Aleksander Morozova X Reader - Blog Posts

"Starstruck"

Original gifs by @kamillahn

Aleksander Morozova x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Praise kink, size kink, mentions of semi public sex, bit of a choking kink, bit of manipulation (come on guys, this is the darkling here), mild self esteem issues.

After a night of drinks with friends in a strange country, you let a tall, dark and handsome stranger take you home. The next morning, you discover you slept with a super star.

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A DRINK

You tried not to make a sound as you scouted the bedroom for your underwear. The early morning glow filtering through the blinds that in your enthusiasm you had failed to close, provided you with barely enough light to find your sparkly dress, but your cream colored panties, so close in shade to the plush carpet under your feet, were another thing completely. Giving up, you sighed, getting up from the floor. It was useless, the panties were probably as ruined as the torn thighs in your hands anyway. Tall, dark and handsome please-call-me-Sasha had been very thorough in his wreckage of you the night before.

Leaving such a path of destruction behind was apparently, exhausting, because said man was currently snoring softly, hugging his pillow, looking far too innocent for someone who had done such wicked things to you in that very same bed -not to mention the elevator, or the ride home, or the bathroom bar before that- not even a handful of hours ago, and far too beautiful for your poor heart. Tearing your eyes away from that angelic sight was almost as hard as tearing yourself from his arms five minutes before, but you forced yourself to do it. He wasn't yours to keep, and though he had been very passionate about you last night, who knew what his reaction to you would be in the harsh light of day.

You told yourself it wasn't cowardice, you simply would rather to keep your memory of him and your perfect one night stand like that, perfect than have it tainted by the regret in his face when he woke up to... well, you. You also told yourself it wasn't a self esteem issue either, you considered yourself an average, moderately attractive woman. The thing was, he wasn’t moderately attractive. He was drop dead, hollywoodesque, carved by the gods cliché level of hot.

Yes, better to save yourself and him the awkwardness of the morning after and leaving before he woke up. Besides, you had a day full of bridesmaid duty ahead of you, the sooner you could get back to your hotel, the better.

If only you could find your other boot...

And maybe a hoodie or something to borrow, you didn't mind (much) the walk home in last night's dress, but you didn't really fancy to freeze in the glaciar air of Ravkan early spring mornings either. 

It looked like divine providence when you located both items in the reading nook by the window, all you needed to do was navigate around Sasha's side of the bed without waking him, and the task didn't seem a difficult one, considering all you had to do was walking barefoot on a very plushy rug to the other side of the room. In a couple of seconds, your treasure was within reach and you were bending down to grab your elusive left boot, grey knitted hoodie already in hand, when you saw it.

There, greater than life, staring right back at you through the windowpane from a gigantic billboard across the street, was your one night stand's face. Sure, the hair was longer, darker and the beard was thicker but there was no possible mistake, no chance of it being a simple, if uncanny, resemblance. Not when that face sported the same cupid's bow, the same onix eyes, hell, the same freaking beauty mark under his left eye. And it was really dramatic too, his tall figure, all clad in black in medieval period clothes, huge green characters against a dark background announcing "Aleksandr Morozov is The Dark One". Your limited knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet prevented you from reading the name of the movie but one thing was clear: This wasn't a small or independent production, this was big, this was mainstream, a lot of money had to be involved for such a massive sized campaign. And for him to be the focus of it, for his name, albeit unknown to you, to be advertised like that, as big as the name of the movie, it could only mean that his name had weight, that it was as important as the movie or show they were promoting. 

You had slept with a freaking movie star. 

Suddenly, the luxury surrounding you was so conspicuous, so glaringly obvious you wondered how you hadn't noticed before. The soft hoodie in your hands was high quality cashmere, the luscious carpet under your feet probably real fur, the books lining the bookshelves, precious first editions. 

Jesus, had the opulent car that had taken you there the night before been his car, his chauffeur instead of an Uber ride like you had originally thought?

You were so stunned, so lost in thought, you didn't even notice your date was awake, until a hand shot through the air, quick as a whip, catching your wrist. 

In two movements, you were flat on the bed, sleepy, irresistibly disheveled, completely naked Aleksandr Morozov hovering over you.

"Where do you think you're going, malyshka?" 

In complete disconnect from your still short circuiting brain, melting twice over because he was there, so handsome and so close -and had you mentioned, naked?- you opened your mouth. 

"You're famous" 

A beat of silence. Then two. Until he finally grinned, easy and charming and handsome as the devil. 

"I am. Is that a problem?" 

He said it casually, smirk still firm on his face, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something guarded, something almost sad about them then, something that made your gut twist with guilt, your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

"No, of course not!" You scoffed, searching for the right words to reassure, to comfort. 

But he was already over it, if the way he dived to kiss your neck was any indication, as the hand not braced against the mattress stroked the contours of your body, skimming the side of your breast, caressing the curve of your hip, splaying on the outside of your thigh, down and down until his fingers found your knee, hooking on the back of it to bend your leg around his slim hips as they pushed your thighs apart. 

"I- I have to go…" You stammered as his hand found its way to the inside of your thigh. 

"Do you, now?" Was that amusement in his voice?

“Yes. Ana, my friend, is getting married the day after tomorrow and I can't just bail on her when-” He swallowed the rest of your sentence, kissing you, open mouthed and slow, managing to make it dirty and sweet at the same time. Sensual. 

You couldn't remember anyone kissing you quite like that before, with such artistry, such abandon. As if the kiss wasn't a preamble or a means to an end, but a sexual act in and of itself. 

“You taste like my toothpaste” He growled into your mouth, before slipping his tongue past your lips again, chasing the flavor, hips undulating against yours so languidly, so softly, you doubted he was even aware he was doing it. 

You hated yourself for ending the kiss even as your lungs burned from lack of oxygen, but as you broke it and let air fill your lungs, so did your head fill with clarity and you remembered the long day of bridesmaid duty you had ahead of you.

“Im sorry, I really am” You lamented, sincerely, “I'd love nothing more than staying and spending the morning with you, but I really have to go”

Aleksander didn't seem to hear it, though, staring intently at you, index finger tracing the line of your brow, the bridge of your nose, your cheekbone, as if trying to commit your face to memory. 

“Sasha? Sasha! Are you even listening to me?”

Aleksander shook his head,

“Sorry” He didn't sound sorry at all, “It's just, you are truly beautiful in the daylight”

You felt your cheeks get warm again, so you buried your face against his neck, the way his breath hitched not escaping your notice. So, his neck was sensitive, interesting.

No, you couldn't let yourself get distracted again. You had to return to your life, had to get out of there before things could get any further. It was one thing to sleep with the sexiest man you had ever met under cover of darkness, with alcohol blurring his perception and your inhibitions. To let him fuck you completely sober in broad daylight was an entire different beast. 

“I mean it, Sasha, I have to go”

He let his whole body weight fall on you, trapping you under him. 

“I'm afraid I can't let you go, malyshka” He replied, not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the place where his hands were pushing up your already short dress till it was indecently bunched around your hips. 

“Why not?” You questioned, even as you let his fingers slide between your legs, find the wetness already seeping there for him. He didn't comment on your lack of underwear, which made you suspect he knew exactly what had happened to your panties and their whereabouts. 

"Because" He started as his index and middle fingers grazed your slit, coating them on your slick before coming up to rub circles on your clit, a rhythmic, electrifying friction sending sparks up your abdomen in record time, "I'm supposed to be dating my co-star, and as much as I like this pretty little dress of yours, if a paparazzi or a fan sees you leave my house in it, we'll both be in big trouble…" 

Your hand was on his wrist in an instant, trying, inefficiently, to halt his movements.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend??"

“It's not real, moya malyshka” He appeased, soothingly petting your head in a deeply patronizing gesture, “it's all make believe, publicity for the show”

Offended by his condescension, you batted the hand still patting your hair away, but he chose that moment to breach your entrance, just barely, only burying his fingers to the first knuckle, yet enough to send a wave of pleasure through your lower belly. 

“I'm only asking you to have a little patience,” You tried to focus on his words but it was really hard when he kept teasing your entrance like that, penetrating you less than an inch at a time and withdrawing his fingers again, only to caress your labia, your slit, your clit with a butterfly's wing pressure. “Just wait here until I can call my assistant to bring you some casual clothes, so if someone sees you leave here, at least it won't be so obvious you spent the night…” He rolled your clit between the pads of his fingertips then, making your eyes roll back. “Just a couple of hours, what do you say, pretty girl? I promise I'll make it worth your while…”

It did sound like a logical course of action, you were sure that made sense, or as much sense you could make of something with his hands driving you to distraction like that.

“Just… just a couple of hours?” It was pretty early anyway, your friends would probably sleep till noon, nursing their own hangovers, they wouldn't even notice your absence.

“Just a handful of hours” He brought his thumb to the mix, ghosting it over your most sensitive nub of nerves.

“Oh… ok” You sighed, giving in.

“There's a good girl” You could hear the smirk in his voice but couldn't find it in yourself to care, not when he rewarded you by burying his fingers inside you to the hilt wasting no time in starting to pump them in and out, thumb rubbing at your clit expertly, multiplying your pleasure to eleven right then and there. He seemed to relish in the noises leaving your throat, whispering praises in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. “That's it, just like that, let me take care of you. I can make it good for you… let me make it good for you…”

“Yes…”

His strokes changed then, exploring, searching your tight, wet heat for something. You knew the moment he found it because sparks exploded behind your eyelids, making you whimper and moan, and writhe. He pinned your hips to the bed with his other hand, keeping you in place as he intensified his assault, picking up the pace. 

It was almost embarrassing, how quickly you had become such a mess in his hands. 

"So beautiful… so responsive… God, you're perfect" 

You had never been one for praise kink, but his words in that voice, so deliciously husky with desire, was doing something to you. Something that obliterated your brain function better than any drink ever did. 

"Yeah, just like that… ride my hand just like that, looks so sexy… Fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen…" 

You had no idea when you had started following the movements of his fingers with your hips but you were glad he liked it; you didn't think you could stop if you tried, you were too close, too far gone.

"Wanna see you ride my cock just like that… think you can do that for me, malyshka?"

You nodded not really processing his words, you would have done anything he asked of you at that moment, that was why it was so disorienting to suddenly find your positions reversed, with him laying on the bed on his back, and you manhandled until you were straddling his lap.

"Are you ready for it, malyshka?"

A quick look down told you you weren't. Objectively, you knew you had already managed it the night before, but you hadn't seen it. Now, faced with the dimensions, the sheer girth of the appendage he called his dick, you froze.

Obviously, Aleksander noticed your hesitation.

"I know, printsessa, I know. It's too big for you isn't it?" 

You felt yourself nodding, eyes drawn back to where his hand was stroking his length leisurely. You had the distinct impression he was showing off for you. Bastard. 

"But you can take it, I know you can. You took it so well last night…" There it was again, that damned praising that made you want to do anything he said, fly yourself to the moon and back, only to get to hear that sinful voice call you a good girl again. So you let him notch the flared head of his cock to your entrance but didnt push inside, letting you take control, take your time, which you were grateful for because the stretch of his tip alone felt like almost too much, soaked and eager as you were.

You lowered yourself slowly, feeling every inch, every ridge and vein, watching in satisfaction as his eyes rolled back inside his head, as his hands flew to your asscheeks like he needed the purchase. Like he was as affected as you were. The little groans leaving his mouth motivated you to keep going whenever the strain threatened to be too much, until you were sat flush to his pelvis. You took a moment, then, as much to get used to him, to the feeling of being filled to the brim by his massive cock, as to center yourself. 

When you finally felt ready to start moving, you opened your eyes to find him staring up at you, slack-jawed, as if awestruck, as if he couldn't believe such a tight fit either. Rocking your hips just a little proved enough for his mouth to fall open completely, the most pornographic sound you had ever heard resonating through the room and searing itself onto your brain.

This man was going to be the death of you. 

“Just like that… fuck, you feel so good”

You wanted to tell him the same, wanted to tell him how incredible his cock felt inside of you but your voice was stuck in your throat, mouth open, fixed in a silent oh. Your silence didn't deter him though, because he kept whispering dirty nothings as your hips picked up their rhythm, hands grabbing at your thighs, your ass, your hips, everywhere he could reach that was unimpeded by your dress, adding fuel to the fire already burning low on your belly thanks to the maddening friction of his pubic hair scraping your sensitive clit as you rocked on top of him.

It wasn't enough.

To be stuffed full of him, to have his mesmerized attention, his hands on you. No, you were greedy, hungry. You wanted more. You wanted everything.

So you took the hem of your sequined dress and lift it over yourself, revealing all of your body to Aleksanders ravenous gaze. 

“Ara, moya malyshka… yes, take it all off!” Aleksanders hands flew immediately to your ribcage, traveling up to seize your breasts, squeezing the handfuls and making your head fall back in pleasure. “I knew youd look beautiful sitting on my cock, krasotka…”

“Sasha…” You managed to plead.

“Do you need something, malyshka?” 

You nodded.

“Do you need more? Do you need me to fuck you?”

“Yes” you were not above begging, “Sasha, please…”

He didn't reply with words, instead, he snaked an arm around your back, holding you to him as he sat up and started moving you up and down his cock one handed, the other cupping your face, holding you in place as he devoured your lips. Your own fingers searched, blindly, gripping at his dark locks, trapping him as much as he was trapping you, if only to have something to brace yourself against the slight sting of being stretched almost to your limit, the abrasion of his cock pistoning in and out of you, reaching deep, impossible deeper with every upward thrust. 

“Sasha…” You exhaled into his mouth, and he breathed it in, as drunk with passion as you felt, little moans in tandem with yours. 

You could feel it building already, every impact of his thighs against your ass, of his pubic bone against your clit hurtling you up higher and higher, a climb that almost frightened you, you weren't sure you would survive the fall.

But there was no stopping it, no way to fight it, not when Aleksander let go of your mouth just to lock his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling with far less skill, far less self control than he had shown as he fingers you open, biting on your little nub with enough force to hurt, to really send a sharp pang of pain that echoed through your body mixing and blurring with the pleasure until you didn't know which was which, until you didn't know if you wanted to lean into it or get away. 

The decision was made for you (or maybe there was never a decision to make) anyway, as his thrusts found that elusive little spot his fingers had already conquered before, and you were falling, abruptly and unprepared,  coming with such force you thought you'd might break apart, come undone at the seams, shattered by the force of an orgasm so powerful even Aleksander felt it, hissing at the vice like grip of your cunt strangling his cock as your climax rippled through you. 

"Fuck! Just like that, come all over my cock, Malyshka, give it to me, let me feel it…" 

You could tell he was close too, his movements faster, more erratic and found that you wanted it, wanted to feel him come inside you, feel him fall apart with you. 

So you reach out, wrapping your hands around his neck, and squeezed, crushing his pipeline, until his words were nothing more than an unintelligible wheezing, until his eyes widened and his face went red with lack of oxygen. 

Until you felt his cock pulsate inside you and the liquid warmth of his come paint your womb. 

You collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, chest to chest, heartbeats pounding in unison, both shipwrecked by the intensity of what had just happened.

"You know," You panted, after a few minutes, "If your evil masterplan was using sex to stop me from leaving… it totally worked, I can't even move my legs'' 

His only response was a far too self satisfied laugh.

***

"Are you sure, Ivan?"

You were standing naked on the heated tiles of Aleksander's bathroom, tapping away on your phone as he ran a bath for both of you (you had insisted on a shower at first since it would have been quicker, but one glance at his colossal labradorite bathtub had obliterated all your resistance). The entire bridal party had watched you leave the impromptu Bachelorette's with "the Aleksandr Morozov lookalike" and were now demanding details, the dirtier the better. 

"... and there isn't anything you can do? Well, can't you ask Alina for help?"

That name you did know: Alina Starkova's face was everywhere, starring in the campaigns of every luxury brand from Bvlgari to Lancome. You simply had thought she was a new supermodel, up until half an hour ago you had no idea she was an actress, let alone Sasha's co-star and fake girlfriend. 

That you were absolutely not jealous of. No, if the name made you lift your eyes from your phone screen, it was mere interest. No pang of annoyance or anything else remotely unpleasant. That was ridiculous, you didn't even know the woman.

Aleksander was pacing the bathroom, as naked as you but somehow managing to still look regal af, even as he closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

"Fine. No, seriously, it's ok…" the rest of his sentence was spoken in a ravkan so fast you had no hope of translating, but when he was done, he put his own phone away and turned to you.

"Was that your assistant?" 

"Yeah, Ivan" He confirmed, sighing, "I'm sorry, malyshka, but apparently there's a handful of paparazzi camping on my doorstep, I'll have to ask you to stay a little while longer while we figure out what to do about them" He sounded sincerely apologetic, "You don't have to say yes, of course, and I would never force you to stay, but you would really, really spare me a scandal if you do" 

You frowned, and his face fell even further.

"You keep calling me that, but I don't know what it means"

It was his turn to frown a little, in confusion, 

"What? Malyshka?"

You nodded. He smiled, just a little bit, taking a step towards you, into your personal space.

"It means 'babygirl'"

You scrunched up your nose,

"So what, I'm supposed to call you 'daddy' in return?" 

"Of course not," He replied, wrapping his arms around you, "just call me papa"

"Ugh, no way!" You batted away at his chest, but couldn't disguise the smile trying to break free. If it was a little goofy, well, no one had to know "I'm not calling you that, you dirty old man!"

"We'll see…" He shrugged, noncommittal, before bending to kiss your smirk off your face, "Wait, so, you're not mad?"

You shook your head, rising to your tiptoes to kiss him again.

"Nah, it just means we have more time in the bathtub" He hummed at that, hand on the small of your back traveling lower. "To wash!" You admonished. He didn't look chastised at all. "And after that… you can make me breakfast"

His smile was real this time, big and open.

"Of course, anything you want… Papa will give his malyshka everything she wants"

"Ew, stop!" 

His laughter filled the bathroom, and your heart, with warmth. 

The end?

FUUUUUUCCKKKKKK AAHHHHHH, OKAY SO IM NOT EVEN IN THE FANDOM AND NEITHER HAVE I WATCHED THE SHOW OR READ THE BOOK(S?) BUT OML I- WHATT THATWASOHOTWTFPLS SAVE ME

Uncle Sasha

Pairing: Modern!Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite your insistence that Aleksander is not your uncle, Alina is still under the impression that you have a very hot uncle.

Warnings [18+]: Aleksander rubs sun lotion over the reader’s body, alcohol consumption, reader is very desperate for Aleksander.

My Masterlist

»»---------------------►

“Your uncle is so hot.”

Glancing up from your book, you frown at Alina as she slumps herself down on the sun lounger next to you. Looking around in puzzlement, you soon find your three uncles gathered around the barbecue with your dad. Your nose wrinkles at the thought of your friend finding any of them attractive. Nevertheless, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask,

“Which one?”

“The one that’s looking at us right now.” She looks down hurriedly, a blush coating her cheeks. Your frown deepens, and you scour the yard in search of anyone looking your way.

Then your eyes meet Aleksander’s. The corner of his mouth quirks into a half smile, and your stomach flips. You offer him a shy smile of your own, before forcing yourself to laugh as you turn back to your friend.

“He’s not my uncle.” She looks up at you with confusion in her eyes.

“But Harry called him Uncle Sasha.” You smile.

“All my cousins call him Uncle Sasha.” You shake your head. “Aleksander Morozov - he’s one of dad’s business partners.”

You had never called him Uncle Sasha, and you had always argued that the nickname was for the younger kids, after all, he wasn’t actually your uncle.

“So he’s rich too?”

You give her a scolding look, but she simply rubs her hands together conspiratorially which draws a more genuine laugh from you. Then she unties the strings at the back of her bikini top. Your jaw drops.

“Alina, what are you-“

She only giggles in response.

“Rub some lotion on me will you?”

She then winks and lies down on her front. Giving both you and Aleksander a clear view of her ass, and the tiny triangle of fabric she’s wearing as bottoms. You don’t move for a solid three seconds, too astounded by what she’s asking for - and why.

Squirting some sun lotion onto your hands, you feel a little self conscious that you’ve been drawn into this plan of Alina’s to attract Aleksander’s attention. You can feel his eyes on you, and you do your best not to look at him.

Instead, you focus on smoothing your hands over Alina’s soft skin. Of course Aleksander would look over at her. You move your thumbs in circles as you rub the lotion in, almost massaging her, and her hips shift slightly.

She lifts her head up, turning towards you.

“You should put a little under my waistband. Just in case.” Your mind is far too scrambled with embarrassment and anxiety to notice her glancing over to meet Aleksander’s gaze.

Smearing more lotion on your hands, you carefully lift up the waistband of her bottoms and run your hands along the length of her waist. You pray that your parents, or any other family member for that matter, aren’t looking over at this point. You’re consumed by these thoughts, until a shadow passes over Alina’s body, bringing you back to reality.

Then you hear a warm, silky voice say,

“Good afternoon ladies.” You look up and meet Aleksander’s dark eyes.

From your position on the sun lounger, you’re eye level with his crotch, and you know he sees your gaze flicker down briefly. Alina sits up with a dazzling smile.

“Thanks, love. Will you do me up?”

You fumble with the strings as Alina directs her attention to Aleksander.

“Mr Morozov, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and you must be Alina.” She brings one of her knees up to her chest, curling her arms around the folded limb as she grins.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Only good things I assure you.”

Your cheeks warm as you remember you had briefly told Aleksander that you’d invited Alina over. It had only been a passing conversation - as all your conversations with Aleksander were.

He turns his attention back to you.

“Would you like some help with that milaya?” He asks, gesturing down to the bottle of lotion that you’re currently fiddling with. “We wouldn’t you to get burnt either, now would we?”

You blink up at him, and he shakes his head slightly with widened eyes as if he were miming the response he wanted from you. You hurry to shake your head in response, before adding a small,

“Please.”

He settles on the lounger next to you, his long fingers curling around the bottle and you turn to face Alina so that Aleksander can apply the lotion to your back. Alina pulls a face that shows you what she thinks of you not being brave enough to lie down on the lounger - completely at Aleksander’s mercy. You stick your tongue out in response.

Aleksander observes the encounter quietly as he smooths the lotion over his palms.

“I gather that the two of you are close?” He says, and prevents you from answering as his cool fingers rub over your shoulders. Alina answers him instead.

“We’ve known each other since high school.”

Aleksander’s hands are large, and feel so much better than yours must have felt to Alina. He takes his time, running over the length of your back. You hardly breathe when his fingers dip under your waistband, and you wonder if he likes what he sees.

Aleksander’s fingers trace along the curve of your spine, and you squirm. Alina knows you better than you know yourself. So, when she had seen you look at Aleksander she knew you wanted him. You can see the mischief in her eyes as Aleksander continues to touch you. She looks sickeningly pleased with herself as she picks up the book you were reading.

It’s only Aleksander’s voice that pulls you away from her gaze.

“Turn around milaya, let me do your front.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to, I can do-“

“Nonsense. Let me.”

Aleksander’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Alina looks thrilled at the prospect. So, on shaky legs you turn and face Aleksander. He gives you a fond smile that makes your embarrassment seem worthwhile. That is until he puts his hands back on you.

He smooths over your neck, fingers curling ever so slightly around your throat, and you know he sees the glazed look in your eyes.

“You’ve missed a spot.” Alina says lightly, and you shoot her a glance. She only grins at you, turning a page with a delicate finger.

Aleksander pays her no mind as he slides his fingers under the straps of your bikini top, and you try your hardest not to squirm. His touch is featherlight against your collarbones, and you want to arch into him.

He squeezes more lotion onto his palm which he then spreads over your stomach. You jump at the contact and a small gasp leaves your lips. Aleksander looks at you, there’s concern in his eyes, but he raises a brow as if he’s scolding you for squirming.

“Sorry. Just cold.” You mumble. The corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk.

In a few smooth motions, Aleksander has covered your thighs in lotion, and you hold you breath for the entire time. When he’s done he looks back at your face, no doubt taking in your wide eyes and rapidly expanding chest.

Alina grins, leaning over your lounger with a towel, before passing it to Aleksander.

“Say thank you to Uncle Sasha.” She teases.

His dark eyes meet yours, and your cheeks are aflame. You’ve never called him that. But the words are right there on the tip of your tongue, your lips already parted to say it aloud. Then your mom calls out your name. You sigh in relief and scramble up away from them both.

“I’ll be right back.” You tell them, knowing it’s a lie.

You spend the rest of the day avoiding them both.

»»---------------------►

It gets worse from that moment onwards.

Your crush on Aleksander had always been a secret - it was a private fantasy of yours that you never even dreamed of acting upon.

After the encounter during your family barbecue, Aleksander doesn’t stop plaguing your life.

You’re half asleep, drinking your morning tea in your parents’ kitchen, enjoying the peace before you sister and her children arrive to wreak havoc on the house. As you lower the mug from your lips you nearly choke on the liquid already halfway down your throat. Aleksander raises a brow at you as he waltzes into the kitchen with messy bed head, wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts.

“Aleksander, what are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you too milaya.” He says breezily as he opens up the cupboard beside you to pull out some bread. You watch, in something akin to disbelief, as he makes toast.

Why does he look more comfortable in your family home than you do?

“Did you sleep well?” He asks you. No you most certainly did not. Every time your eyes fluttered closed, ready to sleep, the feeling of Aleksander’s hands gliding down your body in strong firm motions haunted you. You decide to deflect,

“You haven’t answered my question.” He raises a brow at you as you sit at the kitchen island. You open the tub of cereal and pour yourself a bowlful. “What are you doing here?”

He glances down at the plate in front of him, as he spreads jam over his toast.

“I’m making toast.” He lifts his eyes up to meet yours, and there’s a playful twinkle in their depths. Your mouth parts. You don’t know how to respond. Of course you knew he was capable of being charming and funny, you had seen him play with your cousins, nephews, and nieces.

But he had always seemed so reserved around you. Your conversations had been limited to small talk, that you had replayed over in your mind for hours afterwards, chastising yourself for being so painfully shy.

Aleksander seems to take pity on you, and fills the silence with a more genuine answer.

“Your father and I were working on some contracts, late into the night, and he offered me the guest room. What time did you arrive?”

“Just after midnight.”

His brows crinkle, then he nods,

“I must have just missed you.” You fiddle with your spoon, spinning the pieces of cereal around in the bowl.

You don’t know how you would have reacted meeting Aleksander on the landing as you made your way to your room last night. Perhaps you would have slept better knowing he was in the house. Maybe you would have slept worse.

You throw a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, trying to think of something to say once you’ve finished munching.

“Did you finish the contracts?” He nods before he glances at the clock.

“I’ll be going in to submit them soon.”

“Today?” He nods again, slowly this time. “But it’s a Saturday.” He laughs softly, and you almost melt into a puddle on the floor.

“It won’t be for long milaya. I’ll back before you know it.”

“You’ll be back?”

“Your mother invited me to dinner.”

Oh fantastic.

Aleksander finishes his breakfast quicker than you, mostly because you spend more time playing with your food than eating it. You usually don’t eat much for breakfast, but in your nervousness you’d poured a ridiculously large bowl for yourself.

You hear the floorboards creak as he makes his way upstairs, and hear the guest room door swing open. There’s small rustling sounds, then he walks across the landing and into the bathroom. The door shuts, and you hear the lock click behind him. It’s only once you hear the shower water running that you breath a sigh of relief, and feel free to move around your own house.

He’s fully dressed when he emerges from the bathroom. A crisp white shirt which clings to his body in all the right places, dark formal pants and grey socks. Dark hair slicked back, but not too much, so you can still dream about ruffling it with your fingers. He’s the picture of perfection.

You suddenly feel very silly standing outside in the hallway wearing your pyjamas, with a bundle of clothes and a towel tucked against your chest. He acknowledges you with a nod and a small smile as he passes you in the hallway, before assuring you that he no longer needs the bathroom.

The entire room smells like Aleksander. You had noticed the small toiletries bag nestled under his arm, but you had assumed it just had simple necessities like his toothbrush and toothpaste.

Not his shower gel, or shampoo. The room is still warm from his shower, and you want to bask in the warmth of Aleksander’s scent. You wonder if this is what his bathroom smells like. Then you shove those thoughts away violently.

You don’t care what Aleksander’s bathroom smells like.

You don’t.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander was right, he was back before you knew it.

The weather isn’t as hot as the day of the barbecue, but the shorts and tank top you’re wearing today seemed appropriate. But as your youngest nephew tugs on the front of your top you realise your mistake. Luckily Aleksander scoops the boy up, rescuing you from disaster.

You smile gratefully at him, pretending not to notice how his eyes flicker down as you adjust the straps of your tank top.

“Thank you.” You say quietly.

“You’re welcome.” Then he turns to the child in his arms. “Now young man, we don’t take a lady’s clothes off without her permission. Isn’t that right milaya?” Your cheeks burn and you can’t respond, then you manage to fumble out a small nod.

“Very right.”

You keep yourself busy for the rest of the day, and away from Aleksander. But he seems impossible to escape.

When your mom tells you that the family is going out for dinner, and that Aleksander is invited, you breathe a sigh of relief. At least there’s no chance of you being left alone with Aleksander. So, you dress up nicely and wait by your car.

Because he’s a perfect gentleman, Aleksander helps your sister get her kids into your car, and gives you a small smile before he joins your parents in their car. Your heart is still pounding as you pull out outside the restaurant.

“Reservation under Morozov?” You say to the waiter, and he nods immediately and guides you over to a table. Everyone else is already seated. Meaning there’s only a few chairs left, namely one in front of Aleksander, and one next to Aleksander. You hesitate. Which one will be easiest for you to function at?

The decision is taken from you as your sister sits down in front of Aleksander. Meaning you take the seat beside him. He smiles at you as you sit, and warmth tingles through your body.

He spends the entire evening being ridiculously charming, and ridiculously attractive, and ridiculously funny. Aleksander doesn’t seem like a man with a sense of humour, but he’s often so quick witted it startles you. You find yourself laughing far too much at his jabs and remarks.

So, by the time you return home, you’re incredibly annoyed with him. And yourself. But mostly him. How dare he be so attractive and unattainable?

All you want to do is get into bed and escape this entire day. You hope that Aleksander will be driving home tonight, but you doubt it.

Then your parents ask you to join them for a drink in the living room, and you can’t refuse them. Aleksander sits in the armchair usually frequented by you. The armchair that you used to curl up on and read until your parents forced you to go to sleep.

The evening light casts a glow around him, and you swallow a large amount of wine in an attempt to stop thinking about him. You’re unsuccessful. As your parents and sister talk amongst themselves, all you can think about is Aleksander.

Your sister is the first one to leave, with her small gaggle of children you all know she needs the rest. Then your parents head up to bed. Leaving you alone with Aleksander.

Neither of you talk. He simply watches you, and you continue to drink as a means to distract yourself from the fact that he’s watching you. It’s only as you’re reaching for the rest of the bottle that he speaks, leaning forward to rest his hand over yours.

“I think you’ve had enough tonight milaya.”

“Oh you do?” He raises a brow at your tone, and heat pools between your legs.

You wonder what would happen if he let you continue drinking. Whether it would give you confidence to finally sit in his lap and kiss him senseless. Or better yet, to kneel at his feet, undo his trousers, and pull out his co-

“Fuck!” You hiss quietly, pressing your hand against your face as you realise where your thoughts had been going. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you nod enthusiastically as you agree with him. “I’ve had enough.”

“Would you like me to help you upstairs?” You nod, your eyes still closed in a dizzying mixture of shame and arousal.

“Please.”

His hand is on the small of your back as the two of you head upstairs, and you can feel his eyes on you. The warmth of his palm soaks through your dress, and you wish you could feel his hands all over you. You stumble slightly as you reach the door to your bedroom, and Aleksander catches you. His body presses yours against the doorframe, your chest flush with his. His eyes flicker down to your lips.

For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and your mind is filled with thoughts of him driving the air from your lungs with a searing kiss. Of him driving you hard against the wall, then carrying you to your bed to fuck you.

Aleksander takes your chin between his fingers, looking deep into your eyes. Anticipation claws at your skin, you need him so badly it hurts. He leans in and your eyes close, eager for him take.

Then he turns his head, and presses his lips to your cheek. The ghost of a kiss that makes you whimper. He closes his eyes, as if he’s memorising the sound. Or steeling himself to resist it. You don’t know which is worse.

“Sleep well milaya.”

He steps away, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. You stare at him with wide eyes.

He’s quiet as he withdraws himself from your space, and turns away quickly. You’re filled with the sudden need to make him ache. The same way he makes you ache. Your voice is soft, but you know it carries its way down the hallway to his ears.

“Goodnight Uncle Sasha.”

He stops still. He turns, but you’ve already slipped into your bedroom and the door is shut.

»»---------------------►

Beauty and the Beast ~ Darkling/Aleksander

One, two, three, four

😍

Vengeance & Vanity

Part 4

Pairing: The Darkling x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aleksander have established your place on the throne, and begun your search for the Firebird. Threats still linger on the horizon, and the two of you must plan ahead.

Word Count: 2.5K

My Masterlist

A cloud of dust hits your face, prompting yet another coughing fit.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” You remark through your weezing. Aleksander raises a brow at you, the corner of his lips twisting into a small grin.

“These books contain centuries worth of knowledge, it’s bound to be a little dusty. There’s no need for dramatics.”

“The poor Corporalnik that will have to restart my lungs might disagree.” You grumble, opening the cover of the offending book. Aleksander’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he sits down facing you. It’s rare to see such boyish charm on his face. The last few months have been difficult for you both. You have been slowly regaining your strength after recovering from the wasting sickness. Through your frustration and tears, Aleksander has been nothing but patient. His confidence in your abilities has been unfailing, as he has been teaching you to summon with one hand. He’s certain that you will soon master summoning from pure will alone. You don’t know how he does it all.

The two of you have been ruling Ravka with varying levels of success. The Little Palace has been reestablished, the damage done in the attack was repaired almost immediately. As often as you can, you and Aleksander walk along the path that leads from the Grand Palace to the Little Palace. You can only marvel at the changes made in the last few months. The previous King had always been cautious of the Grisha, and in order to ensure their safety, Aleksander had encouraged the Grisha to work within the Little Palace. There had been limits on what the Grisha had been allowed to work on so that they could not be seen as a threat to the monarchy. Now that the King was gone, the Fabrikators’ workshops had a colossal influx of ongoing projects, and collaboration between the orders. After years of hardship, the Grisha were finally beginning to thrive.

Despite the good you have both managed to implement, there are still several matters that continue to both trouble and vex you. The Apparat has been drawing more followers into joining the leagues of the Sun Cult. You are certain that the Apparat has ensured that Alina remains hidden. He is now reliant on the faith of her followers, with her in his custody, he can gather enough soldiers to pose a threat to you and Aleksander. Unfortunately, your raids have only uncovered crazed fanatics - no Sun Summoner or Apparat.

The other matter is the reason why you and Aleksander are tucked away in the library of the Grand Palace, breathing in dust and decay. When he first became the General of the Second Army, Aleksander safeguarded a number of Morozova’s journals and other books documenting the existence of his amplifiers. Whilst a number of them were stolen after your first attempt at removing the monarchy, Aleksander had the foresight to conceal a number of the books in one of the passages under the Little Palace. The two of you have been reading these books to the point of obsession, in an attempt to locate the Firebird.

Several years after the creation of the amplifiers, a Squaller explorer known only as the Bone Hunter sought to find Morozova’s creatures. The Bone Hunter’s journal documented their search, and is one of Aleksander’s most valued pieces. Not only is it the first documented mention of Morozova’s amplifiers, but the Bone Hunter is the only known person to have ever seen the Firebird. You and Aleksander have been scouring the library for the past few hours, attempting to decipher the words of the journal.

It’s written in Old Ravkan, so Aleksander has no trouble reading it. You had learnt how to read Old Ravkan, but you sometimes took the translations too literally, much to Aleksander’s amusement. The landscape and borders of Ravka have changed over the centuries, and the Bone Hunter was not the best at recounting geography. They often described significant trees, which was of no help to you or Aleksander. Trees lasted centuries, but these journals’ age exceeded the majority of Ravka’s forestry. At any point in which the journals mentioned rock formations or rivers, you and Aleksander would scour map after map, looking for any place in Ravka that the journals could be referring to.

You had both agreed that the two of you would search for the Firebird together. Leaving the capital without either of you to defend it had seemed like a poor decision to you, at first. Aleksander had reasoned that the Grisha and nichevo'ya were more than capable of defending Os Alta, and that it might take both of you to take down the Firebird. The first few entries that describe the Firebird detail its ferocity, how it had torn men apart and seized them with its talons before soaring up into the air, dropping the hunters to their deaths. After reading over these entries, you begin to agree with Aleksander. The thought of facing the Firebird alone is terrifying, but the two of you can do anything together.

»»---------------------►

Evenings are always reserved for you and Aleksander to spend time alone. During the day, neither of you stray too far from the other, after all, you rule side by side. The Tsar and his Tsaritsa. Aleksander nearly always has a hand on your back as you walk through the corridors. Your knees brush while you are sat in council meetings. But once you are in the privacy of your own rooms, the two of you are attached at the hip. You won’t leave Aleksander’s arms all night. You bathe together, taking the time to wash one another, then curl up on the sofa by the fire. Sometimes you both bring whatever books you’ve been reading, on rare occasions you will convince Aleksander to read aloud to you. Other nights you will simply spend in each other’s arms. Aleksander will trail his fingers over your skin, his thumb circling your cheek as he cups your face in his hand.

In these quiet moments you will share your dreams with each other. You both have the same plans for Ravka, but these moments are sacred and not to be tarnished with the stressors of the day. At night, the two of you are free to talk about your life together. Aleksander wants to live somewhere in the South of Ravka, where it’s warmer. You want to become a writer - to document discoveries in the Small Science, or create commentary on the lives of Grisha, or analyse historic texts. Aleksander wants to take you horse riding, just the two of you, travelling across Ravka together. These private dreams are what keep you both going. The thoughts of Ravka at peace, of Grisha living in safety, which allow the two of you to finally live solely for yourselves.

It’s during one of these evenings that Aleksander shares an idea with you.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asks, tilting his head to look at you. Your legs are draped over his thighs, your body pressed against his side.

“Of course.” He lifts a brow at you, encouraging you to recount it, at which you laugh softly as you remember. “I tried to pick your pocket.” He hums fondly as he casts his mind back, and you add quietly. “You know, you’re the only person who’s ever caught me.”

“Do you want to know why that is?”

“You sensed the presence of your soulmate?” You suggest with a small smirk. A smile tugs at his lips, and he laughs lightly.

“Close, but no.” You glance at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. “You were bending the shadows.” You frown at his explanation.

“How? I couldn’t summon for weeks after I arrived at the Little Palace.”

“I think you did it subconsciously, bending the shadows slightly, so that you would remain hidden while you rifled through my kefta.” You pause for a moment, thinking his words over.

“So I wasn’t actually a good thief, just a secret Shadow Summoner.” You comment, a small amount of dejection in your tone. Amusement twinkles in his eyes as he regards you.

“I have another theory.” You nod, and he continues, “I think you could bend the shadows further, and completely hide yourself.”

“Become invisible?” He nods,

“I didn’t see you, I sensed your shadows.” He reasons, and your brow creases as you think it over. “I discussed this with the Fabrikators, David thinks it might be possible.”

“Have you ever tried to do it?” Aleksander looks away from you at that question. Staring into the fire, his dark eyes reflecting the flicker in the hearth with startling clarity.

“No, I haven’t.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, your voice scarcely a whisper.

“I think that my mother’s affinity for the shadows was a result of Morozova’s experiments, which she then passed onto me.” You watch his face carefully, as you think over his words. It’s likely. Morozova was incredibly eccentric. A lot of his experiments weren’t fully articulated in his journals. Even with Aleksander’s explanations, you still don’t fully understand how Merzost works. “Whilst I have more experience, more power in the sense of using Merzost, I believe that, with the right amplification, the scope of your power will exceed my own.” Your heart hammers in your chest, as you attempt to process all this information.

“That’s why you believe the Firebird should be mine.” He nods,

“The most powerful amplifier in existence.”

“But you can summon the shadows? We’re still both the same?” He looks away from the fire for the first time, eyes searching your face. He recognises the look in your eyes, the fear of being the only one.

“Of course we are, milaya.” He reassures you, tracing his fingers delicately over your cheek. “You and I are two of a kind.” His voice is soft, and warm with the underlying affection he reserves only for you. “Though I suspect you are more of a Shadow Summoner than I am.” He remarks with a small chuckle, which you frown at. “It can’t be a coincidence, you and Alina appearing within a century of each other. You’re closer to her age than you are mine.” He reasons.

“If this is you attempting to play matchmaker, I’m afraid she’s not my type.” You remark with a smirk. “And I’m already quite taken.” Aleksander cups your face as he lifts a brow.

“Really? And who might this lucky suitor be?” You smile as you lean towards his lips, brushing your nose against his as you reply,

“Only the Tsar of Ravka.” Aleksander moves forward, capturing your lips with his own in a kiss filled with adoration. There’s a tender smile on his lips as he pulls away, pressing his forehead against your own.

“Moya Tsaritsa.” He sighs against your lips, as the two of you lean into each other’s embrace. “Moi sol ye tselai.” My sun and stars. Your own smile widens, as you whisper,

“My Aleksander. I love you more than anything.”

»»---------------------►

Over the course of the next week, you attempt to master bending the shadows. Aleksander offers you suggestions and pointers, and you’re soon able to disappear from view. Of course, Aleksander can still sense your presence, he would recognise the tug of your shadows anywhere. Corporalki can still detect your heartbeat, something you found out when you were attempting to sneak up on Fedoyr - much to your disappointment. David was delighted when he heard that you had managed to bend the shadows. You had visited him in his workshop and he had rattled off a number of other theories he had, which you had some trouble following. Luckily Aleksander had appeared to inform you of an emergency meeting before you became too confused.

“Has something happened?” You ask Aleksander as you follow him through the halls towards the War Room. His shoulders are tense, and the shadows around you both are eager to shift as you walk by.

“One of our Tailors has returned from the North with information regarding the whereabouts of the remaining Royals.” Your eyes widen as you look at Aleksander, hardly daring to believe it. That after so long, you might be able to finish this. You had heard from some of your spies that Alina had escaped from the Apparat, if this is true then it’s likely that she will have sought out Prince Nikolai. Meaning that both the Royals and the Sun Summoner could finally be within your grasp.

The assembled Grisha bow as you and Aleksander enter the War Room, and you both take your places at the head of the table. Thankfully, the meeting opens with the report from the Tailor. He’s young, though most Grisha feel young to you now. He explains how he had joined up with a group of rogue Grisha who planned to lend their support to the Sun Summoner. Which led him to the Lanstov’s hideout. The Monastery of Sankt Demyan.

The Tailor shows promise of being a good spy. He answers all questions about the hideout. About the number of supporters gathered there, and the weapons being developed. One of the archivists produces some blueprints of the monastery, created during its renovation into an observatory a few hundred years ago. The Tailor confirms that the layout remains the same, detailing the functions of each room. This is what you’ve been waiting for, the means to coordinate a strike against the resistance and secure yours and Aleksander’s position on the throne. The Tailor also informs you that the Sun Summoner had recently arrived at the hideout. It almost seems too good to be true. Of course, it’s likely that something will go wrong, but now you have a direct course of action, and Aleksander always has a plan.

The meeting goes on for several hours, as your council contemplates a number of different strategies for your strike on the hideout. You organise the necessary resources and debate the most efficient route into the mountains. It’s late into the afternoon when you and Aleksander are finally alone.

“I would have liked you to have the Firebird’s power before facing her again.” Aleksander admits. You take his hands in your own.

“I wasn’t at my strongest the last time.” You remind him. “Our scouts have reported possible signs of the Firebird in the valleys of the Sikurzoi, which aligns with what we’ve gathered from the Bone Hunter.” He nods along with your words. “Once this has been taken care of, we can search for the Firebird ourselves.”

His fingers trace their over each of your knuckles, before his touch slides up your forearms, drawing you into his arms. You lean your head against his chest. Reassured by the familiar feeling of his kefta against your cheek, and the faint beating of his heart under it all. He traces his hand over your cheek, and you look up at him. You can see contemplation in his eyes, and you know he’s trying to make a decision. A small smile flickers across his face.

“I have something I need to ask of you.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing lightly to convey your support.

“Anything.”

»»---------------------►

V & V Tag List: @hummelmi @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @scarlettels @visd3stele

Monster March masterlist

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cecaelia!Bucky x mermaid!Reader (x prince!Tony)

moodboard by @brdom

note: reader is Steve and Peggy’s daughter so I guess there’s that implied physical appearance but feel free to ignore that part if it doesn’t suit you

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alien!Billy Russo x Reader

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fallen angel!Darkling x angel!Reader

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centaur!Steve x amazon princess!Reader

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