, making room for you to sit down, “Sorry I’m late, did any of you miss me?”

You had a sweet smile on your face, a camera clicked somewhere else in the distance surely capturing how close you were to Jungkook specifically, who was tracing his hand along your thigh.

“Dearly,” Jungkook said as he leaned into you for a quick kiss on the lips, “Thanks for coming.”

“I told you I’d try and make it,” you said to him, “I missed the speech didn’t I?”

“It was nothing special,” Jungkook’s hand began to slide down the space between your legs—or at least as far as your dress would let it, “Just the usual talk about how amazing I am, it was all very boring.”

“But I love talking about you,” Your tone was sarcastic yet flirty, your hand falling over his in warning when he began to pull up your dress just a little. You were sitting at a table with a large draped tablecloth that hid your legs underneath but you were still very aware of the fact that your friends were all around the table.

“Y/n,” Hoseok called for you from across the table, “How does it feel to have the Jeon Jungkook wrapped around your finger?”

Jungkook turned to his friend with a harsh glare, knowing he was just poking fun at it all but still managing to get under his skin. You looked at Jungkook with a knowing grin, “Like nothing I didn’t expect.”

He scoffed, squeezing your thigh possessively, “I think the feelings are mutual, darling.”

You leaned into him, not caring for being around so many important people with cameras trying to capture whatever moment they can, “They are.”

::.

a/n omg it took me literally forever to write this and idk how I feel about it but yknow what 😭it’s finished and that’s what matters. I was in the mood for some rich kdrama feel fic and I hope I managed to pull that off at least a litttlleeeeeeere

thanks for everyone that waited patiently and please feel free to lmk what you think <3

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @skzthinker @unnatae @beautywine @lilliankoo @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @dream-cvtcher @jksjx @kissyfacekoo @joyjunk @caro134340lina @hyunjinswifeee @oldermenluverrr @caro134340lina @olivialeesstuff [taglist is too long so I’ll have to make two versions of it]

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xiaowhore · 6 months ago

Text

happily ever after.

premise. perhaps in your last life, you wished for an extraordinary romance; a once-in-a-lifetime encounter, a dashing prince to kiss your hand, and an eternal love that could only be found in fairy tales. now, as you acknowledge that this story is not yours, your greatest desire is to remain out of the limelight while you watch your dearest protagonist twirl in the ballroom with the man of her dreams.

and just like every other time, fate has other plans.

word count. 7.8k

note. i honestly thought i wouldn't be able to finish this, but here we are. i hope you enjoy!

“The duke of Marechaussee is looking for a bride!”

The news spread far and wide, each new piece of gossip shared through word of mouth more convoluted than the last. But the gist of it essentially remains true—the reputable head of the most prestigious duchy in Fontaine, Neuvillette, whose abstinence from marriage had nobles speculating his intentions to practice celibacy, has now unfounded those rumors.

For others, this is an opportunity. For you, this is a cause for a headache.

Let's have a brief recount of your second life thus far. Ten years ago, you found yourself in a body that was not yours, one that was far too dainty and sickly for your liking. You were born to a powerful aristocratic family, your father bearing the title of Marquess. It was your greatest joy to find this new family of yours was loving and affectionate, bursting into tears of relief upon your return to consciousness the very first time you opened your eyes in this world. You were told you had nearly fallen to disease, and your parents spared no effort in finding the most knowledgeable doctors across the continent. Their embrace was incredibly warm, hands clutching your small body so tightly as if once they let go, you would be lost to the winds.

And, well. As far as you’re concerned, it isn't the worst life to live in. Your eldest brother is almost overbearingly protective, but he’s beyond considerate and cared for you greatly. Your second brother isn't honest to a fault, and you heard he often played tricks on you before, but ever since your worst fit of sickness, he's been incredibly careful in his treatment around you.

Life passed peacefully like this, adored and doted on by your beloved family. To repay their kindness, you wish to aid your eldest brother in the future and pursue your studies, but your parents assure you you don't have to do anything you don't want—including being bound by marriage.

For any other aristocratic family, it is a daughter's duty to secure a beneficial relationship with other houses of similar prestige. But your family spoils you rotten, and they hold no greed; why would they wish for more power when they already have everything they could possibly want in the kingdom as a Marquess family?

It is for that reason you are able to avoid the biggest red flag that could potentially lead to your demise: the engagement with the House of Marechaussee.

With how much you used to read webtoons and played otome games with the “I died and woke up in the romance novel I used to read” premise, you aren't all that surprised to realize you found yourself in that very situation. What did surprise you is the lack of daddy issues, and how easy you have it as a villainess.

You woke up in the world of “My Royal Darling,” an otome game with a plot as creative as its title. Cliche as it is, you ate that shit up back in your previous life and knew the story like the back of your hand. Your character [Name] Silva mainly appeared in the duke's route, a villainess who loved him deeply for his kindness and gentleness beneath his cold facade. As far as villainesses went in this game, you are certainly not the worst; the girl in the prince's route actively schemed against the protagonist and received a befitting punishment as a result. The worst [Name] Silva did was beg her doting parents for an engagement with the duke and use her sick sob story to garner pity.

All you have to do is avoid the duke at all costs, and you won't be part of the drama at all.

...That was what you thought before you went ahead and befriended the protagonist. Goddamn it.

“The duke is searching for a bride-to-be. Can you believe it?” Lumine giggles in all her protagonist glory, twinkling laughter as pleasant as the song of birds. Her etiquette is impeccable as ever, starting from her straight posture down to the elegant curve of her fingers as she raises her cup to sip tea. Her dress is not nearly as intricate as yours, the difference between your status glaringly apparent, but it's easy to envision her as a perfect princess. It would soon come to reality, you realize.

“And because of that, just about every girl I know is flocking to tailor shops to prepare for the social season.” You grimace, picking up a chocolate cake from the cake tower laid before you. You are currently having tea with Lumine in your rose garden, a bi-monthly arrangement where you shared gossip and traded information. “I fear I will be ridiculed for not following the latest trends soon. All of the shops are probably too busy to accommodate my order.”

“You must be joking. Who would dare refuse you?” Lumine shakes her head. “And even if they dressed up to the nines for the duke, they couldn't possibly compare to you.”

“I'm not trying to gain his favor,” you counter, poking at a strawberry on your plate. “I simply want new additions to my wardrobe, and the banquet hosted by the imperial family is coming up soon. My parents indulge me, but even I can't skip out on it.”

To avoid the love interests as much as possible, you minimize the frequency you go out to parties. Using your weak constitution is enough of an excuse to decline the invitations that pour out in the mail each day. But refusing an invitation from the imperial family is equivalent to a death sentence to your social standing, and even the protectiveness of your older brothers couldn't spare you from that.

If you have it your way, you absolutely would not go. The royal ball is where the official story starts, the prologue to a fairytale romance. All the love interests will be present, and the routes will branch out according to who Lumine will choose to talk to. Though you have no idea who Lumine will pick and you’re certain you were already ruled out as a villainess character ever since you made yourself her close confidant, you don't want to take on any risks. Alas, reality is unkind. You suppose you'll just see it as an opportunity to see the drama up close.

“Forget me, do you already have something to wear?”

“That is...” Lumine appears to be forlorn. “I plan to wear a dress I've worn before. We deemed it more favorable than purchasing a new dress I'll only wear once in my life. Besides, I doubt anyone would remember me wearing it already.”

She places too much faith in people. Nobles thrive on gossip—they find every possible flaw in everyone to gain leverage over them, and you've seen them ridicule Lumine in the game enough times to know. As the daughter of a humble Baron, she's already being picked on by the upper ranking ladies. If she goes to the banquet hosted by the imperial family wearing a gown that's already fallen out of trend, you have no doubt she will be regarded with derision.

But you won't allow that to happen.

“Do you have time this afternoon?” You smile. Lumine tilts her head in confusion yet nods nonetheless. “Let's find you a dress in the commerce street. We'll test out that theory of yours that they won't refuse me.”

Immediately, her eyes widen. She knows what you're planning. This is far from the first time you would be treating her. “No, it's fine! We don't have to go there!”

“Oh, c'mon, Lumine. Your birthday is coming up. Just think of it as me giving you your birthday present a few weeks in advance.”

At that, her shoulders slump. This is not the first time, and so she knows well there's no arguing with you once you put your mind into something. “If you insist so much…” She tries for a grateful smile, but it looks more guilty. When will she accept that she deserves nice things like this and so much more?

Just like Lumine said, you shot up the priority list of the tailor shop without much of a fuss. You make her try on numerous dresses, forbidding the tailors from telling her how much they cost if she ever asks. You end up choosing a pale blue dress that accentuates her good figure and complements her skin, and you manage to grab a couple of matching jewelry when she isn't looking.

Hopefully soon, you think as you begin to scarf down what remains of the cake tower, eager to go shopping. If she goes with the prince route, he’ll give her an entire castle. I should probably tell her about that cage in the basement from the yandere bad ending, though.

Lumine looks good in everything anyway, so it isn't a very time-consuming affair. You even have some time left to check out the merchant stalls before curfew arrives and you have to send her to a carriage back home.

“I don't know about you, but I'm craving some donuts.” You're raring to go to the best bakery in town, and Lumine laughs at your eagerness. Your family never looked upon fried food kindly, and you only have a chance of eating them when you're not within their supervision.

“Aren't you full from the pastries we ate earlier?”

“Hardly.” You grab onto your inconveniently long dress, prepared to race. “Come on, Lumine, we better hurry up before they run out!”

In your haste however, you fail to notice a child walking towards the opposite direction as you. She crashes to your leg, the impact sending her to the ground. You gasp, wasting no time in crouching down to her eye level and helping her up, uncaring of how the hem of your dress slides against the dirty floor. “I'm terribly sorry! Are you hurt anywhere?”

You pat away the dirt on her skirt, searching for any sign of blood. “No, I'm okay! I'm sorry too, miss!” The girl does a little cute bow, one that would normally make you coo if only you didn't feel so guilty. When she gives you a reassuring toothy grin, eyes shining bright with innocence, you can't help but pat her on the head with your clean hand.

“Did you get lost? Where are your parents?” You bring out an embroidered handkerchief from your pocket, wiping her hands free of grime. Lumine scans the nearby area and notices a man running over.

“Mister!” The child exclaims happily, pointing at him. You look up at his direction, momentarily at ease, until you actually see who she's pointing to.

Apprehension pools at the pit of your stomach. The man is the very picture of someone that children should be taught to avoid. Draped in a dark cloak that conceals half of his face, his attire is practically the standard getup for kidnappers in an abduction scene, the type that says cheesy lines like “hand over the gold or I'll kill your girl right now” and ends up getting decked in the face by the prince that saves the heroine.

Before you can say anything, the little girl runs toward him, her arms outstretched for an embrace. The man is quick to lean down and cradle her in his arms, reprimanding the girl for his carelessness. The severity of his words is utterly lost when he's too busy scanning the child's body up and down in search of any injuries to be intimidating.

“Didn't I tell you not to run? You could get into an accident,” the man admonishes gently as he uses the napkin in the girl's hands to wipe away the remaining dirt on her palms. “Not everyone is as forgiving as this kind lady. Did you apologize to her?”

“No, it's fine, it was my fault,” you interject, doing a quick curtsy reflexively. “I got too excited about buying donuts that I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings.”

The man pauses when he gets a good look at you, making you shrink to yourself. You put on commoner clothes to blend with the crowd better, but you wonder if you have something incriminating of your status on you.

“Did you get hurt?”

You blink at the unexpected question. How could bumping into a tiny child cause you any injury? “...Not at all.”

His lips curl into a smile, still visible under the shadows of his robe. “Then that's a relief. We apologize for this incident. I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, but I'm afraid we have somewhere to be.”

“Oh, of course!” You laugh awkwardly, raising a hand to wave at the child. “Be safe on the way there.”

The older man bows his head and the little girl yells an endearing “farewell!” as she's carried away by her guardian, spinning on his heel to turn to their destination.

In doing so, you catch a glimpse of the ornate sword strapped to his waist. A silver dragon wraps around the hilt, its scales gleaming under the sun. The sapphires in its eyes are a deep blue, the color as vibrant as the sea, a contrast to the dull shade of its scabbard.

You swear you've seen that sword before.

“[Name], we should hurry. The sun will set soon.” Lumine snaps you out of your thoughts, reminding you of the direness of the situation.

“The lady was really pretty!” The little girl—Mamere—begins to ramble as she fiddles with the handkerchief you left her. She's walking on her own now, but the man makes sure to match her slower pace. “I thought she would get mad when I bumped into her, but her voice was so nice and soft. And she patted my head!”

“My donuts!”

“She was very kind,” the man agrees, remembering the genuine worry on your face when Mamere fell to the ground.

“But what do I do?” Mamere pouts, staring at the intricate embroidery on the napkin. “I don't know how to return this to her.”

Her companion hums. “I don't think she's expecting you to return it. Didn’t she give it to you?”

“But I feel bad…” Mamere admires the careful stitching, her fingers lightly tracing its shape. “It looks so beautiful… she must've worked hard in embroidering it, didn't she?” Suddenly, her eyes sparkle with realization, an idea popping into her mind. “Mister, if it's you, you can return it to her, right?”

The older man blinks. “I suppose so. However-”

The girl offers the handkerchief to him. “Please give this to her when you see her, Mister!”

Conflicted, he stares down at Mamere, but he eventually folds when she puts on her best puppy dog eyes. He takes the handkerchief from her hands, his thumb brushing over the meticulous embroidery.

Only a fool wouldn’t recognize the insignia of the Silva House.

A strong gust of wind pulls down the hood of his cloak, revealing long hair the color of moonlight. The golden hue of the sunset basks his pale skin in a bright glow, his eyes soft as he gazes upon the handkerchief.

“I have a good idea when I may see her next,” Neuvillette assures Mamere, causing her smile to brighten even more.

All too soon, the day of the imperial banquet arrives.

Though whether she wants to see me or not is a different matter.

Natully, your escort to the event is none other than your protective second brother, but you'd argue he's a better choice over the eldest who'd probably glare daggers at anyone who comes within five meters of your vicinity. It's not even like you have other men in your life aside from your family and the knights at your service.

You intend to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but the nobles' curious gazes still follow after your shadow. Consequences of your actions, you suppose. You managed to dodge that eventful first meeting with Duke Neuvillette since you knew you would bump into him at a social gathering, but you had to go through the extra mile to avoid attending every party you could skip because the game was so goddamn vague and only described the scene as “The lady of House Silva fell in love with the duke the moment her eyes landed upon him at a banquet.”

Thanks to that, you’re rarely seen by nobility and thus attained a ridiculous nickname along the lines of “the precious flower of Silva” for being thoroughly pampered by your family, hidden from the rest of the world. Embellished tales of your beauty spread across society, and you can only hope they weren't disappointed to see the real thing in the flesh.

Damn it, you think grimly, the downturn of your lips hidden beneath the intricate fan you've taken to using in order to hide your expression. It's hard to approach the buffet table when they're all staring at me like this.

Truthfully, you’re grateful all they're doing is staring. If not for your eldest brother’s protectiveness, you’re sure more than a crowd of men would be vying for your hand in marriage, flooding your house with mail and wedding offers. Your second brother is not so fortunate, pinned by pointed stares from all sides by unwed women waiting for the right moment to pounce on him.

He pinches the edge of your sleeve before you can attempt to sneak your way towards the buffet table. “And where exactly are you going?” Amazingly enough, his pleasing smile doesn't falter even as he grumbles out his admonishment, still as flawless as ever.

“To eat. The catering is wasted on you socialites, no one bothers to take a bite just to talk to other people.” You’ve learned a thing or two from your brothers, and so your own polite smile doesn't twist into something more fitting for the tone of your voice.

His mouth opens again, definitely some spiel about how you should try making other connections because as much as Lumine is pleasant company, she will not be of any help to your trading endeavors, but a girl adorned in frilly lace tries her luck in hitting on him and you slip away when he's not looking.

As expected, the feast on the buffet table is untouched. You help yourself to a few plates, searching for Lumine all the while. As per true protagonist fashion, she’ll arrive fashionably late at the banquet and bring attention to herself when the grand doors reveal her in a stunning dress. Had you not intervened, she would've gotten a pretty dress some way or another anyway—it’s bound by the law of the universe. In the original game, she helped an old lady cross the street and she turned out to be the owner of a high-end boutique.

But time goes by with no sight of familiar blond locks, and you’re getting pretty full from the steak served. You’re thinking about going to your brother to spare him from the women when someone approaches you, a series of footsteps gradually becoming more audible—from a respectable distance, of course, but near enough to know they came with a purpose. You stop yourself from sighing, taking a moment to collect yourself and school your expression into something more elegant.

Your efforts are rendered useless when your jaw immediately drops upon seeing the figure of the very person you were trying to avoid.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

Standing before you is Neuvillette himself, the crowd behind him parted like the Red Sea. He’s finely dressed, crisp suit accented with his House’s signature colors blue and gold, and his long hair is fashioned into a low ponytail that rests on the side of his chest. His intimidating air rivals that of the royal family, a commanding presence that drives people to bow to him at once. Yet this time, the crowd instead unashamedly stares at the spectacle the pair of you must make, both parties that are often absent in galas now crossing paths.

The etiquette lessons hammered into your body makes you curtsy in a show of respect, starkly contrasting the crude expletives roaring in your head as your eyes lock onto a vague figure behind him. It’s hard to meet his eyes. “Good evening, Your Grace. I believe this is our first encounter.” But I worked really hard to make it never happen, you know?!

In turn, Neuvillette bows his head in greeting. “Indeed. I’ve heard much about my lady, so I am glad I have the opportunity to meet you at last.”

The smile on your face twitches, the fabric between your fingers wrinkling under your tightening grip. “Pardon?”

“Your older brother is quite fond of you. He’s been telling me stories of your family whenever we have tea.”

Which brother is he talking about???

If it was your eldest brother, he would at least take care not to harm your clean reputation, but his gushing about his cute younger sister could be embarrassing. However, if it was your much more tactless, stupid brother who still holds a grudge over you eating the last tea cake given by foreign ambassadors from a neighboring country, he’d probably tell Neuvillette everything that would make your “precious flower of Silva” title entirely undeserving.

“A… haha… is that so…” you begin fanning yourself harder, trying to keep your nervous sweating at bay. Neuvillette turns his head, looking around your surroundings.

“I believe you were escorted by your brother. Is he preoccupied?”

The corner of your mouth curls into a slight smirk. “Certainly. Women have been trying to pique his interest since the banquet began.”

At that, Neuvillette’s smile turns wry. You’re sure he relates to that a little too much, the poor guy. Even at this very moment, there are countless women observing the situation, attempting to find the right chance to jump in the conversation and steal him away. Though you do feel bad for him, you’re also wishing to find a good opportunity to leave without looking rude. After all, in the possibility that Lumine happens to like him, you’d soon be acquainted with him as his significant other’s closest friend.

Just as you’re cheering on a lady that’s beginning to approach the duke, he starts speaking. “If that’s the case…” Bowing once more, he outstretches his arm gracefully, offering his hand. The sight looks like a sparkling CG, and you’re not sure if the flowers surrounding him are really there or if you're starting to hallucinate. “Would my lady mind if I escorted you for the time being?”

Your fanning hand comes to a sharp halt. “Pardon?” you say for a second time, sounding more disbelieved than the last.

“I happen to be in a similar predicament as your brother,” his voice lowers to a hushed tone. “Though we haven’t known each other for long, I hope you can lend me a hand.”

Why is this happening to me…

And as if his pleading tone isn’t enough, he tops it off with a charming smile truly befitting a love interest in a dating simulator. “I’d also like to take this opportunity to be closer to you, my lady.”

You bite back the urge to sigh, lest Neuvillette think you thought he was an utter bore as a dance partner. Really, he’s nothing like that–there’s no way getting to see that handsome face up close could ever be boring. He’s a nice partner, actually; he leads the dance in a way that makes you comfortable, and you’re no dance prodigy, but you feel like you can close your eyes and dance just as well as long as you follow his lead.

Another point of thrill is the incessant glares you can feel on your back. Truly, Neuvillette’s more ambitious fans are terrifying. As the one in charge of the territory covering the boundary between the kingdom and the land of monsters, Neuvillette must be used to frightening creatures, but lovesick women must be a whole ‘nother terror for him altogether for him to ask for your help to avoid them.

Still…

He’s the only person I’m trying to avoid at this place, and now I’m dancing with him. Haha. What am I even doing here?

You feel him squeeze your hand softly. “Is something on your mind?” Neuvillette’s voice breaks you out of your trance. You look up at him, noticing he looks worried.

“I apologize. I wasn’t paying attention.” You shake your head, giving him a small grin.

He frowns. “It’s not that. If you feel tired or unwell, please tell me.”

“I’m fine! Very much so!” You suddenly feel bad for cursing him, albeit indirectly, in your head. You understand why the original villainess liked him so much, but you should avoid interacting with him unless strictly necessary… once this dance ends. “I must say, Your Grace has quite the number of admirers. This is the first time I’ve been stared at so intensely by a crowd of women.”

He hums thoughtfully as you twirl away from him as part of the step sequence, and he catches your waist with ease when you return. “I could say the same for you. Gentlemen we pass by have been eyeing me with hostility ever since we started dancing.”

“What?” You look around the ballroom, making a sound of surprise when you see multiple nobles eyeing Neuvillette with some amount of envy and detestation. You’ve been so caught up with the attention Neuvillette’s been getting that you overlooked your share of trouble.

“The son of the viscount in particular seems to be the most eager to ask for a dance.” He averts his gaze to the man standing by the buffet table who’s been glaring at the pair of you pretty hard. Farthest thing from your type.

“I suppose I’ll have to find my brother when this song is over, then.”

Silence ensues in the remaining duration of the song, but it’s a comforting one. You’re not much of a talker anyway, and it’s hard to think of things to talk about when practically everyone in the audience is looking for a chance to steal both of you away from each other. Eventually, the last notes of the violin are played, and you finish the dance with bows of courtesy.

“Thank you for complying with my request.”

“It was nothing. I’m glad I could lend a hand.” Your eyes roam over the area, securing the shortest route to get to your brother. “Our encounter was brief, but you were truly pleasant company, Your Grace.”

You plan to leave it at that, the heel of your foot already spinning to turn in the opposite direction. Okay, good. That’s just an irregularity. It’s too bad I couldn’t completely avoid him, but as long as we don’t get too involved with each other, it should still be safe-

But then you feel a gentle hand wrap around the tips of your fingers. You turn back, the initial confusion wearing off to shock. Neuvillette is holding your hand. Neuvillette is holding your hand. Slowly, he brings it closer to his face, and for a moment, you think, Oh, his eyelashes are pretty long, before you feel him press a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You hear a gasp. Numerous, you correct yourself, on varying levels of shock. You hope that god-awful dramatic one didn’t come from you, but you aren’t too sure because the only things on your mind are Neuvillette’s hand around yours, his irresistible smile, and the words that leave his lips.

“If my lady doesn’t find my company disagreeable, would you consider meeting me on another occasion?”

In your time living as a noble, you’ve somewhat gotten used to speaking in formal language. In nobility terms, that’s basically Neuvillette asking you out on a date.

“...Pardon???”

Word spread quickly throughout the social network. That’s within expectations, knowing how nosy nobles can get. By the time the imperial banquet ended, everyone in attendance already heard that Neuvillette had taken interest in a woman, and that woman happened to be the daughter from the Silva family.

Objectively speaking, it isn’t a bad match. Both families have something to gain from a marriage union, which is why the original duke from the game agreed to the engagement in the first place.

Subjectively, however…

“I’ve gathered you all here today to have an important discussion.”

Presently, you are situated at the family dining table. As usual, there’s a heavenly feast spread out on the table, but all the food remains uneaten because there’s apparently a more pressing matter at hand.

“...The duke has spoken his intentions to court our [Name],” your eldest brother says grimly, hands locked together and placed under his chin.

“You’re overreacting, he just asked me if I wanted to meet him another time.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for the garlic bread appetizer. He promptly swats it away. “Hey!”

“That’s basically the same thing,” your second brother argues. “Not that I don’t like His Grace, but it’s so sudden. Nobody has caught his eye until now, and I find it hard to believe you’re the first one ever.”

“Now you’re just dissing me.”

“I don’t see why you’re all unhappy about this,” your mother cuts in, smiling pleasantly. “The duke is an honorable man, one of the few I think are deserving of our [Name]. If he shows his loyalty and dedication to her throughout the courtship, we’ll see how well he’ll treat her.”

“That is if [Name] likes him. If she doesn’t and he continues to bother her, I’ll have to step in, status aside.” Your ever protective father frowns as he slices the steak on his plate. “Do tell us if he’s making you uncomfortable, honey.”

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t go that far…”

The only issue you have with the duke is that he’s a love interest. In the original game, him and your character would have nothing to do with each other if it weren’t for the original you insisting on being engaged to him. You don’t know what happened to her in the bad endings, but the situation probably wasn’t ideal. You thought as long as you avoided him, you could steer clear of trouble…

But if he’s the one running after you, what are you supposed to do…?!

“At the very least, you don’t dislike him, do you?” Your second brother cocks up an eyebrow.

“Not really, no.”

“Then hypothetically, if he invited you for a boat ride in the town today, would you go?”

“Hold on a second!” Your eldest brother interrupts. “We still haven’t discussed whether or not he’s worthy of [Name] yet, have we?”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We need to discuss it in detail.”

“Discuss what? The duke’s abundant treasury, contributions to the war against the dragon lord, or his reputation of being a gentleman towards all women?”

“...There has to be something he lacks.”

“What he lacks is a wonderful, caring wife,” your mother says. “And if [Name] is interested in the duke, we shouldn’t get in their way. I know you’re worried, dear. [Name] has always been stuck in the house because she’s sickly, but if a man wants to take her out to have a fun excursion, you should let her. His Grace is also very considerate of the people around him. Surely, if he notices her feeling unwell, he’ll take care of her.”

I haven’t said anything about wanting to go on a date with him though?!

“Fine. I don’t disapprove of him, but��” Your brother eyes you warily. “You best be home before sundown.”

A day passes. You hear three knocks on your door. When you allow the servant to enter your room, a maid rushes to you in a hurry, a letter sealed with the insignia of the Marechaussee House in her hands.

“Brother, I haven’t even received an invitation yet…”

The cake tower in front of you is magnificent. The fresh fruits topped on whipped cream are vibrant pops of color, and the frosting is piped beautifully in intricate swirls and shapes. The cakes pair well with the tea served, too, and you’re already planning to bring Lumine here the next time you’re both free to talk about the imperial knight she ended up talking to at the banquet. That route is definitely your favorite and you can’t wait to hear about the details.

Damn it.

There’s nothing wrong with the food. This pastry shop has been making its rounds in the newspapers for its delectable new additions on the menu, and they didn’t disappoint your tastebuds.

Though you have to say they’d be a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t surrounded by women eavesdropping on your little meeting with Neuvillette.

“This strawberry shortcake is delicious,” Neuvillette notes. “I’m not too fond of sweets, but they taste great. You should give it a try.”

“Oh, yes, when I finish this one…” The mango cheesecake is to die for, but it’s kind of hard to swallow with the death stares pinpointed at your direction. You hope the pastry shop allows takeout. “Thank you for inviting me to come here, Your Grace.”

“I noticed you mostly ate desserts at the imperial banquet, so I thought you would enjoy trying the food here.” He’s smiling, but when he glances over at your unwanted audience, his eyes gloss over and appear colder. “I didn’t anticipate there would be many people today. I’m sorry for that.”

Some of the women visibly twitch. They weren’t exactly caught red-handed, but it does prove that they’re guilty. Someone probably saw us here and told everyone else… Gossipmongers are scary.

“This situation is out of your control, you don’t have to apologize. And, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something, so your invitation came at a good time.” You fiddle with the edges of your sleeve, plucking at the lace.

Sensing the mood, the duke places down his fork to give you his full attention. “What did you want to talk about?”

Well. Here goes nothing. “Um… your invitation back at the imperial banquet… are you referring to a friendly chat or…” It’s sorta hard to say “Do you want to date me?” straight to his face. In the small chance you’ve gotten the wrong idea, you’d hate to appear presumptuous, so self-absorbed to think the highly-praised Neuvillette fell for you of all people. Lumine, you’d understand–the girl has a knack for melting the coldness of your heart and taking down people’s walls, and it’s why you became friends with her despite the odds. You, though… Nothing specific comes to mind.

Unexpectedly, a soft chuckle reaches your ears. You raise your head, surprised to see Neuvillette laughing. It’s possibly the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. When he catches you staring, he composes himself, but the dazzling smile remains on his face. “I was certain I made my intentions clear, but I suppose I’ll have to be more forward next time.”

A flush crawls up to your cheeks, burning hot. “No, I swear I know what you mean- just making sure, you know? I mean, I wouldn’t want to assume the duke is interested in me without knowing for certain-”

You stop yourself from rambling, feeling you’ve said too much. Fuck. Is it just you or is Neuvillette’s smile a bit wider now? You stuff your stupid mouth with the shortcake he placed on your plate. It’s good. Your acting is very much not.

He clears his throat, getting back to business. “I understand you don’t see me that way. I would like to court you, but if you tell me to stop now, I will.”

Isn’t he backing off too easily? I mean it’s great he respects my decision, but if I turn him down now, it’d probably be bad for his reputation…

“Before we… have that discussion, I still have more questions to ask.” You sip on your tea to wash down the sweet taste on your tongue. It’s silent once you put the cup on the table. Placing your hands on your lap, you look directly into Neuvillette’s eyes, searching for an answer. “May I ask Your Grace why you took an interest in me?”

The silence persists for a few seconds more. It doesn’t seem like he’s thinking of the perfect words to swoon you over; he’s thinking about how to verbalize what he truly thought of you.

He opens his mouth after careful consideration. “...It began as curiosity,” he starts, tapping rhythmically on the table. “I had my own reasons for turning down invitations to parties, so I wondered what were yours.”

You swallow. Officially, you turned those down using your health as an excuse. But your constitution has improved greatly compared to when you were young, and evidently, you’re almost just as healthy as any person. At the very least, you’re not at risk of passing out or losing breath in the middle of an event anymore. He must’ve picked up on that.

“I’ve heard about you from other people. According to their words, you were ‘the loveliest flower’ in the kingdom, with unparalleled gracefulness and beauty… but your elder brother’s stories suggested otherwise.”

I’m kicking his ass when I get back home.

“And yesterday, I met you myself. I thought you differed from how they described you.” He pauses, drinking his tea. “I’ve heard many say you were quite the stoic character, always hard to read. But you make a lot of interesting expressions behind your fan. You don’t hide your true thoughts when you speak, or perhaps you’re simply bad at hiding them. I previously found your brother’s stories unbelievable, but now I can see that the colorful personality he was talking about wasn’t very far off.”

??? “Colorful personality”?? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

“...I understand.” You really don’t, but you won’t bother asking him for more details. Everything he said thus far lowkey sounds like a diss. “Let me rephrase my question, then.”

It’s okay. This isn’t unfamiliar territory, and you’re not stupid. Obviously, if you do different things from the original, the story will derail from its original course. That’s what always happens in transmigration manhwas, after all. You noticed that early before the plot could truly change. If so, perhaps you can control the amount of change that will happen.

You sit up a little straighter, eyes laser-focused on his reaction to what you’re about to say. “What are you after, trying to get closer to me?”

You know these tropes. If you give him what he needs, you can separate soon, no strings attached.

Neuvillette makes an expression of confusion, his brows knitted. “Your hand in marriage,” he says it like it’s the obvious answer.

“Not that! Is there anything you need help with?”

“I did say I was having trouble with the women at the banquet, but that was more of an excuse to talk to you.”

You sputter, “W-well, you need someone to fake-date or fake-marry then?” Fake-dating often leads to them actually dating, but if you’re careful, you can probably keep that from happening, right?

The furrow in his brow deepens. “I don’t want to use you to stop women from chasing me. I want to marry you.”

Goddamn it. Does this guy have his own set of dialogue choices and he keeps on picking the one that raises affection? “…Okay, I get it! You need something from my family! What is it? We don’t need to be married for me to help you.” You cross your arms triumphantly. That should do it.

Instead of agreeing, Neuvillette looks forlorn. “Lady [Name], is it really that hard to believe I want to marry you without something else in mind?”

Now Neuvillette looks like a kicked puppy and you’re solely to blame for it. Fuck!

You sigh, rubbing circles on your temple. “I just… fail to see why Your Grace is interested in me.” You’re not talking yourself down, nor do you have low self-esteem. You simply don’t recall doing anything that would make him fall for you at all. Logically speaking, there’s just no reason behind his actions.

Your eyes widen when you have a moment of eureka. Maybe talking yourself down is actually the way to get him off your trail?

“I’m sure Your Grace is aware, but I have a weak constitution…” you begin your pitiful tale, coughing softly to prove your point. “I can’t work very long, and I require plenty of rest to function in daily life. In the case that we marry, I might not be able to keep up with the tasks the lady of the house is expected to handle. Rather than support you as your wife, I might merely become a burden to you. And most importantly…”

A lot of what you just said aren’t complete lies, but you did exaggerate them greatly. Even if he isn’t convinced with those, you still have a hidden card up your sleeve, one that’s sure to discourage him.

“...With my feeble body, it would be difficult to sire you an heir for the duchy,” you state firmly, placing emphasis on this one point. Successors are absolutely a requirement for each family, because who else will inherit the title and everything that comes with it when the current head comes to pass? For this, you’re not even sure if you’re exaggerating anymore. The future of the original [Name] Silva was left unclear, so who knows if your body will improve or deteriorate with time?

Neuvillette’s face becomes stoic. This much is expected. Any moment now, he’ll take back his words…

…As you’re thinking that, you feel him touch your hand once more, not unlike the time at the banquet. You don’t know when you started fidgeting with the napkin on the table out of anxiety, but he’s rubbing a thumb over your knuckles to soothe you now, gentle touches that verge on ticklish.

“I’m prepared for that,” he says softly. “I won’t spare any expense on your treatment, of course, and in the case your condition worsens, I won’t stop finding ways to make you feel better. But I would never make you do anything to push you beyond your limits. I’ll take on everything you can’t do. Eventually, we’ll need to talk about successors, but I need you to know that I won’t force you or put you in any risk. If needed, I’ll talk to my relatives and figure out something from there.”

???!?!?!?!?!!!?! He wants to pass on the title to someone who’s not a direct descendant?!?!?

Your mouth is agape. You’re sure your jaw-dropped face doesn’t look very pleasant, but the affection in his gaze doesn’t dwindle. Heavy. Everything he just said is so heavy. The future is scary to think about, but when he says it like that, why does it feel like you can lean on him freely?! This is no time to be getting swept off your feet, [Name]! Focus!

“Are you still not convinced?” He moves his face closer, concern in his eyes.

“No, I get it! I get it already!” You take your hand back, but his warmth still lingers. You hold your fingers like they’re scorched, yet pain is the furthest thing from what you’re feeling, and your heart flutters traitorously in your beating chest. “You’re being unfair. If you go that far, there’s no way anyone could turn you down.”

The smile returns to his face as he takes his hand back as well. “I take it that you’ve given me permission to court you, then?”

!!! Sly! That’s what this person is, sly! He knew what he was doing!

You make a face. “Ugh… maybe persistent guys are too dangerous for me…”

“Lady [Name], you’re speaking your thoughts out loud again. Not that I dislike it, though.”

The duke of Marechaussee has found a potential bride.

“I-! Nevermind…”

That’s putting it lightly because everyone that has heard of them is certain that they’ll marry in the near future. With the amount of flirting the two have done (leaked by the eavesdropping jealous-admirers-turned-shippers), it’s a mystery why they haven’t made the announcements yet.

Notably, the pair of them frequented restaurants the most, visiting the shops highly regarded for their sweets. Chatting in slow boat rides seem to also be one of their most favored dates, and at one particularly disastrous time when the boat tipped over by accident, the duke had fretted over the lady while she merely laughed in joy, insisting she was fine and her partner was being too much of a worrywart. Both started to attend more gatherings, almost never spotted to be straying from each other, and it was more or less their indirect way of telling the public eye they were exclusive.

Their romantic dates are all common knowledge to anyone nosy by now, but there’s one thing they absolutely cannot spread.

“Don’t tell this to anyone,” a woman whispered to her loyal companion. “And I truly mean that this time. Don’t do it.”

“What is it? Is it something really bad? ‘Some high-ranking noble has a secret love child’ bad?”

“No!” This time, the woman took care to whisper her words even quieter, “I heard the duke requested a jeweler to craft an engagement ring…!”

Things I couldn’t fit into the fic:

Neuvillette already met you when you were younger. In one of the first gatherings you attended, you talked to each other because you were near in age. However, you collapsed due to your constitution and he was the one to alert the adults and carry you to a sick room. He used a handkerchief embroidered with his initials to wipe away the blood you threw up, and you hid it away in your bedside table after cleaning it in hopes of returning it (if he still wanted it back, soiled once and all) when you saw him again. Unfortunately, your family members were worried and didn’t let you outside for a long time to avoid having you perform strenuous activities, and you didn’t recognize him at a later gathering when he tried striking a conversation with you. He noted you were slowly getting better, but wondered why you weren’t attending parties if you were relatively well now.

You probably interacted with him when he was pretending to be a normal commoner several times already before your “first meeting.”

You didn’t fall for him immediately, but it was a slow progression until you forgot about the whole ‘I’m in an otome game world’ thing completely.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette #genshin impact fic #genshin impact scenarios #genshin scenarios

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heartfullofleeches · 2 months ago

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Housewife Yan: Darling! I want a div- Excuse me. I think we should get a divor- Gosh, I am a mess today! I believe you and I should sep... s-s-sepera-

Darling: Aspen. We don't have to get married again so you can wear your wedding dress.

Housewife Yan: W-who said anything about a wedding dress? Its not like I'm reminiscing on the happiest day of my life 24/7. Picking out the decorations together. Our vows... That special kiss. [Sighs]

Darling: Once again, we don't have to get divorced for that.

[Aspen falls to his knees]

Housewife Yan: MARRY ME AGAIN, MY LOVE! Please allow your loving wife to be your blushing bride again. I have never felt more beautiful than I did on that unforgettable day.

Darling: At this point I'm almost positive you don't know anything about renewing our vows, but I'm afraid if I tell you the full geist you'll ask for it every other week.

#Aspen my oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere #yandere oc #yandere text

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jymwahuwu · 9 months ago

Note

Capitano has me grrrr so ill—

So the heat has been bad and you’re capitanos arranged marriage darling so naturally you fall ill. When u go to a doctor they confirm that you’re expecting a baby and you’re terrified to tell your husband lmao. You have no idea how he’d react so you tell and/or bribe the doctor to just tell capitano for you while you do your best to avoid him as best you can the rest of the day :3

Love this!! The flustered and shy you and the affectionate Capitano… now besides Tsaritsa he has someone to pledge his undying loyalty…🥺💕

cw: yandere, arranged marriage, creampie, pregnancy, fem reader

The marriage to Capitano was arranged - a mission. Your relatives have already been looking for a lifelong spouse for you when you reach adulthood. In the eyes of these traditional people, nothing is more important than marriage and childbirth. What you didn't expect was. An armored warrior slowly walked into your village with gifts, solemnly knelt down on one knee and proposed to you, asking them to marry you to him. Your relatives are shuddering.

Of course, they accepted his gift.

Capitano sent enough supplies for the entire village and set up a heating system to help them survive the winter. In exchange, he got his bride.

You've never met him before, but he seems to know every strand of your hair, every smile and worry.

Fatui? That's too far away for you. You have no deep understanding of his power. Full of confusion, you married him. Your husband is upright, aboveboard, and strong… He is not out of control or impulsive. Sex also seemed like a routine. Always advance in a careful and firm rhythm, and stretch your thighs for several hours until your vagina is swollen and dripping. This is how every battle ends. His balls ravaged your quivering petals, his thick glans pushing into the tight depths. He kissed your lips and the back of your hands intently, his warm breath blowing behind your earlobes.

Maybe he just needed an heir. You wonder in despair. Marriage may be romantic, but it's not yours.

You have recently lost your appetite, vomited, and your breasts are swollen. You start to wonder if this could be…?

Capitano tells you that you need his permission to go out. He is not stuffy and conservative. This is a measure to ensure your safety. You are sick and you just want to see a doctor. That's okay, but you still can't go out. The doctor treats you at the manor.

The doctor's diagnosis and treatment results confirm your concerns - you are pregnant, and a little life is growing inside you.

"P-please tell my husband for me," you plead quietly, sniffing. You don't know how Capitano will react.

The doctor readily agreed. For the next half day, you tried your best to avoid your husband, including hiding in the greenhouse, watering the flowers and plants, searching for a magazine "you are interested in but can't remember the name" in the reading room, practicing cooking, and exploring new ways to play TCG. Just as you were hiding in a corner of the library reading pregnancy books, a rush of footsteps approached. It's his leather shoes.

"Are you pregnant?"

Looking at him as if you were caught in the headlights, you covered your cheek with your book and answered vaguely. "Uh…maybe…"

"Are you pregnant?"

Question again. Even your vision was shaken, your waist was lifted, and Capitano lifted you with one hand. The deep scar on his face has now been replaced by affection, and his chest is roaring with joy, bathing in it. You lowered your head and lifted your legs off the ground, panicking. "You, please calm down…"

"…Sorry, I got carried away." He carefully placed you back on the ground, as if you were fragile porcelain, and then he took the back of your hand and kissed it as usual. Those deep blue eyes exuded energy, like twinkling stars in the dark night.

#yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader

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bunnis-monsters · 9 months ago

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The mating bond of a prince

Yandere!Demon Prince x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 17th

Oct 16

Oct 18

summary:

warning: dubcon, kind of angsty, breeding, mating, marking, possessive and obsessive behavior

a/n: I wanna do more with this concept, but here’s a snippet for monstertober because I’m behind ><

Demons were said to be cruel creatures incapable of love or empathy, soulless beings that fed on fear and misery… and for the most part, that was true.

But what humans didn’t know about demons was one simple fact. There is only one person that they will ever love and care for…

Their mate.

Every demon was born into the world with one thought in their mind.

To find their mate.

Soon, other thoughts would pop up from time to time. They had to eat to continue the search for their mate, tear down humans cities to help their species thrive so their mate would have a comfortable place to live once they found them.

If they didn’t fight to end human civilization, where would their mates live and raise young? Taking their beloved back to hell with them was out of the question!

This was how the demon king managed to help demon numbers increase and keep his army growing. If each demon was born with the urge to procreate and create a good nesting ground for their mate, they could be easily controlled.

He just hadn’t expected his son, the prince of hell to be bound to a human.

The prince had recently conquered a small village. As he went about killing the men, his entire body began to throb.

In the distance, he smelled something that had his head spinning. One of the small cottages was on fire, that heavenly scent coming from inside.

He felt his body being pulled towards it, so he completely ignored the humans attempting to kill him and walked towards the cottage.

Breaking down the door was easy, but being enveloped in your overwhelming scent made it hard to think.

The second he saw you, injured and barely confused as a fellow demon stood over your fragile, human body, he felt something he had never felt before.

Protective.

Within seconds he was shirking your body, his claw drenched in the demons blood from ripping his throat out. Why was he doing this? You were just some human woman, but his soul was bound to you.

He couldn’t let you die.

When you woke up, you were somewhere strange… some sort of contraption beeped next to you, the beeps increasing in frequency as you sat up and looked around… only to spot a demon by your bed.

All you felt was pure terror.

You stared at the creature whose specifies was responsible for the deaths of so many of your friends and family, who killed innocents in cold blood. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to speak.

“Please… let me go…”

But when the prince looked into your eyes for the first time, his body felt like it had been set on fire.

He loved you, and you were his mate.

Not once in his life had he ever looked upon another creature with such fondness and care. The prince made his way to your bed, kneeling by your side and taking your hand.

“My love… oh, my darling do not fear… here you are safe, you’ll be treasured for all eternity…”

He kissed the back of your hand, your gut burning with anger and shame. This thing had taken you as some sort of… bride?

“W-what about my family?”

The words finally came out after a few days in the hospital. In this time, you learned that demon society was far ahead of the human one, with machines that could monitor your heart rate and medicines that kept you from being in pain.

It was… comfortable.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and cold. “What about them? They are humans, they will be culled like the rest.”

You clutched your blanket in your fists, your eyes welling up with tears. Something about you crying made his chest ache, and the prince reached out to caress your cheek.

“Why do you cry? Are you not comfortable?”

The demon could not comprehend your feelings towards your loved ones. He simply saw them as pests that needed to be eradicated, and could only feel love for you, his mate.

“They’re my family, I love them!”

Your sudden exclamation had him raising an eyebrow, his tail twitching. Were they really that important?

The prince knew that every human from your village was already dead, there was no way your family had survived. But to placate his mate, he wrapped his tail around you, using his soft black wings to encircle you and bring you close.

“I’ll have my men escort them somewhere safe. You may not see them, but they will live.”

This lie made you relax, and you settled into his arms. You felt like you could finally rest, and slept like a baby for the first time since you had been taken away.

The prince wanted to take things slow, but news that his mate had turned out to be a human woman spread through the kingdom until it reached his father.

He was called in to meet with the King, who was displeased, but mildly amused.

“I hear you’ve taken on a human mate, my son. You know how the royal court will react.”

The prince nodded, standing tall and confident in front of his father. “I am prepared to defend my mate to my dying breath, as would any demon.”

“That’s all well and good, but a human mate is an eyesore. You should hurry up and get her pregnant, there will be less danger once an heir is produced.”

Everyone knew that demon blood was powerful, being the dominant trait in every pairing. Once she was pregnant with the heir to the throne, not a single creature would dare to touch her.

It had only been a week since you had been home from the hospital, staying with the demon prince when suddenly approached you.

“My love…”

His lips peppered across your neck, hands holding onto your waist before sliding to your hips. “I wanted to wait… to give you time to adjust…”

You froze when his tail moved between your legs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. “But this is the only way to keep you safe… please, don’t be afraid… I’ll be gentle.”

The pieces slowly came together as his tail played with your cunt, rubbing against your panties before slipping under them and toying with your clit.

His hand was on your belly, eyes darting between your face and thighs. The way he moved his hand around your stomach…

He was going to breed you.

You squirmed for a bit, letting out an uncomfortable whine, but settled down when his clawed hand danced across your chest, groping one of your breasts as his face buried itself into your neck.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, love… this life is comfortable, isn’t it? I can give you a life of peace and safety, where you don’t have to fear war or pain. You’ll be taken care of.”

The very thought of some human male touching his lover made a growl rumble in his chest. You’d be staying with him, that wasn’t an option… but he wanted it to be something you chose yourself.

It felt sinful feeling wet from the demon playing with your fat pussy. His fingers pumped in and out of your as the tip of his tail continued to stimulate your clit, your juices flowing down your thighs.

He said your family was safe… was it so bad to let this demon take you as his mate? You were tired of long nights full of screams from people running from demons, of days without a proper meal as you rationed your supplies so you wouldn’t have to leave your home.

Couldn’t you live a comfortable life? You’ve suffered enough…

So you let him pin you down, watching as his fat cock rubbed against your leg. You had never seen a man naked before, so you were unsure if the size was normal… but you knew it had to be bigger than average.

His wings fluttered as his cock rested against your thigh. It nudges you, his tail lifting from your cunt to your tits, playing with them.

“I love you… more than you could ever imagine. You never have to want for anything again. I’ll give you everything…”

The pain of him taking your virginity made you cry out, your nails digging into his forearm. It didn’t hurt him at all, and he simply cooed, his wings soft as he dried his best to comfort you.

“Shh… shh… oh, my love I know it hurts. It won’t be for long…”

His lips pressed against your forehead, sweat already beading down. It wasn’t easy trying to take something so large inside of you for the first time…

The second you eased into it a bit, he pulled back out and slammed into you. He hadn’t meant to be rough, but he had struggled to control his urge to breed you from the second he realized you were his mate.

“I love you…” he murmured, gripping your hips as he fucked you, his teeth lightly gracing your neck. He wanted to cover you in bites and hickeys, claiming you completely.

He wasn’t done with you until your belly bulged with his cum. You smelled so much like him that he was a sappy mess.

You were exhausted, sore, and in need of a bath… but your demon mate curled around you protectively, kissing all over your body.

Within a month you were confirmed to be pregnant, and were moved into the palace as a princess.

You’d live a life of comfort… but were practically betraying your species by baring the future demon prince.

The current demon prince would soon be king, and you his queen.

An honor and the biggest shame.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

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madamechrissy · 9 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Satoru Gojo Drabbles/ Headcanons ˚୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

all of my shorter oneshots/drabbles and hcs

Emperor! Gojo - you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude!

Stripper! Gojo- Satoru Gojo is the leader of a male revue, and you're promised to be a bride to Naoya Zenin - and just want one night of freedom before

Pornstar! Satoru - Satoru is a pornstar who loves his life till he meets you and you mess his career all up - you're losing yourself and he's losing himself (now a fic)

Bully! Gojo- NSFW - Gojo is a complete dick and bullies you in college, and you honestly fucking love it, lil masochist Part Two Part three

Priest! Gojo- NSFW You have a confession to make to Father Gojo you sinner, but don't worry, he'll fill you with love and light!

Pervert! Gojo- also have some Pervert! Geto here - NSFW Satoru can't help but fuck you and send videos to his bestie Suguru, and make you cum in public

Sugar Daddy! Gojo- NSFW - Gojo loves to spoil you constantly, with his mone, with his mouth, and with his cum <3

Vampire! Gojo - Vamp Gojo rly wants your blood, oh and he also totally wants to marry you- yay!?

Yandere Roomie! Gojo - Yandere Satoru may or may not have got you kicked out of your apartment so you have to live with him, you may or may not rly care bc of that dick

Escort! Satoru - You hired Satoru for a date, but both of you fall. He has one rule - no kissing! Drabble mini series where Escort Satoru gets down bad for a client - five parts

Mafia! pretty boy Gojo- from Losing Control Mow - Mobster Gojo x Bartender reader, Gojo instantly falls and knows he must save you from dangerous people

Fratboy! Gojo- cute and freaky hcs of fratboy Gojo x Sorority reader from Took You Like a Shot - Part Two

You're mine, got it baby?- Yandere Gojo x short fem reader (request!) NSFW you asked the neighbor to change your porch light, Satoru needs to teach you better

One Night at the club - Yandere Gojo x Tall fem reader (request) NSFW - Satoru meets you at a bar and you knock a dude out- hott!

How to get a raise: Satoru Gojo x smol boob reader (request) NSFW you wear a new bra at the office, Gojo doesn't like it!

Just one more time: NSFW -Satoru needs to go again and again, just one more time plz

Bad Idea Right -NSFW- you trip and fall into ex boyfriend Gojo's bed, whoopsie!

His Instrument - Yandere Gojo x Musician Darling- nsfw- Gojo goes to all your operas, it's totally normal don't worry!

You Cryin baby? - NSFW - Satoru Gojo x Busty reader- Satoru really likes your titties and loves seeing your tears

I'm Into it: NSFW - Satoru and you are best friends, and there's only one place to sit, his lap- teasing/college au.

Yan!Gojo wants Geto's girl - NSFW- Just Gojo jerking off to a pic he stole off Geto's phone of youuu (mini series)

Ice Cream: SFW- You are pregnant and miserable, Satoru calls you an orca LMAO

My first kiss went a little like this- SFW- arranged marriage, jujutsu sorcerers, you can break Gojo's barrier- sweet, fluffy cute

Tell me how you hate me - NSFW- just Gojo hating you and loving your coochie lol

Need a Seatbelt when I ride it - nsfw - some cute and freaky ass domestic smut with you and soccer dad Satoru

Morning after Christmas with Satoru - nsfw the morning after Christmas, how long do you all have before the kids wake up? Enough time to make more babies

Even though I'm wifey you can hit it like a sidechick - CEO Gojo and his assistant/wifey love office breaks

Dom Gojo/sub reader reader is edged like a mf and dommed by a jealous Satoru

Virgin Gojo and Virgin Reader - nsfw- Gojo and your first time- cute and sweet little drabble

Fratboy Gojo waxes you- nsfw- Where your baby daddy waxes you since you're a lil too far along to shave <3

Aftercare With Satoru - NSFW drabble of Toru bein' freaky

Figure You Out- light smut- College AU, Reader and Toru are both nerds tbh, FLUFFY and sweet, some sexual tension, lots of unspoken feelings - 3k wc

Lead It Southbound an alt universe with reader from Baby You're a Star, with secret Onlyfans star Nanami and Pornstar Satoru where they share you on cam - PWP, obsessive Nanami and Satoru - 4.5k

An Arranged Marriage with Gojo: NSFW - You are arranged to marry Gojo, sight unseen, and run into a hot white haired guy at the bar the night before, you both decide to have some fun before your 'wedding' (longer drabble)

Losing focus every time you speak, girl - nsfw - Yan Gojo mad that your boss Sukuna flirts with you at the Christmas office dinner! (longer drabble)

First Time -Satoru Gojo x Virgin reader- NSFW - you want your best friend to be your first, and find out you've both had feelings all this time (longer drabble)

For Me? - nsfw- Satoru Gojo really loves making you feel better on your period, but maybe it's a little selfish, since he loves fucking you during it so much. (longer drabble)

Masterlist of all my full series/ fics // Long Oneshots of Gojo here - Masterlist Gojo Full length fics here - Masterlist // by me a glass of wine here - Kofi Link

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo drabbles #smut drabble #story requests #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo smut #satoru x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #masterlist #divider by cafekitsune

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buckysleftbicep · 1 month ago

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beneath the crown (1) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: knight!bucky barnes x princess!fem!reader (set in medieval times)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, forbidden relationship, lots of tension, loads of pining

summary: in a kingdom ruled by duty, you’re a princess promised to a prince you don’t love. sir james buchanan barnes is the knight sworn to protect you. but one touch turns into a secret affair, dangerous, all consuming and impossible to stop. and now, you’d risk everything just to be his.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: yay! chapter 1 is finally here! i genuinely hope it doesn't flop on me! thank you so, so much for reading my loves and please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed it, i would really appreciate it! love ya and stay safe darlings!

series masterlist

The castle has never felt so cold. Tall arched ceilings echoed every whisper of conversation and footsteps, the marble floors that royalty generations before you had walked on were polished to a mirror’s shine beneath the flickering chandeliers.

Golden sconces lined the stone walls, casting pale light over the crimson tapestries and ornate banners bearing the crest of your house in silver, bold and unbending. Servants moved quietly through the corridors, heads bowed, eyes averted, as if the walls watched and guards stood stoically at every turn, their armour gleaming in the light like polished bone.

But none of it felt like home, at least not anymore. You sat stiffly in the great hall, hands clenched tightly in your lap, the silk of your gown whispering with every breath you took, you were dressed like a bride already—draped in ivory and gold, dressed to the nines, every day of your life, since you were born.

Your hair, coiled into elegant twists by your handmaidens, your throat encircled by a delicate sapphire necklace, gifted by your grandmother to you, that seemed to feel more like a shackle than a gift.

Though you were the only princess ever born to the king and queen, hailed as the light of the realm on the day you were first presented to the people of your kingdom, you never truly felt that way. You hardly saw beyond the gilded, golden bars of your palace prison, never saw what life truly had to offer besides the one you were born into. Adored, perhaps, but always constrained.

Sometimes, you envied the townspeople in their simple lives, free to choose, to love, to marry whoever they wished, to breathe without permission.

Across the length, your father, the king stood proudly beside the visiting envoy, the herald of the man she would marry. The great prince of House Hydra who had not even bothered to come himself, sending nothing but his regards.

The man who would inherit your hand, your title, your body, the man who would rule over you, the man you were expected to serve. He was chosen not for love or even friendship, but for land, allegiance and gold.

A political transaction.

That was all you had become, raised, fed and taught to become nothing but a bargaining chip, a living seal on a loyal contract. Your heart thuds with rage as you remember how swift the announcement was.

There was no warning or private conversation with your father, none of that, simply a scroll, read aloud by his majesty at the high table, his voice ringing off the walls with pride.

“The princess (y/n) (l/n) shall be wed to Prince Rumlow of House Hydra, a noble union which will ensure peace and prosperity across all kingdoms”.

Peace, prosperity, what of yours?

Completely disregarded.

You blinked slowly, swallowing hard against the tightness in your throat, your mother had said absolutely nothing, shooting you a glance that urged you to accept the decree, to do your duty as princess.

You didn’t blame her, you couldn’t, she too had wed your father under the very same circumstances. She had simply bowed her head as the court erupted in polite applause and some of the duchesses congratulating you as if being offered to some man on a platter was an occasion to be celebrated.

“Are you well, Princess?” The voice came low beside you, gravel-smooth and unmistakably his, you turned your head, already knowing who stood at your shoulder.

Sir James Barnes, Bucky, your sworn knight, your silent shadow stood just behind you, ever watchful. He was a towering figure of black leather and polished silver plate, his broad shoulders framed by the dark cloak clasped at his collar.

The hilt of his sword gleamed with deadly promise at his hip, well-worn from use, the etching of the royal sigil barely disguising the notches of war along its edge. He looked carved from steel and smoke, unyielding, stoic and impossible to ignore.

His hair was slicked back from his face, his features sharp and angular, a soldier’s face, honed by battle and shadowed by the weight of things unsaid.

A strong jaw dusted with the beginnings of a beard, cheekbones carved you suspected were carved by Aphrodite herself, high and severe, and a mouth that almost never smiled, but when it did, gods help you.

But it was Bucky’s eyes that captured you most, steel blue, clear and cold and somehow endlessly deep, they never left your face, not in four years, not since the day he was assigned your guard, plucked from the battlefields of the border wars, his name carried by whispers of brutality and brilliance.

They had said he was ruthless, relentless, a weapon barely unleashed. And yet when he looked at you, there was a softness, fire, a hunger so carefully buried, it almost felt like a secret you were never meant to witness.

Bucky had bowed before you in the great hall that day, kneeling in tarnished armour, blood of the kingdom’s enemies still drying on his gauntlets as he swore his oath before the court. He was to guard the kingdom’s most prized possession, to protect the crown’s only heir.

You remembered how his eyes had narrowed when you snapped at him for following you a tad too closely, the way he hadn’t apologised when you ordered him to leave your chambers when you were dressed in nothing but one of your sheer nightgowns, he only lowered his gaze respectfully, jaw tight and unmoved.

Overtime, however, something shifted, a grudging understanding, then a fragile trust and now, perhaps something else.

“I’m not well” you replied softly, eyes scanning the court for any nosy handmaiden, “but i’m surviving”.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his gloved hands flexing at his side. “If you gave the word-”

You looked up at him sharply, “what?”

“If you told me to,” he said, voice low, so only you could hear, “I’d help you escape all of this”.

Your breath caught, he had meant it, every word. There was no jest in his tone, no playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, Bucky's gaze held yours with unshakable intensity, carved from iron and shadow and in it, something deeper stirred. Not just the rigid armour of loyalty he wore so well, but a burning heat beneath it, a quiet consuming ache.

It pulsed in the space between the both of you, the kind of yearning that cannot be named, only felt, it was ancient, wild and utterly ruinous. It had stretched between the both of you for months, like a bowstring drawn too tight, trembling with restraint, begging to snap. It was the lingering glances across the room, the brush of your fingers against his that should have been accidental but never were.

You and Bucky had never crossed the line between knight and princess—not truly that is. But you had danced along its edge, toeing it in the shadows where nobody could see, a breath too close, a touch held too long, words unsaid, heavy with meaning.

All of this taut and forbidden.

“I can’t” you whispered, “you know I can’t”.

“You already do” Bucky replies.

“Not the way I want to”.

The confession crashed over you like a wave, sending your pulse skyrocketing, you turned your face forward again, willing yourself to stay still, to hide the tremble in your hands.

Not the way I want to.

You lost count of the nights you spent, laying awake, staring at your ceiling, thinking of the rough timbre of his voice, of the stolen glances you had both shared across the council chambers, his training yards and moonlit corridors.

The nights you had spent imagining pressing your lips to his, tasting the fire you saw behind those cerulean blues, that barely showed any emotion, except when it comes to you.

Too many.

Bucky was your knight, sworn by blood and steel, bound by an oath beneath the banners of war. You were the crown princess, first of your name, heir to a throne gilded in tradition and chained by countless expectations, rules.

The space between you and him was carved by laws, wide, deep and merciless, it was a chasm filled with duty, danger and the ever-looming spectre of consequence.

To betray that sacred divide meant death, not just for Bucky but for anyone who dared conspire with him, after all, the crown does not forgive disobedience. It punished treason with fire and blade, seen when your father made examples of lesser men for far smaller sins.

And Bucky was no ordinary man, he was a symbol, the battle-worn soldier pulled from blood soaked soil, knighted before a crowd of nobles. He is the kingdom’s quiet weapon.

And yet, your heart raced everytime he looked at you like that.

Not like a knight beholding his charge, but a man staring down temptation. Like he knew exactly how soft your skin would feel under his calloused hands, like he had memorised the shape of your mouth when you whispered his name in the dark.

Like he was always mere seconds away from shattering every vow he had ever sworn.

“Come” you said softly, standing, the heavy chair behind you scraping lightly against the marble, “I wish to walk the gardens”.

Bucky nodded silently, and fell in step behind you as you swept out of the hall, your chin high, posture regal, but you knew, beneath all of that, you were shaking.

The castle gardens were quiet this time of the night, cloaked in moonlight and the hum of crickets. Roses bloomed in wild tangles along the stone pathways, their scent thick in the cool air. Lanterns flickered gently in the breeze, casting golden shadows over the hedges and statues.

You walked until you were far from the windows, far from the eyes of the court. Bucky followed without question, ever the silent sentinel. When you finally stopped, it was beneath the wide, open branches of the weeping willow, the one your mother whom you recall used to read to you under it, now it had become the one place you always came when the walls of the castle felt too tight.

“Do you think I am weak?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“What?”

“For accepting this, for just bowing my head and smiling through my own damnation” you say, a bitter ache swelling in your chest, shame twisting with helpless fury as the words slipped from your lips like a confession. Your voice trembled, not with weakness, but with the weight of a thousand silenced protests, all the defiance you had swallowed in the name of duty.

Bucky stepped closer, like a storm barely held at bay, broad shoulders tense, his cerulean irises burning with a fury reserved only for those he could not protect. “You aren’t, there is no weakness in survival Princess, there is no shame in doing what you must”.

“I feel like I am being sold,” you said, breath catching, “packaged like meat to some man who I have never met”.

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You’re not his. You’re not anyone’s.”

But mine, he almost said. The words burned on his tongue, scorching with truth, but he swallowed them down. He couldn’t risk it. Not when both your lives hung in the balance.

You stepped closer, voice soft but steady. “No,” you whispered. “But I wish I were yours.”

The words escaped your lips before you could even stop them, your heart pounded like a drum against your ribs, defying reason, downing out duty. Bucky’s chest hitched, chest rising as if he had been struck, the raw hunger in his eyes, sharpening, no longer hidden, no longer restrained.

“You don’t mean that,” Bucky replied tightly, his voice strained, torn between hope and torment, almost as if your words had cracked something open in him that he had fought too long to bury.

“I do” you whispered, “I’ve meant it for months James”. you replied softly, his name lingering on your lips.

Bucky’s hand rose, hesitated in the air, then slow and gentle, he touched your face, callused fingers grazing your cheek. His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone with aching tenderness, as though you were something sacred he would only ever dare to worship from afar. The fire in his eyes flickered with conflict, a desire that warred with discipline and love for you that was tempered by fear.

“I’ve known it since the night you carried me from the fire in the east wing, since you bled for me, since you stayed by my side”. you said, leaning in, your lips just a breath from Bucky’s.

His breath shook, “if I kiss you, I won’t stop”,

Your eyes searched his, “then don’t”.

His lips crashed against yours, all hunger and desperate, breathless need, it was far from gentle, it wasn’t careful, it was the unraveling of restraint, the collapse of every unspoken word between them.

His hands framed your face, thumbs trembling against your cheeks, you could feel the cold press of his armour against your chest but it did nothing to dull the searing heat radiating from his body—from his mouth, his touch, the way he kissed you, like he had been starved. The raw ache behind every movement sang through your body, full of all the things you and Bucky were never allowed to utter.

But before the kiss could deepen, the sound of footsteps echoed across the path. “Your Highness?”

You and Bucky broke apart instantly, breath heaving, eyes wide.

Your handmaiden, Yelena, rounded the hedge, “The King requests your presence in the throne room immediately Princess”.

You straightened, your heart thudding, face burning. “Very well, thank you Yelena”.

“I am sorry Princess, I know this alliance is not what you wish for” she replied softly, her gaze moving towards Bucky, she knew, she always knew of your feelings for your knight. You offered her a tight smile, the ache behind your ribs sharpening, “nor is it what I would choose,” you murmured, eyes flickering towards Bucky just once, your voice low but steady, “but I was never offered choices was I?”

Yelena’s expression softened with quiet understanding, but she said nothing more, she didn’t need to.

Bucky’s gaze changed, it was something darker, protective, possessive.

“Whatever it is, you won’t face it alone” he says.

You nod, turn and walk with him at your side, your fingers still tingling from his touch.

The throne room was filled with lords and ladies, their fine jewels glittering under the light, your father stood before them, hands raised for silence.

“The date is set” he announced, voice booming across the chamber, “my precious daughter, the crown princess shall be wed to Prince Rumlow in three weeks time, all preparations shall begin at once”.

A round of applause filled the hall and your stomach dropped like a stone.

You turned just enough to catch Bucky’s expression where he stood in the shadow of a column, his jaw was locked, his cerulean eyes were dark, like storm clouds threatening rain. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, as if he was restraining himself from crossing the space between them. There was a storm brewing behind those eyes, not just fury, but anguish.

He looked like a man ready to go to war.

a/n: and that's chapter 1! gosh i hope you loved it, please leave a comment or reblog this if you did, it would mean the world to me!

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darkmatilda · 4 months ago

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𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: some souls are simply destined to collide. even at a funeral. even at a wedding. even at both…at the same time? one chapter of your life is closing. his is just beginning. what binds you together is uncertainty—and the sheer terror of what tomorrow might bring. but if life is just a chaotic stream of people and events flowing toward the inevitable, why not, for once, swim against the current? run. grab the groom (not yours). get stuck on a blocked road. hunt a mammoth. and spend a fleeting moment of escape under a sky full of stars.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x female reader, strangers to lovers, soulmates trope, something like AU, since there are no references to the canon? spencer smokes and is getting married just for the plot. reader's father just died, funeral, intense manic pixie dream girl vibes just a heads-up because i know it gives a lot of people the ick

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8k

𝐚/𝐧: this is something very experimental. tbh, it’s an idea for a book that’s been with me for like 3 years now but i never quite got around to writing it so i was like ugh, what if o make it spencer reid??? anyway, i hope you’ll like it even if it’s not strictly about him. (and please read it with a bit of a lighthearted mindset??)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

eleutheromania /ɛˌljuːθərəʊˈmeɪnɪə/

(n.) an intense and irresistible desire for freedom

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"God, this must be some kind of joke!"

Your aunt fanned herself with a gloved hand—black against the ghostly pallor of her face, as if all the color had drained from it long ago. She looked on the verge of fainting, and the enormous black hat perched on her head did nothing to help, seeming to drag her small frame backward.

Her husband, your uncle, cast a nervous glance at the priest standing before you before shifting his uneasy gaze to his wife.

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain in the house of God—"

"Oh, shut up!" she hissed.

He fell silent. He had always been a little afraid of her. Okay, very afraid of her.

The priest, too, seemed tense, constantly wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead—sweat that wasn’t solely caused by the sweltering July afternoon.

"As I was saying to you…and to you as well…" He nodded toward the unfamiliar family standing behind him. He was the only thing separating you, a fragile barrier between two warring nations on the brink of nuclear catastrophe, ready to obliterate each other at the first wrong move. And, well—honestly, that wasn’t far from the truth. Except for the lack of access to nuclear weapons. (Though, who knew what your aunt kept in that little handbag of hers?) "There’s been a…mistake."

"A mistake?!" howled the woman from the opposing nation, dressed in a white gown with a long veil adorned with tiny diamonds. The bride. "You call this a mistake? I was supposed to have a fucking wedding today, and you brought me…a corpse!"

Your aunt inhaled sharply.

"I could say the same! I was supposed to be burying my brother today, and instead, they bring me some…floozy in an ugly dress!"

"Please, everyone, calm down…" the priest intervened.

The bride’s mother pressed close to her daughter, seemingly holding her back from lunging at your aunt.

"Don’t cry, my darling, you’ll ruin your makeup, sweetheart," she whispered. Then, suddenly, her face hardened, twisting with distaste. "Where is that fiancé of yours, anyway?"

The word seemed to scrape its way out of her throat with difficulty.

"He has a name, Mom…"

You tilted your head back, taking a deep breath. You felt like you might be the next one to faint.

Despite your legs barely holding you upright, you also wanted to laugh. And not just a small, disbelieving chuckle—no, you were genuinely afraid you’d collapse onto the perfectly trimmed, drought-resistant grass (meticulously maintained by the parishioners) and be consumed by hysterical, almost painful laughter. The sheer absurdity of it all was more than you could handle.

To stop that vision from becoming reality, you took advantage of the fact that almost no one was paying attention to you and quietly walked away. No eyes followed you. For a moment, you were invisible. And you needed that.

You circled around the small white church in your town, only stopping when you reached the back, pressing your face into your hands.

That day was supposed to be your father’s funeral.

And, as it turned out, another woman’s wedding.

How could someone make such a mistake—combining these two events, two completely unrelated families, and entirely different circumstances?

It was the final straw in everything that had been building up inside you since the morning. Being forced to spend time with the rest of the family—those aunts and uncles you barely knew but already hated. They had never cared about you, never cared about your sick father. Yet now that he was gone, they had appeared, playing the role of the most devastated mourners.

They took over the funeral arrangements, and you hadn’t been able to protest. At first, you even thought maybe it was for the best—someone else handling the burden for you.

But then it turned out they were far more interested in organizing a grand, lively wake afterward, the mere thought of which made you want to throw up. You didn’t want to be there.

You lowered your hands from your face—and nearly jumped.

Leaning against the church wall stood none other than the missing groom, the one his future mother-in-law had been looking for.

His brown hair was styled like something straight out of a wedding catalog, and his black suit was impeccably tailored.

"Oh, sorry," the words escaped you almost automatically, even though you both had every right to be there.

Still, you felt as if you had interrupted something.

And, well—you had.

It was just that that something happened to be him inhaling his cigarette so desperately that his cheeks hollowed in from the force.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, slowly exhaling a stream of smoke from his lips.

You couldn’t help but study him.

"Jesus, you look awful. And it’s my father who just died."

He fixed his gaze on you, his eyes filled with a fear so immense it was as if he were perched in a tree, surrounded by a pack of wolves—wolves who, armed with hammers and nails, were diligently constructing a wooden ladder to reach him.

"Wedding nerves," he muttered.

His voice was quiet, weak. His throat must have been bone-dry.

"I can see that," you scoffed.

You knew today was especially stressful, but you had always thought of it as the good kind of stress. Then again, you had never been married.

The groom pressed the nearly burned-out cigarette to his lips and said nothing.

You didn’t leave, though—he wasn’t the only person in the world who needed a moment alone, away from this whole mess.

You crouched down, wrapping your arms around yourself. The heat was making you dizzy, and your black dress was soaking up every bit of sunlight.

"My, um, condolences," he said after a moment, watching you with hesitation.

You weren’t an intruder in his personal space the way a member of the bride’s family would have been. You were a soldier of a neutral nation.

"Thanks. I hear that a lot."

"I can imagine."

"But I’m not exactly devastated," you admitted. "I mean, my dad had been sick for a long time. I’d made peace with the fact that it would happen one day."

He opened his mouth, clearly thrown off by your sudden honesty. You were a little surprised yourself—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. You always had a habit of unloading your grievances onto strangers.

Spencer lifted his cigarette to his lips again, only to realize it had already burned down to the filter. And then, as if he hadn’t just finished one, he immediately started rummaging through the inner pocket of his jacket for another.

"I don’t want to get married," he said suddenly. Straightforward, almost casual, like he had already made peace with it. Accepted it.

You studied his pale face, his hands trembling from stress and nicotine, the deep shadows under his eyes betraying nights of lost sleep.

"Yeah, I can imagine."

He finally found the pack, only to let out a quiet groan of horror when he realized it was empty. His eyes flicked to you, filled with desperate hope.

You shook your head.

"Sorry. Maybe it’s time to find a healthier way to deal with stress."

"The only alternative, in my case, is killing people."

"Maybe you shouldn’t fight that urge," you mused. "I mean, the hearse is already here."

“Good point, stranger. A bright stranger.”

“At your service, tortured groom. Shall we go check out what our families have come up with? I mean, who does the priest order to do adios, or maybe we're merging the ceremonies. I'm joking, but it's not such a stupid idea. The only real problem would be the soundtrack…”

“I need a moment,” answered Spencer, as the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

She was good company in this disaster, but he preferred for her to leave. Since he had come here, he felt like he was about to throw up, and he didn't want her to see it.

You stood up from your crouch and gave a mock salute as a farewell. The conversation had relaxed you a little, but the closer you got to the front of the church, the more tension crept back in. At least your aunt and the bride were no longer facing off like cage fighters.

“Oh, there you are,” your aunt said as you appeared behind her.

You opened your mouth to explain why you had disappeared, but she cut you off.

“The priest is on the phone with someone, trying to sort this out. One of the ceremonies will have to be moved. I just hope we won’t have to pay for it. What a rip-off that would be…It’s not our fault, after all!” She pressed her gloved hand to her chest, clearly trying to calm the anger rising in her again.

You barely listened, instead wondering if her hands were sweating in those gloves.

“You know, we paid quite a bit to organize the wake. Venue rental and all that…I really hope this whole mess doesn’t delay the funeral and screw up our reservation…”

The word wake snapped you back to reality. It was probably time—long overdue, actually—to tell her you weren’t planning to go. You could barely handle the thought of sitting through the funeral with them, let alone dragging it out any longer.

"So, your uncle and I were talking," your aunt went on, "and we figured there’s no point driving all the way back home. It’s so far, and I hate driving at night. I have to wear those awful glasses, and they keep slipping down my nose. So we thought—why not stay at your place? We’ll take your bedroom, and you can sleep in the living room. That makes the most sense, don’t you think?"

She said it like it was already decided.

Your eyebrows shot up, and panic clenched around your ribs. Them showing up at your father’s funeral? Fine, he was their family too—you could deal with that.

But in your home?

"Do you have anything for a headache?" you asked suddenly.

You felt like your head was about to explode.

Your aunt wasn’t really paying attention to you—her eyes kept scanning the area, searching for the priest who was supposed to return with news. Still, without looking, she reached into her bag and shoved her car keys into your hand.

"There should be some in the glove compartment. I parked behind the church."

Without a word, you grabbed the keys and headed in the direction she had pointed. Just as she’d said, the car was parked behind the church—far beyond their line of sight. Which also meant that, once again, he was in yours.

The groom hadn’t moved much since you’d last seen him. He was still leaning against the same spot, the only difference being that now he held his jacket in his hands instead of wearing it. One corner of the fabric brushed the grass. He wasn’t looking your way. He had no idea you were watching him from a distance.

You shook your head to yourself. You felt a little sorry for him.

Rummaging through the glove compartment of your aunt’s red Chevrolet Caprice, you found what you needed. With no water to wash down the pill, you paused, hand resting on the open car door, gathering enough saliva in your mouth to swallow it dry.

You weighed the car keys in your palm.

Your gaze flickered back to the groom.

And again.

You were a reckless idiot.

Some flaws can be fought. Others must be accepted. And some? Some are worth celebrating like virtues.

"Hey, tortured groom!" you called out.

He flinched at the nickname. Even from a distance, you could see the crease forming between his brows. You gestured toward the car.

"You coming?"

For a second, he didn’t get it. But—amusing, considering he was about to get married—his first instinct wasn’t to refuse.

"Where to?"

You shrugged.

"No idea yet. But I’ll buy you smokes."

You watched as he stood frozen for a moment, then slowly, hesitantly, turned his head toward the church. God, you wanted to crack open that curly-haired head of his, pull up a tiny stool inside, and sip something cold while watching the war raging in there.

After an agonizingly long moment—during which you managed to change your mind about this plan exactly six times, only to commit to it again just as many—he finally moved.

Actually, he ran.

There was no real need for it; no one could see you from where you were. But you understood. He was doing it to outrun his own second thoughts before they could catch up to him. Your aunt’s Chevrolet had three beige seats up front. He yanked open the passenger door and dropped onto one of them, breath coming hard and fast. You doubted it was from the sprint. You let your gaze linger on him for a second—flushed cheeks, a mix of heat and sunburn; a stray curl that had escaped its styled place and now rested against his forehead; closed eyes.

And, just for a moment, the fleeting shadow of relief on his face as the car rolled forward.

You had only driven a block away, wrapped in some kind of magical daze and an absolute silence that filled the space between you. The church had completely vanished from sight, yet the street remained familiar—simply because you had grown up in this town. You had no real destination, but you knew you wanted to find yourself somewhere under a sky that had never looked at you quite like this before.

The groom suddenly jolted, his eyes widening so much that, for a split second, you half-expected them to pop out like two ping-pong balls. He stared at you first, then at the window beside him, pure shock etched across his face.

“What are we doing?!”

You snorted. He sounded as if he hadn't just jumped into your car of his own free will.

“I’m committing grand theft auto,” you replied. The calmness in your voice actually startled you. “And you…?” You cast him a sideways glance. “I guess you’re running away from responsibility.”

"Responsibility," he repeated after you, eyes fixed on the road ahead. You knew he wasn’t from around here—most of this area was probably unfamiliar to him. His jacket lay on the middle seat, a barrier between you.

"Do you want to turn back?"

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, holding the look for a moment before shaking his head. You let out a quiet breath. If he had said yes—if he had decided to be rational, to just go back to the church, back to your unsuspecting families, pretending like nothing had happened—you would’ve felt pathetic.

"Can we pull over for a second?" you asked. "So we can switch? You drive?"

"I don’t think I can."

"Okay."

Your fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. You’d been driving for about five minutes now, and the longer you waited, the more absurd it felt to say it. You took a breath.

"I don’t have a driver’s license."

His reaction was exactly what you expected—he tensed, his mouth falling open.

"Wait…what— you couldn’t have mentioned that befo—?"

"Well..."

A moment later, you'd switched seats.

The thought of getting pulled over by the police—or worse, ending up wrapped around a tree on his own wedding day—was enough to force Spencer into the driver's seat, no matter how awful he felt. As soon as he sat down, he started messing with the car’s air controls. It was so stifling inside that he was already undoing the third button of his shirt, yet he still couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

"So, where are we going?" he asked.

A strange emptiness filled his head. It should have been a welcome change from the chaos that had consumed every free space in his mind for days—weeks, even—but for some reason, it wasn’t. He needed something to focus on. Something to aim for.

You shrugged.

"To buy you cigarettes."

"And after that?" he asked. "You're not...planning to go back to your dad’s funeral?"

"It’s not even my dad’s funeral anymore. It’s theirs." You scoffed.

He didn’t respond, just gave a small nod.

Earlier, caught up in the heat, the absurdity of the moment, and maybe even the looming threat of heatstroke you’d somehow forgotten that you didn’t actually know each other. Now it was starting to sink in—the weight of it all—as awkwardness crept steadily into the space between you.

"And after that..." you echoed, genuinely pondering.

It felt like if you were going to pull something like this—if you were going to walk out on your father’s funeral—you needed to go somewhere meaningful. Symbolic, even. A quiet apology whispered into the afterlife.

For a moment, nothing specific came to mind. You bit your lower lip in thought.

"I think...I want to go to the cliffs."

"The cliffs?" he repeated, suddenly sitting up straighter, alarm flashing in his eyes. "You’re not...You’re not planning some dramatic suicide, are you?"

“What? No! Just because I want to go to a damn cliff doesn’t mean I want to jump off it,” you snapped at him, causing him to defensively raise a hand towards you. You sighed, exasperated. “We just used to like that place. My dad and I.”

Spencer allowed himself a closer look at your face. Lost in his own thoughts, you didn’t even notice him doing so. It wasn’t until now that he realized he had missed the signs of pain on your face earlier. He noticed small traces of it in every expression, so evenly spread that they weren’t immediately visible at first glance.

“To the cliffs, then,” he muttered. It meant several hours of driving, but oddly, that didn’t concern him. Maybe the small smile that appeared on your lips made it feel worth it. Maybe he was desperate to know where this was all headed, even if it meant a long and tiring journey.

And just like that, all the tension and awkwardness hanging between you seemed to dissolve.

You stopped at a gas station to refill the tank and so he could buy the cigarettes he had been craving. As he lowered his head slightly to light one, you suddenly ran your fingers through his hair, ruffling it roughly.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” he exclaimed, the cigarette between his lips muffling half his words.

“Sorry. You looked too wedding-y,” you said, slipping back into the car.

Waiting for him to finish smoking, you left the door open, letting as much fresh air as possible seep inside.

“And since when is that a bad thing?”

“Since the moment you ran away from that wedding.”

A grimace flickered across his face when you used the phrase ran away.

“Oh? Got a better term?” you scoffed mockingly.

Exhaling smoke through his lips, he actually seemed to consider the question. He no longer looked like a groom. His already exzausted appearance—dark circles under his eyes, a weary expression, undone buttons, and now, thanks to you, messy hair—made him resemble a guy recovering from a wild bachelor party. The morning after.

"Execute a strategic retreat," he stated after a moment, waving his cigarette as if he were laying out some incredibly complex, borderline brilliant concept.

"I think your almost-wife and her family would prefer my version."

"Oh, you're mistaken. They’d go with something closer to an absolute disgrace upon the family's honor, what will people say?! Leaving a pregnant woman on her wedding day…"

If you had a drink in hand, you would’ve taken a huge sip just to dramatically spit it right in his face.

"Pregnant?"

"Yes, but—"

"You’re telling me I just wrecked a family by kidnapping a father straight from the altar? Jesus Christ, you weren’t kidding about running away from responsibility…" You shook your head in disbelief.

You didn’t hide it—a sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

"You didn’t wreck anything," he denied.

Spencer pressed the cigarette to his lips but realized that, after all his gesturing, it had gone out. There was still about half of it left. He reached into the pocket of his suit pants for a lighter but then, after a moment’s hesitation, decided against it. He simply tucked the cigarette back into the pack. That desperate urge to drown his stress in nicotine—the one that had gripped him so tightly outside the church—was gone.

He got back into the car, placing his hands on the steering wheel. You hadn’t closed the door on your side, making it clear that you weren’t going anywhere until he explained whatever it was he was holding back. But it wasn’t an ultimatum—you weren’t pressuring him. If he wasn’t ready, you could simply stay there. There was no rush. The sun had already passed its peak, and with the doors open wide, the air was pleasantly cool.

“That family was already wrecked,” he finally said. He averted his gaze, taking a deep breath before continuing. “And the baby isn’t mine.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you blurted out.

“Wow, that was a really empathy-filled response”

"This isn’t a conversation for empathy-filled responses. This is a conversation for fuck," you scoffed loudly, your gaze repeatedly drifting to his profile as you analyzed him, searching for as many answers as you could. You swallowed carefully. "How…how did you even find out?"

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He stared straight ahead for a moment before letting out a short, bitter laugh.

There he was, sitting in a gas station parking lot on his wedding day, spilling his most painful confessions to a complete stranger. And he, for the record, wasn’t usually in the habit of doing things like this.

“Well, at first, it was just pure calculation,” he began. “You know, people always say men have no clue about the female body, but all I had to do was count back to the last time we had sex…” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “Oh, and then there were the messages.”

“Messages?” You didn’t catch on at first.

“You know. He can’t find out…”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.”

You fell silent for a long moment, simply at a loss for words. The image of the woman in the white dress flashed through your mind again—the hundreds of tiny diamonds shimmering on her veil—followed by the sight of him, hidden behind the church, burning through one cigarette after another.

“But…” You frowned. Something didn’t add up. “Why did you still want to marry her?”

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again. A sound, the beginning of an answer, formed in his throat but never quite made it out. Instead, he shook his head, exhaustion radiating from every small motion before he finally let his forehead drop onto the steering wheel.

“I don’t know,” he admitted weakly, his voice muffled. “I-I don’t know. Everything was already planned. The wedding. Our whole life. And I guess…I think… if I hadn’t looked at her phone…”

"You would have been living a lie," you finished firmly, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t understand how this man could feel guilty about any of it. "All of you, actually."

You reached for the open passenger door and shut it. You wanted to trap the echo of your words inside the car. In the silence that followed, neither of you moved. You just watched his hunched shoulders and bowed head, linking this image to the expression that had already been etched on his face. That lost look. Only now was it starting to sink in why he might have chosen to stay.

The future doesn’t exist, yet people desperately try to build it from the wrong or even broken pieces, convincing themselves it won’t collapse at the most unexpected moment. Not swept away by the wind, not shattered by an earthquake. Just caving in on itself.

Slowly you reached for him, gently running your fingers from the top of his hair—stiff from the styling products—tracing a path past his ear, down his neck, until your hand rested on his shoulder. He shifted slightly under your touch, and you sensed a barely noticeable tremor in his body, caused by his unsteady breath. You waited in that position until it passed. And yes, it took a long time. But after running away from your father’s funeral, stealing a car, and taking someone else’s fiancé, the last thing you cared about was the passage of time. It would flow either way.

He finally lifted his head to look at you.

“So…” he began, his voice slightly hoarse. “Are we still planning to go to the cliff?”

It sounded almost like a request. You smiled softly, pulling your hand away. As you straightened in your seat, you could feel the atmosphere slowly returning to normal. Well, at least it was no longer drenched in sorrow down to the bone.

“Well, that depends on who’s driving,” you replied.

“In that case…I think we should be there in about three—”

Three hours later, you recalled his words with the loudest scoff possible.

"Would that be too dramatic..." you wondered aloud, resting your bare foot on the dashboard. Rummaging through the glove compartment, you found, along with some painkillers, a nail polish bottle with a partially dried-up brush. The color was awful, but you were bored enough to use it anyway. "If I started keeping a journal?"

Kneeling on the back seat—well, technically under it—Spencer straightened up, frowning at something.

"How is it possible that your aunt has a sushi-making kit and a cat encyclopedia in her car but not a single bottle of water? For god’s sake, not even half a bottle..."

"I’d be like Robinson Crusoe," you continued at the same time as him, applying the first coat of polish. "Day one on the deserted island. What a place, uninhabitable. No water..."

"Are you hallucinating from dehydration?"

"You’d be my Friday, the one I saved from the bad people..."

At this point, it seems like a good time to pause for a brief introduction to the situation.

You had left the gas station in relatively good spirits. It wasn't something you had discussed, but at some point, both of you had silently agreed to sever ties—at least mentally—with everything you were running from. To stop thinking about it. To stop worrying. To accept the absurdity of what you were doing and fully embrace it.

You had rediscovered the existence of the car radio, which, as one of the universe’s unwritten rules dictated, became your first reason to argue. You didn’t even get through a single full song before…

You got stuck on a blocked road.

The accident that had occurred was serious, though thankfully, it didn’t involve you. A truck had overturned across the lanes, and a fuel spill required emergency responders to work on the scene. Cars in front of you, cars behind you. Everyone was waiting.

The weather conditions—specifically, the unbearable heat—didn’t make things any easier. But the real nightmare began when you both realized just how embarrassingly unprepared you were for a trip like this. Typically, people embarking on spontaneous adventures bring snacks, drinks, maybe even crossword puzzles. You didn’t even have a stupid bottle of water.

Your new friend had groaned about ten minutes ago, declaring that in the chaos of your aunt’s car, there had to be at least a single drop of something drinkable. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt like an explorer searching for treasure in the jungle, sweat beginning to mark the fabric. The same heat made the back of his neck glisten noticeably. And he wasn’t the only one suffering. Your black clothing was starting to cling uncomfortably to your skin, and you actively avoided looking into the rearview mirror, knowing full well you probably resembled a walking disaster with a face flushed red from the heat.

Suddenly, he threw his forearms over the back of the front three-seater, staring at you as you calmly painted your nails.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Am I the only one worried here? This is actually dangerous. Do you even know how much water a person needs in these conditions to avoid dehydration and heat exhaustion?”

You dipped the brush into the nail polish, casting him a fleeting glance. You were only just beginning to learn little things about each other, and one of the things you had rcently noticed was that he possessed an incredibly vast knowledge of all sorts of topics—some of them unexpectedly niche. Not that knowing how much water a person should drink was particularly obscure. But the fact that chainsaws were originally made to assist in childbirth? Now that was.

“How much?”

“The recommended minimum is…oh, never mind, because we don’t have that much anyway!” he snapped in frustration.

With each passing minute, his carefully styled wedding-day hair was collapsing into a state of utter disarray. At this point, his head was a wild mess of curls sticking out in every direction, which he kept running his fingers through absentmindedly.

“You could at least try to help me. Painted nails aren’t going to save you from heatstroke.”

You were just about to say something, finally explain to him why this issue didn’t actually worry you, when a strangled yelp escaped his lips. His voice disappeared behind the seats as if something had dragged him to the ground.

A second later, he reappeared, eyes wide open, clutching a silver can of Diet Coke in his hands.

With reverence, he placed a slow kiss on it, as if he had just discovered the Holy Grail after dedicating his entire life to its pursuit.

“We have been saved.”

You scoffed at the sheer devotion in his voice.

A moment later, he was back in the driver’s seat, cracking the can open with a loud tssss. He took a sip.

“Pretty sure this has been here since the car was made.”

You made a face too, imagining the taste of warm, flat soda. Still, the sight of that familiar silver can had the same effect on you as a treat on a dog. You reached out your hand.

He pulled the drink out of your reach, looking scandalized.

“Hey, I fought for this while you were painting your nails. Go hunt down your own.”

"Hunt one down?" you repeated. "Oh, I see. You're gonna bask in your victory like you just took down a damn mammoth."

"Considering the amount of effort it took, I'd say that's a pretty accurate comparison."

"If you ever accidentally time-travel half a million years back, at least you'll be prepared. Actually, I'd bet you'd have a better chance of hunting down a mammoth than a caveman would of finding a can of Coke. But that's just my opinion."

"Well, actually, there were no mammoths half a million years ago. They lived during the Ice Age, which spanned from around 250,000 to 15,000 years ago."

You shot him a look. He did it again.

Not understanding what your problem was, he shrugged and tilted his head questioningly.

"Let me guess," you sighed. The polish on both your feet had dried by now, so you finally took them off the dashboard, wincing at how numb your legs had gotten. "You were one of those kids obsessed with dinosaurs?"

"Dinosaurs, astronomy, geology…"

"Okay, I get it—"

"Psychology, neurobiology, physical anthropology…"

"Now you're just making stuff up."

"Where did the dinosaurs even come from when I was talking about mammoths?”

"Logical train of thought."

"So, do you mix up lizards with elephants on a daily basis too?"

"All the time."

Spencer took a sip of the Coke, watching you with a hint of a smile on his lips. Then, he extended the can toward you.

"You should drink," he said solemnly. "I was just joking earlier."

"I know," you replied. "And I didn't help because I wanted to see how long it would take you to realize we could just ask the people in the car in front of us or behind us if they had something to drink."

His lips parted slightly in surprise as he processed your words.

"And I'm pretty sure they do," you added. "Because no one is dumb enough to go on a long drive without water in this heat."

You gave him a patient, almost pitying smile.

"Don’t take it too hard," you said, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. "The heat must’ve scrambled your brain for a second. I’m sure you were a little genius. And you probably still are. Just like, you know, a bigger one now."

Then you shot him a challenging look. "But let’s put that to the test. What’s 131 times 475?"

He took a slow breath, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

"62,225," he announced after a ridiculously short pause, not even blinking. Your eyes widened slightly. But then he added, "You do realize I could’ve just said a random number, and you wouldn’t be able to check?"

Your lips pursed. That thought hit you at the exact same moment he said it.

As Spencer let out a short laugh, you slid out of the car through the door that had been left open on your side—otherwise, you both probably would’ve suffocated in there.

"I'll go ask about the water," you explained.

You were just about to step fully outside when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s face suddenly appeared in the window of your aunt’s Chevrolet, grinning and waving enthusiastically.

A startled yelp escaped your lips, making all three of you jump in fright.

"What?" The stranger—a middle-aged man, maybe even a bit older—turned around, scanning for whatever danger had made you scream.

He hadn’t yet realized he was the reason. When his gaze landed back on you, his mouth suddenly fell open, as if it had just clicked.

"Oh! Me! Right, yes—terribly sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you."

Your heart was still beating fast. That got to you more than any jumpscare in a horror movie you’d ever seen. Wow.

Spencer, realizing that forming a coherent sentence might be a challenge for you for the next, hm, fifteen minutes, leaned slightly toward you, as if making himself visible to the newcomer.

"Do you need anything, sir?"

The man, dressed in a green polo shirt and beige bermuda shorts, was still glancing at you apologetically. It seemed like Spencer’s question didn’t register with him right away.

"What? Oh—ah, do I need something? Actually, I do." He reached…behind his ear, revealing a cigarette he had tucked away there. "Got a light?"

You had already calmed down—after all, it wasn’t a real heart attack, just a slight preview of one. And it was you who first spotted the pack of cigarettes, accidentally covered by a wedding jacket, bought at a gas station with a lighter tucked inside.

The man let out something close to a moan of joy at the sight, immediately sticking the cigarette between his lips. Within seconds, the first bit of ash fell onto the pavement.

"Crazy situation with this road, huh?" he remarked, still standing right next to your car, shifting one hip out like he was on a smoke break with coworkers, casually gossiping about their boss. "And the worst thing? No one knows how long we’ll be stuck here."

Spencer parted his lips, ready to explain what the wait time depended on and how long, according to his calculations, it would last, when the man tossed the borrowed lighter back to him. Not expecting it, he tried to catch it, but his grip closed too late, and it fell onto the car floor.

"Oh, that's rough, kid. Never played baseball, huh?"

You shamelessly let out a snort of laughter, earning yourself an almost outraged look.

“Well, actually—”

“Sir, turns out we have a request for you too,” you interrupted, reaching out blindly to cover the mouth of your new friend, who was about to defend his honor. You nearly poked him in the eye. “Do you happen to have any water in your car? We didn’t bring a single bottle…”

The man looked genuinely shaken by this revelation.

“No water? In this heat? Are you trying to die?” His gaze landed on the open can of diet coke in Spencer’s hand. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he shook his head in disapproval. “Cancerous crap. Come on, kids. You hungry too?”

And that’s how you met Grzegorz.

That day, your horoscopes aligned, the universe decided to give you an early Christmas present, and fate was performing a belly dance around you. As it happened, Grzegorz was a food delivery driver. And he was stuck on the road with you—right in the middle of his shift.

"Are you sure this won’t get you into trouble later?" you asked, sitting on the step of his delivery van, swinging your legs like a child on a swing. It was a ridiculously late question, considering you were already halfway through a paper box of Chinese takeout. After a longer pause for chewing and swallowing, you added, "I mean, someone out there is waiting for this food."

Grzegorz (or rather, Greg, since that’s what he insisted you call him after five failed attempts at pronouncing his actual name) shrugged dismissively.

"Listen, we’ve been stuck here for hours. Whoever ordered this probably made themselves mac and cheese a long time ago. Hey, kid, you don’t want a fork?"

Your gaze fell on Spencer, sitting next to you, his lips pressing together with some embarrassment. His chopstick skills…well, they didn’t exist.

Still, at the sound of the offer, he shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he assured, as if convincing himself. Then he stared at his food for a prolonged moment and sighed.“..Do you have one?”

Once again, you felt like castaways, this time just rescued from a deserted island by some lone, kindhearted sailor.

Since it was already late afternoon, Greg’s van cast a shadow on the road, creating a clear boundary with the orange light spilling onto the pavement. You had drunk so much water that your stomach started to ache—only now realizing how thirsty you had been.

“It’s like delicate, tender beef compared to your raw, mammoth meat,” you remarked to your newfound friend, twisting the cap back onto the nearly empty liter bottle.

Spencer was busy adjusting one of the sloppily rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, which kept slipping back to its original position. He didn’t look up at you, but you heard him scoff.

“You’re just plain ungrateful, you know?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you had been watching his clumsy attempts for a while. Finally, you sighed and reached for his wrist, pulling his entire forearm toward you. His hands were warm, making the veins on the back of them and running along his forearm more visible. His surprised gaze focused on your face and stayed there as you slowly and carefully rolled up the fabric to his elbows—first one, then the other.

"Voilà," you murmured softly.

When you lifted your gaze, you almost immediately collided with his. Sitting across from each other, you had leaned slightly toward him while helping with his sleeves—something you hadn't even noticed until now. Straightening up, returning to your original position, would have been the natural thing to do. But something held you back.

Maybe it was the sudden awareness that you hadn’t yet seen each other from such a close distance. That, in turn, pushed you toward another thought—a realization, really—that you had only known each other for a few hours.

And that led to an even stranger realization: you hadn’t even exchanged names.

As soon as it hit you, you parted your lips, ready to voice this revelation in a tone of disbelief. But something distracted you—his face. Right in front of yours, his head tilted slightly to the side. His irises, which from afar had seemed like two dark spots, now appeared to take on more depth with every second you spent staring into them.

You unconsciously parted your lips—you had meant to say something, but the thought slipped away. He noticed, his gaze dropping to your mouth.

"Actually, I've been wondering," Greg suddenly interjected, approaching you both. He had previously announced that he was going to chat with the people in the car next to his. Apparently, they'd been solving French crossword puzzles together for the first hour of being stuck on this road. None of them knew French.

Lighting another cigarette, Greg crouched down.

You released Spencer’s wrist and, as if nothing had happened, tilted your head slightly in Greg’s direction, silently prompting him to continue. You heard a heavy sigh from the man sitting across from you.

"Where are you guys coming from, anyway?" he asked. "Or where are you headed? I mean, you didn’t dress up like that for nothing."

"From a funeral," you said.

"From a wedding," Spencer announced at the same time.

You exchanged confused glances.

"So, which one is it?" Greg pressed, clearly intrigued. "’Cause I’m pretty sure a wedding and a funeral don’t usually go together. Unless..." He paused, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. "I mean, I guess different cultures do things differently. So?"

You stared at Spencer in silence before giving him a slight nod, wordlessly dumping the responsibility of explaining onto him. His eyes widened, and he immediately mimicked the gesture, making it clear he was leaving it to you instead.

You kept tossing the burden back and forth like a hot potato until, eventually, it landed in your hands for too long. With no way out, you had to say something. A few half-formed explanations tangled together in your head, and what came out was—

"We got married in a cemetery."

They both stared at you in confusion.

Before you could open your mouth to fix it, to your surprise, your supposed husband gave a confirming nod.

"That's right," he said, glancing at you briefly before turning to Greg with a look of feigned solemnity. "We understand it's...unconventional. But for us, it was beautiful”

Your eyes screamed one word. Idiot. His, on the other hand, took it as a compliment, lingering on you with a mischievous gleam.

You didn’t really want to joke like this at the expense of the guy who had just rescued you from your metaphorical deserted island. But before you could say anything, Greg suddenly sprang up and wedged himself between you, throwing an arm around each of you so forcefully that your heads nearly collided.

“That accident just had to happen today, huh?” Greg sighed with a hint of bitterness, still holding you both in place. You suddenly felt like a kid on Santa’s lap. Judging by Spencer’s expression, he probably did too. “To you of all people.” He shook his head. “Congrats, kids. Just a little advice, sometimes, it’s better to just let the other person be right. In marriage, I mean. Even if they’re talking total crap.”

You nodded, listening to his words, tinged with a certain melancholy, with quiet focus. Greg must have taken it as an attempt to break free because he let go of both of you at that moment, making you snap back into a straight position like a yo-yo. Spencer rubbed his neck, gazing at the pensive man.

"Got any more advice, Greg?"

And so, you let him talk—his words carrying the weight of someone who had learned the hard way. Unfortunately. Every time he addressed you as a couple, you exchanged fleeting glances behind his back, only to quickly look away.

Time passed like that, the van’s shadow inching forward. At some point, the couple from the French crossword puzzles appeared—an actual married couple, but with a much longer history. When Greg told them that you had gotten married that day, they immediately started asking about the details of the ceremony. By then, the joke had gone so far that backing out was no longer an option—you had to keep it up until the end.

They seemed genuinely scandalized when you accidentally let it slip that you hadn’t had a first dance—because neither of you could dance. Almost by force, they pulled you out of the van and began demonstrating their own routine. They barely remembered it themselves, yet they still did better than you—tripping over each other’s feet, stepping on toes, losing the rhythm you didn’t even know in the first place. And yet, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Eventually, you gave up and simply watched them move. They swore they hadn’t danced in years, but it didn’t show. It was only then, standing still, that you realized your back was resting comfortably against his chest.

By the time you got back to the car, the golden hour had arrived. It wrapped around you like a soft blanket as you sat together on the front bench seat, shoulder to shoulder, in quiet companionship.

"You can take a nap," you suggested at some point, noticing how heavy his eyelids had become.

At your words, he blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the drowsiness.

"No, seriously, it's okay. We're still at a standstill, but hopefully, we'll start moving soon. You can’t drive if you’re this exhausted."

He kept glancing at you doubtfully.

"You won’t get bored?"

You simply held up the French crossword puzzles you had taken from the couple.

Spencer let out a small laugh. A bit hesitantly, he shifted in his seat, searching for a comfortable spot to rest his head. In the end, he just let it drop onto his chest in such an agonizing position for his neck that you felt relieved when it finally landed on your shoulder instead.

Its weight was comforting—so much so that you started feeling drowsy too. You clung to the last threads of wakefulness, staying alert as the two of you half-sat, half-lay curled up against each other.

You never even touched the crossword puzzles. Instead, you just listened to his breathing, replaying the entire day minute by minute. And finding more than one tired smile on your lips.

By the time you finally started moving, the sun was setting.

By the time you reached the cliff—the destination you had almost forgotten about—the sky had unfurled into a canopy of shimmering stars.

You parked the car a bit further away so you could simply walk under that view, feeling as if it was drawing closer with every step.

You didn’t say much, but it was nothing like the silence from the beginning, when every exchanged glance screamed that you were strangers to each other. It was hard to grasp that the only thing separating you from those people was just a few passing hours.

You could barely see the same tortured groom in him as you kissed him there, on the cliff.

His lips still carried the lingering taste of cigarettes, and his body yielded without resistance when you pushed—no, gently laid him down—so that his back met the ground. At some point, however, you had to pull your face away, catching sight of something from the corner of your eye.

"Oh, come on," he pleaded, looking at you with a desperate sort of longing.

It took effort to ignore those puppy-dog eyes and the fingers reaching back toward your cheek. Instead, you focused on fixing your shirt sleeve, which had once again slipped down awkwardly to your wrist. This time, he simply watched you do it, visibly more at ease, his other hand tucking behind his head like a makeshift pillow.

"Will you marry me?" he asked suddenly.

So simply, as if he were inviting you to dinner.

You let out a barely audible chuckle.

"I'm serious."

"No, you're not. You just ran away from a wedding. Give yourself some time."

He let out a slow sigh, his entire chest rising and falling with it. Gently, you reached for the edge of his face, brushing away the stray strands of hair. His eyelids fluttered shut, but only for a brief moment. Then, just as suddenly, he opened them wide, so abruptly that you tilted your head at him in silent question.

"By the way," he began, removing one hand from your waist to place it between you—in a gesture of introduction. "I'm Spencer Reid."

You stayed still for a moment before finally shaking it.

"Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid."

*i feel like there will be questions about the last scene and the fact that his name was mentioned earlier but that was purely for the sake of narration bc it would’ve been strange to keep calling him friend or groom the entire time (though maybe i should have…) anyway, just note that his name was never actually spoken in dialogue before this moment, because the characters hadn’t introduced themselves to each other.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #doctor spencer reid #spence reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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ticifics · 6 months ago

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Count Vronsky and reader's first time? Maybe night after the wedding? Please feel free to not write this if it makes you uncomfortable 🫶🏻

First Night

Alexei Vronsky x f!reader

Summary: Even now, with a ring on your finger, you still had difficulty assimilating what had happened. As if it had all been nothing more than a feverish delirium. You were a married woman now, and as such, you should fulfill your duties.

Warnings: smut, virgin!reader, piv, mdni, porn w little plot

A/N: Hi, darling - to be honest, I was excited to write this, so I really hope you enjoy it <333

Even now, with a ring on your finger, you still had difficulty assimilating what had happened. As if it had all been nothing more than a feverish delirium. You were a married woman now, and as such, you should fulfill your duties.

After you arrived at the house that would now be your home, Alexei had allowed you to have a moment alone. To prepare yourself. A maid had prepared a bath of hot water for you, where you remained submerged for as long as you could, as if that would be enough to rid you of your fears. Your hair was brushed and your skin perfumed, your body wrapped in a thin nightgown. You had never worn anything like this, never had you revealed so much of your skin.

The night before, your mother had spoken to you. She had held your hand and told you that there was no reason to fear, that the Count would treat you well.

“I imagine he has already kissed you,” she said, a small smile curving her lips as you nodded, your eyes fixed on the embroidery on your bed.

Alexei had kissed you before, more than once. And you had committed each one to memory. The way his mouth had moved against yours, filled with a hunger you didn’t understand. Then, when you were flushed and your lips were numb, he would pull away, his fingers gently framing your cheek, looking satisfied.

“And you liked it, didn’t you? Then I’m sure the other caresses won’t bother you. He will certainly be gentle and attentive.”

But now you regretted not having asked more questions. Anxiety knotted in your stomach. What should you expect from this night?

The knock on the door was soft, but it made your heart leap in your chest. You sat up straight in the chair in front of the mirror, your trembling fingers smoothing the fabric of the thin nightgown that felt too heavy for your skin. For a moment, the thought of asking him to wait crossed your mind, but the truth was that waiting would only prolong the torment of your own anxiety.

“Come in,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely audible.

Alexei entered the room, his heart pounding at the sight of his bride. He drank in the vision of your, clad in the sheer nightgown that clung to your curves and accentuated your skin. Your hair fell in glossy waves over your shoulders, and your eyes, though anxious, sparkled with a hint of anticipation. He felt a surge of love and desire, but also a profound tenderness and protectiveness.

He approached your slowly, his steps measured and respectful. Stopping a few feet away, he gazed at your, his blue eyes filled with adoration and a touch of nervousness. He cleared his throat softly before speaking in a low, gentle voice.

“My dear wife, you look... sublime. More beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I want to make this night perfect for you, my love. A night you'll never forget.”

Alexei extended his hand towards your, his fingers outstretched in invitation. His heart raced as he awaited your response, hoping you would trust in him, in them, in the love they shared. “Please, allow me to join you. Let us begin our new life together, as husband and wife, in every way possible.”

His words, the intensity in his voice, made your face flush. With trembling fingers, You reached out to touch his hand, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.

“Alexei,” You began, looking up into his beautiful eyes. “I want you to join me, but…”

You hesitated, lowering your eyes. Alexei had kissed you before, but this time was different. You didn’t even know what was about to happen. The mysteries of the wedding night had never been revealed to you. What if I ruined everything? Nerves knotted your stomach.

Alexei sensed your hesitation and nervousness, seeing the uncertainty in your downcast eyes and the way your fingers trembled against his palm. His heart ached with the desire to comfort and reassure your, to chase away your fears. He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb caressing your knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

In a soft, gentle voice, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. “Shhh, my darling,” he murmured. “There's no need to be nervous or afraid. I know this is new and overwhelming for you, but I promise, I will be gentle. I want our first time to be a beautiful, loving experience for you.”

Alexei brought his other hand up to tenderly cup your cheek, tilting your face towards him until their eyes met once more. “We'll discover this together, step by step,” he assured your softly. “I'm here to guide and cherish you. Trust in me, and trust in the love we share.”

His blue eyes shone with sincerity and devotion as he gazed at your, awaiting your response. Alexei's heart raced with anticipation, but more than that, it raced with a desperate need to love and protect his new bride, to make this night as wonderful and unforgettable as you deserved.

His words were reassuring, though there was still a hint of nervousness lurking in the background. “I trust you, Alexei.” He was your husband, the man your trusted with your life.

You moved closer to him, feeling his warmth envelop your body, all too aware of the thin gown covering your body. Your face felt hot, but the words found their way past your lips. “Will you teach me?”

Alexei's heart swelled with love and tenderness at your soft, trusting words. He pulled your closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your gently against his chest. He could feel the heat radiating from your body through the thin fabric of your nightgown, and it ignited a gentle warmth within him.

He gazed into your eyes, his own blue orbs filled with adoration and a deep, abiding love. “Of course, my darling,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “It would be my greatest honor and pleasure to teach you, to guide you, to love you in every way possible.”

Alexei leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered. “Tonight, I want to explore every inch of your beautiful body, to map out the curves and contours that belong only to you. I want to learn what brings you pleasure, what makes your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.”

He pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your lower lip. “We'll take our time, my love. I'll make sure that every touch, every kiss, every moment is filled with love and devotion.”

Alexei's eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths. “Will you let me love you? Will you trust me to be your guide?”

“Y-yes,” you said breathlessly, feeling your knees weaken at the intensity of his words. It was almost too much to bear. “Please,” you began again, your fingers wrapping around his shirt, as if pulling him closer. You needed his warmth. “I want you to teach me,” you pressed your face against his hand, closing your eyes as shame swallowed you. “I want to be yours, Alexei.”

He pulled your flush against him, his strong arms enveloping your trembling form, holding your close as if you were the most precious treasure in the world. He could feel the desperate way your fingers clutched at his shirt, and it only served to fuel his own longing to cherish and possess your completely.

With a soft, loving groan, Alexei captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His mouth moved over yours with a gentle intensity, pouring all of his love and desire into the embrace. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, asking for your permission to explore the warmth within.

As he kissed your, his hands began to roam over your body, mapping out the tantalizing curves that the thin nightgown did little to conceal. He caressed the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips, the soft, supple skin of your thighs. His touch was reverent and worshipful, a silent testament to his devotion and desire.

Breaking the kiss, Alexei trailed his lips down the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin. He could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his touch, and it spurred him on, urging him to claim you, to make you his in every way possible.

You felt intoxicated by his kisses, and a strange heat was building in your belly. No, below your belly. You had never felt anything like it.

In a low, husky voice, he murmured against your skin, “You are mine. Now and forever. And I am yours, my love, my heart, my soul.”

Alexei's hands slid down to the hem of your nightgown, his fingers toying with the delicate fabric. He awaited your silent permission, your eager consent to take this next step into their new life together as husband and wife.

You looked down, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw him with his fingers in the fragile laces of your nightgown. But you weren’t going to back down. You nodded slightly, giving him permission to undo each lace. “I want you to show me.”

When the nightgown was loose on your shoulder, it wasn’t long before the fabric slid down your body, pooling around your feet. You fought the urge to curl up, to hide. There was nothing between your body and Alexei’s gaze.

Alexei’s breath caught in his throat as the nightgown slid away, revealing the breathtaking beauty of your naked form. His eyes drank in every inch of your skin, from the elegant curve of your neck to the soft swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist and the gentle flare of your hips. You were a vision of perfection, a goddess made flesh, and he felt unworthy of your divine presence.

Slowly, reverently, Alexei's hands skimmed over your newly exposed skin, his touch gentle and worshipful. He cupped the soft weight of your breasts, marveling at their delicate shape and the way they fit perfectly in his palms. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks, feeling them tighten and harden beneath his touch.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” Alexei said in a reverent tone, raising his eyes to meet yours. He took a step toward you, pushing you back until the backs of your knees met the vanity. He lifted your body, settling you there, quickly settling himself between your legs. His fingers traced invisible lines on the sensitive skin of your thighs.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips as he lifted you up. The cool mirror against your back contrasted with the heat of his body. Your hands gripped his chest, feeling like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. And he was between your legs, his hips pressed against yours, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed your face against his neck, whimpering at the discomfort between your legs. “Kiss me, please, I need your kisses,” you begged, the words vibrating against his skin.

He could feel the evidence of your arousal pressing urgently against him, and it only fueled his own rapidly growing desire. With a low, possessive growl, Alexei captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his passion and hunger into the embrace. His tongue delved deep, stroking and caressing every inch of your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual dance.

One hand slid up your back, tangling in your silky hair, while the other gripped your hip, pulling your flush against him. He ground his hips against yours, letting your feel the hard, thick length of his arousal through the fabric of his trousers.

Alexei trailed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat, pausing to nip and suck at the sensitive skin. He could feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his lips.

He licked and kissed his way down to your collarbone, leaving wet kisses down to your chest, feeling your tremble beneath his touch. His mouth enveloped your breast, his tongue teasing the hard peak, hearing your moan in response.

His hand cupped your other breast, massaging it gently. He bit the tip, pulling it between his teeth until he heard your whimper. Only then did he allow himself to continue, leaving more kisses down your belly.

Alexei settled back on the vanity stool, lifting his face to admire how needy you looked, a complete mess. His fingers reached the inside of your thigh, drawing lazy half circles before moving up a little higher. He groaned at the feel of how wet your pussy was. "Is this where you need me, my love?"

You felt your entire body flush at the feel of his touch, the way his eyes seemed to devour you.

"Y-yes," you replied weakly, spreading your legs further apart without even realizing it. "I need... I need-" You couldn't continue, you couldn't put into words what you wanted. Unable to contain yourself, your hips rolled, seeking more of his touch, any sensation that would fill the void between your legs.

He watched your hips undulate, seeking his touch, craving his possession. The needy, desperate sound of your voice only served to inflame his own desire.

With a low, guttural groan, Alexei's fingers found your slick, heated center. He stroked along your folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his digits. He circled your sensitive clit, teasing and tormenting your until your hips bucked and writhed against his touch.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Alexei leaned in, replacing his fingers with his mouth. He lapped at your essence, his tongue delving deep to taste your, to savor the sweet ambrosia of your desire. He suckled and flicked and teased, driving your closer to the edge of ecstasy with every stroke of his tongue.

He could feel the heat of your core, the way your body trembled and quivered with need. He knew you was close, and he was determined to push your over the precipice, to help your find the release you so desperately craved.

He looked up at your, his eyes intense as he spoke against your slick flesh. “Let go, my love. Give yourself to me, to this moment. I want to feel you come undone. Trust in me. Let me love you, all of you.”

With that, Alexei redoubled his efforts, his tongue and lips and fingers working in tandem to drive your to the heights of ecstasy. He could feel your body tensing, your muscles tightening, and he knew you was on the cusp of something extraordinary.

Your fingers wrapped around the soft curls of his hair, moaning as you felt yourself coming undone. "Alexei," you repeated his name over and over.

Your eyes fixed on his face between your legs, on the way his hands held you open. Exposed.

"Alexei, I'm... I'm going to... God."

Your eyes closed as you felt that strand snap. Eliciting a louder moan from your, leaving your euphoric, in ecstasy. Completely lost in pleasure.

Alexei felt you body stiffen and then shudder as your climax washed over your. The sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer, like a plea, only heightened his own desire.

He could feel the heat of your essence flooding his mouth as he worked your through your orgasm, his tongue gentling as he helped your ride out the waves of pleasure.

As your body went limp, Alexei gentled his touch, placing soft kisses on your sensitive flesh as he slowly withdrew. He looked up at your through hooded eyes, taking in the sight of your lost in the throes of ecstasy, your face flushed and your hair disheveled, a look of pure bliss on your face.

With a low, possessive growl, Alexei surged up her body, capturing your lips in a kiss. He could taste himself on your, the musky essence of your arousal mingling with the sweetness of your own mouth. It only fueled his desire, his need to be inside your.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your up onto the vanity so they could walk across the room together. Gently, he laid your down on the bed, pausing to remove his own clothes. It bobbed against his belly, hard and thick and ready.

He was quick to climb on top of your body, growling as he felt his cock poke at your pussy. He needed to control himself, you was still a virgin. Alexei needed to be careful.

You moaned, too sensitive to any touch from him. Your arms wrapped around him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against yours. The way he wrapped you around him. It was like you were on cloud nine.

Hesitantly, you lowered your hand, your fingers wrapping around him, feeling the weight and the way he pulsed. And the way Alexei moaned encouraged you to continue your exploratory touch. In shock, you realized that you wanted him inside you.

Alexei shuddered as you small hand wrapped around his throbbing length, your gentle touch sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He groaned into their kiss, his hips flexing instinctively as he thrust into your hand, seeking more of that exquisite sensation. The feel of your slender fingers exploring his thick, pulsing cock only served to inflame his desire.

Breaking the kiss, Alexei looked down at your with lust-darkened eyes, his voice a low, husky rasp. “You feel what you do to me, my love?” he murmured, his hips rolling slowly, his hard length sliding through your soft palm. “You feel how much I need you, how desperate I am to be inside you?”

Alexei's hand covered yours, guiding it to stroke him with more purpose, more pressure. He groaned at the feel of your slender fingers tightening around him, at the way your thumb brushed over the sensitive head of his cock. His other hand slid up your side, cupping the soft weight of your breast, his fingers plucking at the hardened peak.

Alexei's eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths. “Are you ready for me, my love?” he asked softly, his voice rough with desire. “Ready to feel me inside you, filling you, loving you?” He nudged his cock head against your slick entrance, feeling your heat, your softness.

You reacted to his words, feeling your body shiver in anticipation.

Your eyes didn’t leave his, whimpering at the feel of his cock pressed against your slick slit.

“Yes," you sighed, "yes, please, Alexei,” you begged, the words slipping from your lips.

With a low, possessive growl, he captured your lips in a kiss, pouring all of his love and desire into the embrace. At the same time, he slowly, gently pushed forward, feeling your slick, tight heat enveloping the sensitive head of his cock.

He broke the kiss to gaze into your eyes, his own blue orbs blazing with passion and tenderness. “You feel so good, my love,” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. “So tight, so perfect.” He pushed a little deeper, gritting his teeth at the exquisite sensation of your body yielding to his.

Alexei's hand slid down to your hip, gripping it gently as he slowly, carefully began to ease himself into your. He could feel every inch of your silky walls clenching around him, drawing him in deeper, welcoming him home. It took every ounce of his control not to surge forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

He captured your lips again, swallowing your soft gasps and whimpers as he slowly, steadily pushed forward until he felt a barrier. Alexei paused, his heart hammering in his chest. “This might hurt for a moment, my darling,” he murmured against your lips. “But I promise, it will only be for a moment. And then, my love, it will only bring us closer, bind us tighter.”

With a final, gentle push, Alexei broke through your maidenhead. He stilled, letting your adjust to the new sensation, the new feeling of fullness. He peppered your face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

Tears welled up in your eyes. He was too big, it was like you were being ripped apart.

Alexei's heart ached at the sight of you tears, the way your hips instinctively tried to pull away from the unfamiliar, almost painful sensation of his thick length stretching your untouched walls.

He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with love and understanding. “Shhh, my darling,” he murmured softly, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “I know it hurts, and I'm so sorry. But it will pass, I promise you.” He kissed your softly, tenderly, his lips moving over yours with a gentleness that belied the passion burning within him.

You gritted your teeth, allowing him to soothe you with his gentle kisses and sweet words, your fingers curling under his biceps, letting out some of what you were feeling. It still hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. “Can you…” You began, your voice small, searching his gaze.

At your hesitant question, Alexei's heart swelled with love and devotion. “Yes, my love,” he said softly, his voice low and intimate. “I can go slow, as slow as you need me to. We'll take this at your pace, and I'll make sure you feel nothing but pleasure.” He nuzzled your neck, pressing soft kisses to your racing pulse. “Just tell me what you need. I'm here for you, always.”

Alexei's hands slid down to cup your rear, gently kneading the soft flesh as he slowly, carefully began to move within your, his strokes shallow and deliberate.You felt your heart warm at his words, the way he prioritized you. It helped make the pain more bearable. And you trusted him, God, you really did trust him.

A moan of pain escaped your lips when he moved. And then you moaned for an entirely different reason.

You felt something tighten inside you, making you want more. Need more."A-Alexei, I-" You began, your voice cracking as he hit a part of you that made you shiver. You fell back into the pillow, whimpering, "M-more, I need... oh," you moaned again as he hit that same spot.

The way you arched into him, your back bowing off the bed, your nails digging into his biceps, spurred him on. He could feel the tight, velvet heat of your sheath clenching around him, drawing him in deeper with every thrust.

He groaned softly as you pleaded for more, her voice breaking on a moan that sent shivers down his spine. Determined to give your the pleasure you craved, Alexei began to thrust with more purpose, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that had him hitting that sensitive spot inside your with each drive forward.

Alexei leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as he loved your with his body. His hand slid between their sweat-slicked bodies to find your pearl, his fingers circling and stroking the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his pistoning length. Knowing you was close, Alexei doubled his efforts, his voice a low, urgent rasp against your lips. “That's it, my love,” he encouraged your, his breath hot and ragged. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone around me, want to hear you scream my name as you find your pleasure.”

He could tell you was on the very precipice of a shattering climax, and he was determined to help your fly over that edge into pure, unadulterated bliss.

His fingers circled your sensitive pearl with more urgency, stroking and rubbing the swollen nub as he drove into your, his hips setting a relentless pace. Alexei could feel his own release swiftly approaching, but he was focused solely on you, on bringing your to a peak of ecstasy before he allowed himself to let go.

He captured your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste your, to feel yourr respond to his passion. His other hand slid up to cup your breast, his fingers plucking and rolling the hardened peak, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.Alexei broke the kiss to blazing into your eyes, his voice a low, commanding growl.

“Come for me,” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “Give yourself to me, now and forever.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Alexei drove deep into your welcoming heat, his length pulsing and throbbing as he felt your walls clamp down around him like a vice. He threw his head back, a guttural groan of pure male satisfaction tearing from his throat as he found his own release, his seed spurting forth to mark your, to claim your as his own.

Your walls clamping down around him like a velvet vise as you found your own shattering climax. The sound of his name falling from your lips in a scream of pure ecstasy was the most erotic, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It spurred him on, urging him to drive into your with a newfound urgency, to prolong your pleasure and push your to new heights.

He could feel your body going limp beneath him, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Alexei gentled his touch, his hands sliding over your sweat-slicked skin with a tenderness that belied the passion still burning within him. He pressed soft kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

Slowly, carefully, Alexei rolled to the side, taking you with him so you was draped over his chest. He tucked your head under his chin, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, possessive hold. His fingers stroked over your hair, through your sweat-dampened curls, as he let your catch your breath.

Alexei's heart swelled with a love so profound, so all-encompassing, that it took his breath away. Making love to you had been a revelation, a confirmation of the deep, abiding bond between them. He knew, without a doubt, that he would spend the rest of his life loving your, cherishing your, and protecting your.He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his voice a low, reverent murmur.

“That was incredible, my love,” he said softly, his heart full to bursting with emotion. “You were incredible. I love you so much. Today, tomorrow, and for all the days to come. You are mine, and I am yours, now and forever.” Alexei's arms tightened around your, holding your close as he savored the feel of your soft, warm body against his. In that moment, he knew he was the happiest, the most contented man alive.

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