#aleksander morozove x reader

[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with General Kirigan - General Kirigan Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with General Kirigan

Pairing: General Kirigan X Reader

Word Count: 1,921 words

Warning(s): manipulation, mention of death

Author's Note: I need it known that I am writing this will all the self-awareness in the world.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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illicit affairs

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself ...a million little times

At some point, being with Kirigan made me feel like I was invincible to the sick stomach and troubling thoughts that I had faced for years before him.

There was something about having him want me that brought me some peace. He offered me something that I had convinced myself that I was never going to experience. I felt like I owed him everything. My trust, my love... everything. I needed to hold onto that. No matter how hidden I was, how much time I spent keeping myself quiet... I needed him. I needed to be loved by him.

And then, Alina arrived at the Little Palace.

She was more than a beautiful girl.

She was a miracle. A walking gift from the saints. The sun summoner. The one that was destined to save everyone from the impact of the fold.

I should be thankful that she was found at all.

But I couldn't help the gross feeling that stabbed at my heart. Anger or sadness or something else entirely. I couldn't put a name to it. Not at the time.

The more I watched Aleksander with her, the more that the answer seemed to present itself.

I never wanted to express that feeling to her. It was truly no business of hers.

I never truly wanted to express it to Aleksander either. I would have been much happier to never disclose those feelings to them. They came with shame and guilt that were enough to seal my mouth shut.

Instead, that feeling manifested in different ways. Avoidance, misplaced anger... all things that I would go without noticing until later.

Aleksander didn't seem to have much to say for a while. I assumed that he was too focused on his saint to pay me any mind.

Until he confronted me.

I took a deep breath as I walked into his room.

"You asked to see me," I said as the doors closed behind me.

Aleksander stood on the other side of the large table. He looked at me with his annoyingly charming grin and his hands behind my back. His chin was raised slightly.

He believed he was royalty.

"I did," he confirmed.

I almost scoffed. "Please, share the reason for this meeting whenever you would like."

He raised an eyebrow at me as if I had proved his point before he had said it. "You're upset with me."

"Brilliant, truly."

He walked around the table, slowly walking over to me. "I assume that this has to do with Alina."

"Never assume that you know my feelings."

"Darling-"

"Please, don't use sweet names to distract me," I cut him off. "I... I have spent years listening to you soothe me with those names that are beginning to mean nothing to me."

Aleksander didn't have a response at first.

"I have no interest in being a secret or hidden property. Some little gemstone you place in a little box until you find value in me. You either see me as more than that or go hide away with your little saint and leave me be."

I looked away from him as the age-old guilt and sadness ate at my stomach.

He stepped even closer. His hand reached up and cupped my cheek, guiding me to look at him again. His eyes were always more intense than they deserved to be. Dark enough to blend into his pupil, giving me the feeling that my attention would be pulled to him. Fighting to pull my eyes from his would be like fighting the pull of the planet holding me to the ground.

"I never intended to keep you hidden," he said softly. "I have neglected you. That is not fair, but it was never my intention. I am so sorry, my love. Please... allow me to do better."

I took another deep breath.

"Please."

I wanted to believe him. I didn't want to pull myself away from the man that actually loved me. I just... couldn't let that go.

I reached my hand up and touched his. His grin only grew.

"I have every intention to hold you to your promise," I mumbled.

A chuckle escaped him. "I would hope so."

And all it took for him to keep me perfectly in place was to lean in and press his lips to mine.

I would have taken unhealthy love over no love at all.

it's time to go

I gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all Then wondered why I left Now he sits on his throne in his palace of bones Praying to his greed He's got my past frozen behind glass But I've got me

I don't know when my embarrassing jealousy of Alina began to turn into this strange sense of sympathy and worry.

I could see the look on her face. One that I had seen in the mirror for years upon years.

This softness that so carefully masked the feeling of longing and yearning that Aleksander seemed to so easily command. The same feeling that had become all-consuming and ate at the very walls of m heart.

I wish I had learned to discern longing from anxiety. My fearful tuition from lovesick butterflies. Maybe I would have saved myself from some pain.

All I could do now was try to save Alina in the way that I should have been saved years ago.

Her escape path crossed right by me.

I could have stopped her. Tried to fight her. Yelled for Kirigan. Yelled for anyone.

But I didn't.

I would never be able to bring myself to do that.

"Go," I said simply.

Alina stopped, furrowing her eyebrows at me. That was the first time that I wonder how she saw me. I wondered if I had seemed so tied to the general's side that the idea of me turning my back on him seemed impossible. Like I was a pet.

"I will never get back the parts of my past that Aleksander holds," I explained. "But I will not let him take another ounce of my future. Or anyone else's. Go. Please."

She paused for a moment longer before stepping forward to hug me.

Every selfish, jealous thought that had crossed my mind while I had known her felt so heartless now. She was so much more than I could ever truly accept.

"Thank you," she whispered before stepping back and taking off down the path.

I knew that the chances were that I would not live long beyond the moment I let Alina go. I would never give Aleksander the answers he wanted. I was not going to be useful enough to warrant keeping.

And I was okay with that.

I would rather die by my own choice than live following the choices he made for me.

This was my end.

And I was happy to see it.

The Archer

I've been the archer I've been the prey Who could ever leave me darling... But who could stay?

I never realized how far I had run. I had no interest in knowing.

All I knew was that I was panting when I finally stopped. I looked around for a moment. I had found myself next to a fountain with intricate art carved into the base. The story of the Black Heretic. I was familiar with it. There were plants beginning to grow over the rest of the fountain.

I took a deep breath as I let myself fall. I sat with my back against the fountain's base, letting my head rest against the stone. I closed my eyes, taking even breaths for the first time in what felt like hours.

"What are you doing out here?"

I jumped at the sound of a voice. I looked over to see General Kirigan standing nearby.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he held his hands up for me to see his palms clearly.

"No, no, I was simply in my mind," I replied as I stood up quickly. "Distracted."

He nodded, taking a few steps closer to me. "May I ask what you have on your mind?"

"It is ridiculous, really," I tried to wave it all off.

I thought that it was best to hold onto whatever strength and composure I had. At the time, I only knew him as General Kirigan. He was powerful. So powerful that he was on a different level than the other Grisha.

"If you made your way all the way out here, then I have doubts about that," he said.

I took a deep breath. "Next week will be the anniversary of my coming to the Little Palace."

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I am grateful for all that I've been offered here," I explained, hoping to not upset him too much. "However, my mom was the one who offered me to the Grisha so they could test me. She was... all too prepared to get rid of me. I... have trouble not feeling somewhat..."

"Abandoned?" Kirigan suggested.

I nodded. "Yes."

"Surely in all your time here, you have made some connections," he said, continuing to walk forward until he stood next to me by the fountain.

I shrugged. "Not truly. Many seemed to turn their noses up at me. Even those I did connect with would eventually walk away. I assume boredom."

"I'm sorry."

"Not really your fault, is it?"

He looked down for a moment. "It is the fault of my bloodline. The very reason the Fold exists. The reason that you were tested at all."

"I don't blame you. Not at all."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Being blamed for our ancestor's mistakes does nothing but cause pain."

He nodded. "I could still hope to offer some comfort. Community to help make up for the lost time."

I scoffed. "And when you get bored of me?"

"I can't imagine that happening."

I didn't have a response. Not because of his statement, but because of his eyes. It was like they stopped me in my tracks. I wanted to say it looked sincere, but there was something more to it. Something just below the surface that I was unable to name, but I could see.

Kirigan seemed as transfixed as I was. His eyes jumped around to every detail of my face. He moved a little closer.

"May I," he asked.

I didn't know what he was asking, but I still nodded at him.

His hand cupped my face. I felt frozen. Entranced by the mere sight of him.

He leaned in slowly, carefully. As if he were waiting for me to run away from him.

When I didn't, that seemed to comfort him. It gave him enough of a push to press his lips to mine. I took in a sharp breath through my nose. I kissed him back, trying to follow his movements.

It was a short moment. One that I would have been content with playing over and over in my mind.

When Kirigan pulled away, I watched a grin slowly grow along his face. I grinned back at him.

I would later consider that my point of no return.

But at the time, I couldn't think of anything wrong with what had happened.

Being wanted was enough for me.

For the time being, at least.

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Some Original Characters

[marvelmusing]

The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aleksander Morozov is infamous within the fashion industry, as the Editor in Chief of Ravka’s most influential fashion magazine. As his assistant, you are one of the few who actually get to know the man behind the fearsome reputation.

Warnings [18+]: smut, nudity, mentions of sex, CEO x assistant trope

The New Girl

Aleksander Morozov is the Editor in Chief of Ravka’s leading fashion magazine. As his First Assistant, you feel very responsible for his new Second Assistant - Alina Starkov.

Can I Ask You A Question?

Alina has lots of questions about her new job and your boss. Meanwhile, Aleksander has an important question for you - it just takes him some time to realise it.

The Issue With Skorts

As one of the most influential people in the fashion industry, Aleksander has lots of opinions when it comes to clothes. As your fiancé, he thinks you look incredible in anything.

Personal Shopper

In preparation for your honeymoon, you and Aleksander go shopping. Per usual, he has high standards.

[steponmeinejghafa]

Beautiful Girl in a Broken World (TW)

Summary: All your life you have felt powerless against Aleksander. But when he takes things too far, you finally find your voice to stand up to him. Genya attempts to belittle herself, but you don't let her.

Genya Safin x fem!morozov!reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: Crying, fighting, mentions of sexual abuse, toxic parent.

Note: You're adopted, so it doesn't get weird, I swear. And I don’t remember the catacombs scene word for word, so bear with me :’) also, y/n has a certain amount of selective mutism.

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Ever since you were a child, you had been a very quiet, gentle, and agreeable person. So quiet that you could slip out of a room of three people, unnoticed. So agreeable that you would commit a crime for anyone who you held close to your heart. So gentle that you couldn't bear to even think of raising your voice at anyone who made you feel bad.

Aleksander, your father, took these abilities for granted the very moment he realised how you could benefit him.

He kept you like a secret weapon, unleashing you carefully, using your abilities to his advantage. He gifted you to the Queen as her aide and deputy lady-in-waiting. He was twisted enough to use you as bait for the King, allowing him to do as he pleased with you as long as it meant Aleksander would remain General.

You couldn't say no as his rotten lips went over your skin, you couldn't push him away, because fear for yourself froze you in place, and fear of angering your father made all reason simply vanish from your mind.

Naturally, when the King tired of you, your convoluted father gave him Genya.

Sweet Genya who talked to you every day after you both helped the Queen prepare for her evenings. Kind Genya who always made sure you weren't left alone at mealtimes or during lessons. Beautiful Genya who had all the boys after her, because of her wavy auburn hair and unique amber eyes.

You were furious to find out what he had done. Till date you can remember the white-hot fury that had coursed through your veins as Genya arrived sobbing at your room the first night the King had forced himself on her. The way your skin prickled, your body threatening to unleash unforgiving darkness upon the land as you saw the blood on her thighs and clothes.

However, you still felt guilty about how you couldn't confront Aleksander about it. Still felt angry at yourself for being powerless under his heavy, dark-eyed gaze. Still felt so hopeless because the words died in your throat that day before they could escape your lips.

"What is it now, Y/n?" He had asked as you approached him timidly the next morning.

"Father, I heard that Genya had gone to the King's rooms last night," you had said, trying not to mumble.

"Yes," he had hummed, "She is my spy, Y/n. That doesn't concern you. Your time to serve as a spy for me has passed." With a wave of his hand, he had then dismissed you from the room.

You had wanted to tear out your father's eyes, wanted to scream how could you do this to her, to me? But you couldn't.

So here you were, outside your father's chambers while he punished Genya for deserting him on the other side of the door. Tears ran down your cheeks like rivers from your eyes, as you pounded on the door with your fists, your normally quiet voice raised to a shrill shout, calling out for your father to stop, calling out to Genya to see if she was okay.

He pulled the door open sharply and caught you around the collar, dragging you inside the room.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

Genya was weeping with her head buried in her hands, kneeling on the floor, quaking with fear. Black blood seeped from between her fingers as her shaky hands tried tailoring her wounds shut. You made a move to go to her, to put your arms around her and comfort her, but Aleksander held you back.

"Keep her in the cell," he said scathingly. "Tomorrow everyone will see her face. Everyone will be reminded of the consequences if they dare to try and double-cross me."

"No!" Genya screamed. It broke your heart.

You struggled against your father's iron grip weakly. "Father, no, please don't do this, I'm begging you!"

"Silence," he said sternly, as if you were just some otkazat'sya who he couldn't bother listening to, and you did just that.

Another win for him. Typical Y/n.

"Come," he said, beckoning you to where you knew he was keeping your grandmother.

Baghra. You adored her from the moment you had met her all those years ago. She didn't show it much, but you knew she adored you back. A rare phenomenon in her case. Aleksander had imprisoned her, just to work on another amplifier so he could defeat Alina.

"Sit down," your father ordered the moment you entered the room.

"Baghra," you whispered, trying to get her to look at you. "Grandmother."

She did look at you, finally, and gave a small nod of understanding towards you.

The guards had set up a second cage beside hers, and in that, they stuffed Genya. You made a noise of protest, but it was too soft for them to hear. You made eye contact with her and your e/c irises said it all.

I'm sorry.

You hoped she wouldn't look at you with loathing, hoped she didn't hate you now. Hoped that she knew how much you loved her, and that you would try your hardest to be heard, try to be a crack of thunder in a storm instead of just a gentle breeze on an autumn evening.

She looked at you like she always had, with warmth and adoration. Her blinded eye, too, somehow held that expression. It vanished, however, the moment the Darkling looked at her.

"Put out your foot, Y/n," your father ordered. You frowned and did just that, but you didn't see the mallet coming.

Aleksander nodded at the nearby guard, who took the mallet and swung it down onto your shin, shattering the bone with a sickening 'crunch'. You felt red-hot pain sear through your body, and cried out, clutching your leg gingerly.

"Why would you do that?" You screamed, shocking everyone in the room. No one had ever heard Y/n Morozova ever raise her voice. Hell, some of them thought you were mute. "I didn't do anything!"

Aleksander gestured at a Heartrender standing at the door, ordering him to extract some of the bone shards from underneath your skin.

"Hold her down," he ordered the guards. You thrashed about as much as your pain-riddled body would allow, sobbing uncontrollably. Both with pain and betrayal.

"Aleksander, stop this madness!" Baghra exclaimed as the Heatrender readied himself to remove the shards from your leg. "She's just a child!"

"A girl of nineteen is hardly a child," said the man with as much emotion as a teabag, speaking over your cries and screams of pain, as well as Genya's pleading voice. "Her bones are as valuable as yours, since she has some Morozova blood within her, and she is thus an amplifier."

"Do I repair the rest of her leg, General Kirigan?" Asked the second Grisha who had come in with the Heartrender.

Dismissively, Aleksander nodded, and the Healer set to work. However, with the missing chunks of bone, he said, "I'm afraid she will need a cane for the time being. If the cast doesn't work and she feels pain after the next one week, it means she'll have to use the cane for the rest of her life."

"No matter," shrugged your father.

How could he?

You waited till the Healer had fixed you up as best as he could, trying your best to ignore the pain which was still very sharp in your leg.

"What in the name of the Saints do you mean 'no matter', Father?" You scowled. "Does the fact that I'm a cripple now mean nothing to you?"

"Broken things are more fragile even if you fix them," said Baghra. "You know this, Aleksander."

"Y/n," Aleksander's voice was gentle and kind. He always did this. One moment he was the best father in the world, all kind words and sweet smiles, and the next, he was a monster in a man's body, watching as a stranger shattered his daughter's legs. "Think of how powerful we would be-"

"No," you said softly.

His gaze hardened. "No?"

You shook your head, "I'm done with your games, Father. This," you nodded at your leg, "This was the last straw. I cannot walk properly anymore. You mutilated the girl I love, and put my grandmother through things far too violent to recount. I loved you, she loved you, and Genya trusted you."

He rolled his eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

You knew you couldn't attack him. It would risk unleashing the nichevoya. So you used your words instead.

"Are you so oblivious?" You whispered. "All my life I have agreed with you, done as you asked. I let a man violate me in unspeakable ways, just because I did as you asked. You have used me, you have used my Genya, and you have used Baghra. You are a disgusting man, Aleksander Morozova. A disgusting man, son, father, and general.

Did you feel nothing when I came to you with blood on my nightgown, crying about the King? Did you feel nothing, when I said I didn't want Genya playing your spy?" Your eyes brimmed with tears. "Did you feel nothing when that guard smashed my leg and broke it like a stick?"

"Sacrifices for power," he sighed. "You are too young to understand."

"Age and eternity have made you emotionless," you shook your head. "They have stripped you of your ability to love, to cherish, to feel. You sacrifice to fill that void, you sacrifice because you know that alone, with your sins, you are not enough."

You felt fear seize your body when he caught you by the collar again and threw you nearly clean across the room.

"Learn your place, girl," he seethed. "I am your father. Never speak to me that way again."

You struggled to get to your feet, leaning against the nearby wall. Anger kept within for too long bubbled up within you, heating up into white-hot fury.

"My place, Father, isn't something you can dictate. This isn't Fjerda, this isn't the medieval times. I am a woman, a girl, a daughter. I have stayed silent for too long, letting you do with me, with others, as you please," you clenched your fists, darkness cloaking the room threateningly. "So, Father, do you ever want to say you're sorry? Will you try to make amends? Try to be a better person?"

"Quite the speech," he raised a brow. "But I am powerful, and no one will stop me from getting my Summoner. Especially not you."

He took you by the arm firmly and led you out, not caring that you were limping and hopping terribly. Genya cried out for you, begging him to be gentle, but with no avail.

"Stay in your room," he seethed, shoving you inside your room none too gently. "I have business to attend to."

You waited till he closed the door, and collapsed on your bed, screaming bloody murder into the pillow as you cried.

--Time Skip--

Night had fallen, and till then only one guard had knocked on your door to give you food.

"Cripple," he spat in Ravkan, making you nearly use the Cut on him in anger.

Your father hadn't returned yet from his twisted expedition, and you decided it was high time you broke your best friend and grandmother out of jail.

You knew that the guards deserted your corridor at exactly nine-thirty for patrol rounds. Quietly, or at least as quietly as you possibly could be, you snuck down the corridor to the room where you knew they were.

You slipped inside the room, and knelt in front of Genya's cage, breaking the lock with all your strength. It was rusty from lack of use, and came apart with the barest of snaps.

She avoided your gaze and covered her face with a hand, shrinking away from your touch. She didn't want you to see her this way. You found it odd, but shrugged it off. Naturally she wouldn't want to see you. You were the Darkling's daughter. She had no business looking at you the same.

"Please, get yourself to safety," you said quietly, moving away from her.

You felt hurt that she seemed to think you were like your father, that she seemed to fear you just as she feared him. You turned to Baghra's cage and broke the lock as well, feeling a little twinge of happiness on seeing her smile slightly.

You knelt in front of her like a knight would kneel before his King, ignoring the pain in your leg, and said, "I'm sorry for how my father has treated you. I'm willing to pay for his sins, I swear on it."

Baghra touched your shoulders gently, prompting you to rise. "Don't take accountability for Aleksander's sins, child. This was his choice, and he must pay for it. You are not defined by his actions, because you have proved time and again that you have tried your best to rebel against him."

You scoffed a laugh, helping her up. "I can hardly call cowering and giving unheard suggestions 'rebellion'."

"You'll understand what I mean with time, my dear," smiled the woman. She looked at Genya, who had laid waste to the table, save the bottle of amplifier which she now held in her hand.

You three escaped just barely, because your limp slowed them down. You apologised profusely along the way, and when they paused for a rest, you scoured for a branch which could double as a cane for you temporarily. When you did, walking became a thousand times easier. The entire journey, Genya didn't speak to you or look at you. Whenever you moved close to her, she'd scurry farther down the path, muttering to herself.

'I'm not like him,' you wanted to say. 'I'm in love with you, Genya, I'd never do anything to hurt you.'

But of course, the words didn't come.

Finally, you three came upon the hideout where everyone was. Genya was tackled in a hug by Alina, while you hung back, standing behind Baghra timidly. You knew you wouldn't be welcome there.

"Baghra," Alina said with relief, moving over to her. However, the second she did, the woman moved forwards to reveal your quietly standing figure.

Disgust painted everyone's faces and you saw people draw weapons, or, in the case of the Grisha, put their hands up defensively.

You didn't say anything.

Alina's piercing gaze was enough to make you want to shrink into the walls, and you nearly cowered with fright when she readied herself to attack.

"Alina," you were shocked as Genya spoke up. "She's harmless, don't worry."

"She's about as harmless as a viper," scowled the girl.

“Alina, trust me, she’s not like him,” said the redhead. “She’s the opposite.”

You put your hands up in surrender and shook your head, "I-I'm nothing like my father, I swear."

"I vouch for that," Baghra said with a nod.

"Fine," sighed Alina. She nodded at your leg, "How'd that happen?"

You cleared your throat and willed yourself to speak louder. "My father. He smashed my bone with a mallet to use as an amplifier."

"Saints," she scoffed, "That man is a psychopath. Tamar," she looked at the Heartrender, "Please see to it that she has a proper cane, and do help ease the pain a bit."

"T-thank you," you stammered, nervous of the girl who's eyes were no more scathingly trained on you. They were soft with concern, as she smiled slightly and nodded.

"Come on then," the Shu girl grinned, taking you by the arm gently. "Let's get you patched up better."

You nodded and followed her out, while Genya went to tend to Adrik.

Twenty minutes of excruciating pain later, your leg was mostly healed, but given the way it had been broken, they said there was close to no chance for your complete recovery.

A Fabrikator named Viktor fashioned a cane for you from the branch you were using. It was jet black, of course, with an intricate design of roses etched into the wood from the handle till the bottom which had a cap of silver on it.

You thanked him and Tamar smiled at you.

“Truly, you are unlike your father,” she said.

You blushed shyly and softly replied, “I’ve never found cruelty to be my area of expertise.”

Tamar patted your arm and helped you up, making sure you were putting your weight on the cane and not your leg.

You went to check on Genya, who, upon seeing you, fled from where she was sitting in front of Adrik, helping heal his hand.

“G-Genya?” You called out after her, your voice barely raised at all as you limped after her with as much speed as your leg would allow. “Please wait a moment, please.”

You both stopped dead in your tracks, when you ran into the Queen.

“You!” She gasped. “Guards! Guards!” She cried out, looking around frantically for them, her pale hair fluttering around her face.

She caught Genya by the wrist and seethed, “You both will pay for what you did! You monsters!”

“Please-please leave her be,” you pleaded, limping closer to the Queen, resisting the urge to beat her senseless with your new cane.

“Well,” she glared at Genya, “At least now you look like what you truly are,” she turned to you, “And you deserve to be crippled, you repulsive girl.”

“I-“ you faltered. You deserved it, didn’t you? You tried not to cry, as you gathered your thoughts, saying, “Please let her go,”

Genya yanked her arm out of the Queen’s grip, having had enough.

“Ask me how I did it,” she said, with venom in her voice. “How we did it.”

Your heart leapt. She mentioned you in passing, that was good. Perhaps she didn’t hate you after all.

“What?” The woman was baffled.

“Ask. Me.” Genya said forcefully. The queen made a nod as if to ask, and the redhead continued, “Y/n made the poison. She wanted her revenge anyway. So, I put it on my body, for weeks. So that every time he touched me, every time,” her voice lowered to a hesitant whisper, “he kissed me, he would take a little bit into himself.”

“All he had to do was stop coming to her bed,” you softly added in.

Seething, the woman replied, “He was your King,”

“He brought it on himself,” Genya spat.

“He took advantage of innocent girls, girls who couldn’t fight back, because he was our King,” you limped forward to stand beside Genya, mustering up courage to look the Queen in the eye. “It was because he was our King, we were terrified to speak. Because no one would’ve believed us. And even if they did, they couldn’t do anything about it. So do you blame us, your Highness, can you blame us, for taking matters into our own hands?”

“Oh? The Darkling’s mute little puppet girl speaks,” scoffed the queen, making you shrink back with shame. That tone stung you hard. Where they never took you seriously, where people only saw you as a pushover who had no voice. “You both are monsters, murderers.”

“Madraya,” Nikolai’s smooth voice was a saving grace in this fight.

“Nikolai! You heard them, arrest these murderers!” She said, looking at her son.

He looked horrified. “No,” he shook his head. “Not after what I heard.” He looked at her with disbelief on his features. “Both of them were under your protection.”

“They are servants,” she scoffed in disgust. “And the cripple is a puppet for the enemy!”

“And you, the Mother of Ravka,” he said. “Your subjects were to be like your children. All of them,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and brought you forward. Your eyes stayed riveted on the ground. “And Y/n? Just by being here, she has shown that she is no puppet for the Darkling.”

The Queen huffed and flounced off, skirts billowing around her as she did.

“Thank you,” you nodded and moved back, when Genya turned to leave.

“I’m sorry,” said Nikolai.

“It’s not your fault,” said Genya, as she walked away.

You limped after her, calling out her name in vain. However, you cornered her at last in her rooms.

“Saints,” you panted, your leg aching horribly. You leaned your cane against a wall and tried catching your breath. “Saints, that hurts.”

“Y/n, please leave,” she said, packing up a bag for herself.

“No!” You said, annoyed. She looked at you at last. “No, Genya, I won’t leave.”

"Why not?" She scoffed. "Look at me, Y/n."

"I always am," you said. "I am always looking at you, Genya."

"Are you, now?" She laughed drily. "Honestly, Y/n, you don't have to pity me, alright? We aren't on the same boat, if that's waht your thinking."

"I have always thought we were oceans apart, Genya. With you all confidence and kindness, while I shrank away from the slightest word spoken to me," you said, your e/c eyes shining in the dim light, making it look like they had stars in them. "But that didn't stop me from loving you."

She looked at you incredulously, "Loving me?"

"Yes," you smiled, limping over to her hesitantly. "Since the day we met, I never stopped loving you. And this day is no diffferent. Scars or no scars, you, Genya Safin, are stronger than Grisha steel, and more beautiful than anyone I have ever encountered. You are a beautiful girl in a broken world, and-and if anything, your scars make you more beautiful in my eyes. It would be my honour to say that I am yours, Genya."

She stepped closer to you, taking your hands in hers. "Can you bear waking up to a scarred old face beside yours every morning?"

"It isn't something to bear, because burdens and problems are what we bear. This is no problem. It is a trophy, a symbol of your victory and strength, my Genya," you smiled. "I understand if you wouldn't want me, though."

"Why wouldn't I want you?" She asked. You were too oblivious, in her opinion. Had you forgotten the nights you both slept together, wrapped up in each other's embrace? The times she'd kiss your forehead to make you feel better? The times she hadn't denied it when people asked her if you and her were a thing?

"I am a cripple now, Genya," you accepted it with a shake of your head. "You protect and care enough for people. I don't need you doing that for me, because it would just add on to your own personal burdens.”

Genya came closer to you, taking your hands in hers. Her seeing eye was a deep gold in the dim light—a shard of the setting sun sparkling with love.

“Have you never noticed that I am in love with you?” she asked, making your heart leap. “Do you know how many times I’ve kissed your forehead, wishing it was your lips? Wishing that we could embrace with just the sheets between our bodies?”

“Um…” you felt yourself lean on her palms slightly. “Sorry,” you nodded at her hands clasping yours a little tighter now, with the weight on them. “But why did you run from me?”

“Don’t be sorry,” she smiled sadly. “I ran because I thought that you would find me ruined now, with this.” She touched her fingers gingerly to her scars.

“Never,” you shook your head, shifting your weight to put more on your good leg, so you could hold her face in your hands. “My Genya, you should never think you aren’t the most gorgeous woman on the face of this planet, because Saints alive, I have never seen a woman so kind, loving, and caring as you. It shows on your face, and it only makes you more breathtaking.”

In the dim light, you saw her blush, just the barest dust of pink under her skin.

“That’s probably the most you’ve spoken in your whole life,” chuckled the redhead, leaning into your touch. It startled you, and in turn, made you blush a rather unsubtle red.

“I-um,” you tried pushing out the words which wanted to leave your lips so desperately, but all you could do as she stepped closer to you was exhale softly, “Genya…”

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name that way,” she smiled, looking up at you slightly as her hands rested on your waist. Her gaze skirted down to your lips and to your eyes as she asked, “May I?”

Your heart leapt, the words struggled again. You nodded wordlessly and she tilted her head up, pressing her slightly dry yet soft lips on yours. The words came again as you both stood there in the dingy underground room, just kissing.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your thumbs stroking her cheeks as you prayed to all the Saints that your palms weren’t sweating. You wanted this moment to last, this first kiss to extend into forever. The world faded around you, the panic of your father’s attack, the fear you felt in front of the Queen, all forgotten as you focused on Genya.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words didn’t come, they failed you again. But you didn’t mind this time.

You smiled against her lips, and kept your e/c eyes riveted on her as she pulled away, her face finally cracking into a large, bubbly grin.

You let your hands fall from her face and held her hands in yours, trying not to giggle.

“Did we just do that?” She asked.

Wordlessly, you nodded, folding your lips into your mouth as a loud, childlike giggle threatened to escape your lips.

She leaned up to kiss your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Perhaps we could work on your voice sometime?”

“Um,” you nodded your head and asked, “Would-would you help me?”

“Of course, Y/n,” she smiled.

“I-I’ll speak a hundred words a minute for-for you,” you said, out of breath suddenly. “It will just take some time…”

“We have all the time in the world, my love,” she brushed her thumb gently over your bottom lip, causing a shudder to go down your spine.

You took her hand and kissed it gently, before pressing another kiss to her cheek where her longer scar was.

“All the time in the world,” you repeated with a smile.

She nodded and took your hand, holding it while you grabbed your cane and the both of you walked out of the room, back to where the others were.

As the torchlight cast long shadows on the wall, and you sat beside her silently while the others gave strategies on their next move.

Ever so often you would glance at Genya, who wore a thoughtful look on her face. The dim torchlight fell from behind her, highlighting her profile in gold.

‘Why have you condemned her to suffer such hardships?’ You silently asked the Saints. ‘Why do you make every effort to make her suffer?’

The answer was a simple one, which you could practically hear those damned Saints reply.

Because fate isn’t kind to those who have beauty like hers.

Because she is a beautiful girl in a broken world.

———————————————————————

This one was so sad to write- but I hope you enjoyed it! I am accepting requests, so feel free to send over an anonymous idea or send me a dm <3

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Sleeping in the Shadows

Aleksander Morozova x Female Reader

Warnings: Dream sex, angst, mentions of violence, reader is in a bad situation and uses her dreams to escape, Scarred!Aleksander.

Summary: You dream of Aleksander when you're asleep. You don't think he's real.

The dreams come often, though when you wake, you can barely remember them.

The visage of a man, healing from wounds too great to name, so deep, that you don't think he could ever escape them.

When you're asleep tonight, you dream of him in the bath.

It's not the most compromising position you've found him in. You'd once found him with another woman, petite and loud and you'd looked into his eyes as he finished inside of her and yet somehow he wanted you to believe he was a real person and not something your loveless mind had conjured in the throes of sleep.

That was before the scars.

.

Read the full fic on Ao3 here.

[dreamlandcreations]

May I request a dark darkling x reader moodboard? Pretty please?

oh, I almost missed this 😱

500 follower celebration - Moodboard challenge

Aleksander Morozova x merzost user!Reader

Aleksander was more than surprised when Alina called him through their connection, asking for his help but he didn't hesitate to come for her.

The Sun Summoner and her friends were hunting one of the animals under your protection, an amplifier. You couldn't let them further into your hidden palace and that's where your problems started.

You captured them to stop them, now they knew about your existence and of this place, not to mention they witnessed some of your powers.

Letting them go was not an option, keeping them here wouldn't work either but you felt her little chat with the Darkling and you knew he was on his way.

All those rushing thoughts of the possibilities keeping you awake disappear when he finally arrives.

The Darkling yearned for an equal and until that moment he thought he found that in Alina. But there was no way to deny the power he felt from you, even without touching your skin.

It called to him like the Sun Summoner's light but the attraction he felt wasn't to an opposite, the pull called him to something dark.

[farrahda5hywrites]

La Foudre et Le Tonnerre

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov(a) x Implied!Moon Summoner!Reader

Summary: Memories of your past return in a bizarre way

Warning: Light Discussions of familial death.

Sequel ficlet to La Sombra y El Jardín, Read the first one here.

Notes: I really like writing this non linear series as little snippets rather than a full on fic because I like the idea of this project being something I just come back to whenever and not having an exact linear progression

Taggies @marvelmusing

You made a habit of getting up early in the morning to sit outside and smell the salt in the air. The Darkling, although you never call him that to his face, never hesitated to join you soon after. The both of you spent a couple weeks at the cabin, at first keeping your distance from him, but you soon relaxed to spend some time with him.

He immediately confirmed what you already knew. You had a great power within you, but you had yet to harness it to its full potential. You were surprised, however, that he neglected to explain what exactly it was nor did he offer to train you to harvest it. Still, he treated you with respect and appeared to listen to your every word when he asked you a question. Some were personal while the others were about the insight about the future of Grisha.

“My grandfather worked in the fisheries.” You said sipping your tea. Your words came out quietly, and you paused looking at your cup. “I haven’t spoken about him in years.”

“Tell me about him.” The Darkling commanded, and you shot him a glare. Repeatedly, you tried to explain that your memory was like a gust of wind. You strongly believed the loss of your memories were a result of your time as a vagabond. “I mean it.”

“Of course you do.” You stared out in the distance. “He had a beard.”

“As most grandfathers do.” He chuckled.

“He would carry me on his shoulders.” You shrugged. “I….really don’t remember much else.”

You closed your eyes. You could see the outline of your grandfather’s face. His hair contrasted the color of his beard— one grey almost white and the other full and robust of its natural color. His enormous smile lighting up the room, and you swore you could hear his laughter and feel his smile lines. Joyful in his old age.

The Darkling, despite a youthful face, was the opposite. He had scars across his face, hurt in his dark eyes, and pain in his shoulders. He held himself up regal and stoic, but you sensed the deep trauma he carried. He kept himself hidden by his shadows or covered his face for the first few days he stayed in the cabin. It was an accident you saw his face before he allowed you to. He was outside in the garden, perhaps basking in the sun when you glanced at him. Regardless, he was a handsome man, but your grandmother’s voice reminded you not to stare too long.

A shift in the wind, and you sensed the smell of rain. A storm, not the one you described to the Darkling, but a strong one nonetheless. Without a word, you stood up and took off running at the first crack of lightning and ran back inside. You ran into the back room and lay down on the lounge chair and covered yourself up with a blanket, curling up on your side and tucking your head in.

I’m not scared. You told yourself. It was the truth. You had never been scared of these types of storms. You vaguely remembered cuddling with your mother in front of a fire. Throughout your travels, you always had to push through the storms as much as possible and get on your way. Ironically, the safety of this cabin was awarded you the luxury of fear and the refuge of comfort in the same moment.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you and focused on your breathing to drown out the sounds of thunder. You jumped, feeling a hand on your back.

“Are you all right?” You expected to hear teasing in his voice.

“I am all right.” You whispered. “I got startled.”

“Would you like me to sit with you?” Before you answered, he made room for himself beside you.

A silence filled the air before you spoke again.

“My grandmother used to hold me.” You cleared your throat. “Will you…”

You felt his arm drape over your waist and his other arm above your head. You relaxed significantly poking your head out your blanket cocoon.

“Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.”

x.

You woke up again to the same sounds of thunder and lightning with an added clanging of pots and pans. Discombobulated and angry, you hopped up heading toward the noise. You stomped grinding your teeth, and you stepped into the kitchen, eyes half lidded.

“Tea?” The Darkling asked meeting you halfway.

“You are as loud as the thunder.” You mumbled trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. It felt futile, so you ended up turning around heading back to the back room and flopping on your bed.

The Darkling was quick to follow you bringing the tea tray along and placing it on the desk on the other side of the room. You rolled over to face him hearing the sound of him clearing his throat.

“I will be leaving shortly.” He said. “As soon as the storm passes.”

“You won’t be back for a while.” You touched your chest feeling a pain rising from the pit of your stomach. “You may not come back.”

“What is it?” His voice changed from a soft gentle tone to a commanding one.

“It may be the last time I see you.” You sat up clutching your head. “I….don’t think that’s accurate. I….”

You glanced up at the Darkling as crouch down to your level, and you gasped horrified seeing the face of your grandfather. You blinked, and it was gone, but you began sobbing uncontrollably.

Your family waited months for word about your grandfather’s disappearance, and the word never came. The ship was presumed lost at sea probably destroyed in a storm like the one that rang in your ears or a vortex. You never asked your grandmother the truth or her theories. All you know was your grandfather was gone, and part of the joy your family had died with him.

You stared at your feet coming back to senses by the warm embrace of the Darkling.

“His name was Issak.” You mumbled. “My grandfather I mean. My grandmother married him on his ship because she didn’t think he’d return. Like a curse if he went back on his word.” You half sobbed and half laughed.

“You have my symbol and my word. I will return here to the best of my ability. All right?”

You nodded and wiped your face. “Wait until noon.” You sniffled.

“I shall.”

[allegra-writes]

"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?

[marvelmusing]

The New Girl

Part of The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aleksander Morozov is the Editor in Chief of Ravka’s leading fashion magazine. As his First Assistant, you feel very responsible for his new Second Assistant - Alina Starkov.

My Masterlist

»»---------------------►

“Good afternoon, Aleksander Morozov’s office.”

You tuck the phone between the side of your face and your shoulder as you continue to type out an email to Nikolai.

“Go get lunch.”

You frown at the familiar voice, leaning forwards to look through the doorway to your left. As your eyes land on your boss, you ensure the puzzlement is shown clearly on your face. Aleksander stares back at you, his phone nestled in his hand, with his head tilted casually.

“I brought you your lunch twenty minutes ago.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Your own lunch, milaya.”

Your face warms, as it always does whenever he uses a term of endearment when addressing you. You shake your head.

“I can’t leave the new girl on her own to cover the phones.”

“I’ll cover them.” You breathe out a small laugh,

“You can’t answer your own phone.”

He rolls his eyes, a playful smile on his lips. You’ve been Aleksander’s assistant for several years, and the two of you had become firm friends over that time.

“Where’s Genya?” He asks.

“You sent her over to Calvin Klein.”

“When was that?”

You hum in thought, looking down at the time in the corner of your computer screen.

“An hour ago?”

“When she comes back, ask her to cover your desk and keep an eye on the new girl.”

“You’re not going to let this go are you?” You say with a half teasing sigh.

“You are not skipping lunch.” He states firmly.

“Alright, but Genya won’t be happy with you.” The corner of his mouth quirks.

“I find I can live with that.” You shake your head at him.

It isn’t long before Genya returns with two armfuls of Calvin Klein bags and boxes. She, rather ceremoniously, drops them in Aleksander’s office, to which he uses as an opportunity to tell her that she’ll be covering for you.

Genya doesn’t mind in the slightest. You know she’s been dying to give the new girl the rundown on all the employees and designers. You know Alina will be in safe hands with Genya, nevertheless, you’re still eager to give Alina all the advice you can before you leave.

“Okay so I created this list of extension numbers which you can use if you get stuck. If you need a minute to panic and find a number, just put them on hold.” Alina listens to your every word with rapt attention. You slide a laminated piece of paper in front of her, and she looks down at it. “There’s three columns: the number, the department, and the department heads.” She nods as you point out each column. “So, if someone rings and asks for David and you don’t know who David is…”

You trail off, hoping she’ll have picked up on it. Her eyes widen, and she looks down, her eyes flickering over the words frantically.

“Um.” There’s a pause, before she looks back at you. “Put them on hold?”

You nod with an encouraging smile.

“And then?”

“And then, look for David on this list.” Her finger trails along the page until her nail, painted a pretty pastel yellow, taps against David’s number.

“There you go.” She seems a little more reassured, but she still eyes the phone warily. “If in doubt, redirect it to Genya.”

“Anything else?” She asks, turning a pen over in her hands. You click your tongue in thought, running over as many possibilities as possible.

“Number one rule: never send a call directly to Mr Morozov.” You slide a notepad in front of her, and she leans her elbows on the desk. “If someone does ask for him, write down their name, and the reason why they’re calling. Then ring Mr Morozov and ask if he wants to speak to them.”

She begins to take some notes, her handwriting small and neat along the ruled lines of the paper. A stark contrast to the frantic scrawl you always adopt when speaking on the phone with someone.

“If he says yes, forward the call; if he says no, tell them to call back sometime next week.”

She nods, a cute frown wrinkling her forehead as she attempts to commit this knowledge to memory. You pick up your bag from the coat stand near the door, and slide on your jacket.

“I will be back in fifteen minutes, so don’t worry too much.”

“Half an hour, milaya.” Aleksander corrects you as he leans against the doorway. He nods towards your desk, “Genya.” She smiles at him. Then he turns to Alina. “Miss Starkova.”

Alina ducks her head, the pen still twirling between her fingers as she smiles rather shyly at him.

“Hello Mr Morozov.”

“Would anyone like anything getting while I’m out?” You ask, walking to your desk and picking up your mobile. After glancing at the time, you slide it into your pocket and look up at the room. Genya shakes her head.

“I’m good, thank you.” She lifts her large, refillable coffee flask, and you smile in acknowledgement. Your gaze moves to Aleksander.

“My usual, please.” You nod.

Then Alina.

“I’m okay thanks.”

“You’re sure? I’ll be passing a Starbucks or some other cafe if you want a drink?” She hesitates for another moment, but you don’t mind waiting.

“Just a Chai Tea Latte, if you don’t mind.” You nod with a smile.

“I’ll be off then.” You pull open the door, and turn back to the room. “See you in half an hour.”

Your eyes meet Aleksander’s as you say those last words, and the corner of his mouth quirks into an almost smirk. You narrow your eyes at him before you turn away and walk down the hallway towards the elevator.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt

If you’d like to be added or removed from my tag list just ask!! Feel free to comment or reblog if you liked this!

[marvelmusing]

Glitter & Gold

AKA: the modern!darklina x fem!reader au where everyone is rich and bisexual (featuring Nikolai, Zoya, Genya, and David)

Aleksander Morozov is one of the world’s most influential men. His great grandfather’s designer jewellery company outlasted the Ravkan monarchy that it was initially founded to serve. In the present day, it allows Aleksander to live a lavish lifestyle and be very selective with his friends.

As an up and coming fashion designer, you’ve slowly and unknowingly befriended the majority of Aleksander’s inner circle.

You’ve worked with David, the award winning photographer, and his wife Genya - Ravka’s most talented make up artist. Nikolai, the former second prince of Ravka, will not stop telling Aleksander about you, and his wife Zoya, the hard-to-please editor of Ravka’s best selling fashion magazine, seems just as fond.

The only two members of the group you haven’t met yet is Aleksander himself and his wife Alina, which Zoya wants to rectify by inviting you for drinks with the group at one of Os Alta’s most exclusive clubs - the Little Palace.

Zoya had warned him that you were nervous about meeting the two of them, and he’s immediately endeared by the sight of you seeking comfort in Nikolai’s lap as he and Alina walk towards the group.

Aleksander already knows you’re going to be a perfect fit for them.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

no no no, there is something to see.. show us what you have and im sure we’ll all be drooling over it. come on, don’t be shy

God, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm s-

The dreams come often, though when you wake up you can barely remember them.

The visage of a man, healing from wounds too great to name, so deep, that you don't think he could ever escape them.

When you're asleep tonight, you dream of him in the bath.

It's not the most compromising position you've found him in. You'd once found him with another woman, petite and loud and you'd looked into his eyes as he finished inside of her and yet somehow he wanted you to believe he was a real person and not something your loveless mind had conjured in the throes of sleep.

That was before the scars.

Now, he sits hunched over in the bath, his pale back glistening in the candlelight, studying his hands as though they'd reveal secrets that he didn't already know.

Quietly, you kneel beside the bath, propping an arm onto the rim, you tilt you head and smile when he just angles his head to acknowledge your presence.

"Asleep, are we?" He asks softly and you hum.

"Of course I am, where else would I meet someone as lovely as you?"

He huffs in irritation.

You can see the scars on the left half of his face. Not as bad as the first time you'd seen them, when you'd found him lying half dead in the darkness, black wounds wide open on his face. When your touch had awoken him, and your voice had calmed him, and he'd screamed in pain so loudly that the sound had woken you up.

You blink, refocusing on the scars now.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Thought that has been plagueing me since I woke up: Vampire!Aleksander catching his girl in the library, pulling her and her book into his lap on the nearest futon.

"Read to me, will you darling?" He asks so sweetly as he noses the skin behind your ear.

You oblige him and start reading aloud, mostly ignoring his wandering hands until he starts softly groping you.

"Keep reading," he says when you stop to comment on his ministrations, placing a kiss behind your ear and keeps playing with your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers as you try to do as he asks. And the longer he goes on the more trouble you have concentrating on the book as you start to stutter and attempting to supress the small moans that try to leave you.

And maybe you could cope with it if he didn't stop what he was doing the second you stopped reading, leaving you only more desperate for his touch until you are practically moaning every other word and you're sure you're wet enough to have completely soaked your panties.

"Look at you... so smart a few minutes ago, but once someone starts playing with you every single thought leaves that pretty little head of yours, hmmm? All your brains leaked out of that little hole between your legs."

As he says it, his hand drifts downwards, under the band of your panties and he taps your clit a couple of times, making you whine.

"Well, guess I'll have to show you what us vampires do with dumb little sluts like you."

And he fucks you senseless on every single possible surface in the library and then takes you to the bedroom just to ruin you more

I want him to bite me like an apple

[marvelmusing]

The Darkling Wears Prada

A Shadow and Bone AU

Featuring Editor in Chief!Aleksander & Assistant!Reader

“So how long have you and Mr Morozov been a thing?” Alina asks. There’s no teasing in her voice, just genuine curiosity. You nearly choke on your drink, and her eyes widen at your reaction, “What?”

“We don’t talk about that,” Genya warns her teasingly.

“Because there’s nothing to talk about,” you insist with a sigh. “Aleksander is my boss, and my friend, that is it.”

[marvelmusing]

Spin the Bottle

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader x Alina Starkova (Modern AU)

Summary: During a night of drinks at Nikolai’s house, Genya makes the suggestion of playing spin the bottle. There are two particular people in the group that you hope your spin will land on.

My Masterlist

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You’re in the middle of trying to decipher exactly what ingredients Nikolai had put into the cocktail you’re drinking, when a chorus of your name draws you out of your puzzlement.

“What?” You say laughingly, looking up at the group surrounding you. To your left, Zoya sits in an armchair, and Nikolai sits on the floor in front of her. You’re also lounged on the floor, your legs underneath the coffee table in front of you.

“It’s your turn.” Genya informs you, nodding towards the table. She’s sitting on the sofa directly opposite you, with David on her right and Fedoyr on her left. Ivan sits on the armchair directly next to Fedoyr.

Looking back down at the coffee table, you sigh and reach for the bottle placed on its side. You spin the bottle with a careless flick, and everyone watches eagerly. Rolling your eyes, you lean back against the front of the sofa behind you, brushing slightly against Alina’s calf as you do so.

You glance up at her, giving her an apologetic smile which she shrugs off with a smile of her own. Her calf shifts a little, as she adjusts her position on Aleksander’s lap. Despite having the entire sofa to themselves, it was typical that Alina had immediately placed herself in his lap. And you can hardly blame her.

The bottle wobbles to a halt, and you raise a brow at the direction it’s pointing in, before remarking with a laugh,

“Of course it would land on me.” Zoya shakes her head,

“I think it’s on Aleksander.”

“I’d say Alina.” Nikolai buts in. Zoya rolls her eyes.

“You would wouldn’t you?” He tilts his head back and winks at her. Fedoyr leans over, eyes narrowed as he examines the bottle, before he’s throwing in his opinion.

“From this angle I would say Aleksander.”

“Why not both?” Genya suggests with a raised brow and mischief in her eyes.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes locked on hers. She knows about your crush on the two of them. She knows exactly what she’s doing. You narrow your eyes at her. Placing your glass down on the table, you turn to look up at Alina and Aleksander.

“If that’s okay with you both?”

Their eyes immediately move to one another, and Alina smiles. You see Aleksander’s hand squeeze her waist, and she moves her legs so that only one of Aleksander’s legs is occupied.

When they both turn their eyes on you, your breathing stutters.

“Of course.” Alina says softly.

With their consent, you push up onto your knees and approach them. Your hips sit flush against the base of the sofa, and you’re the perfect height to reach Alina’s lips.

“Ten seconds, remember.” Genya adds and you roll your eyes. Your gaze doesn’t stray from Alina’s eyes as you remark.

“I know how to kiss properly, Gen.”

You’re certain she says something in response, but you’ve already hooked a finger carefully under Alina’s chin and guided her lips to yours.

Her kiss is gentle at first, and you find yourself eager for more. Revelling in her sweet taste, and the soft plush of her lips, you move closer. The finger under her chin trails down her jaw, cupping her face with your palm as you continue the kiss. Alina’s own hand cups your face, keeping you just as close as you want her to be.

In the background, you’re aware of your friends counting down the seconds, and all too soon you know you’ll need to pull away from her.

When you withdraw, her lips cling to your lower lip for a moment, and you take the opportunity to look at her. Flushed cheeks, dark eyes widened, her lips parted and with a few more seconds you know they would be kiss-swollen. Saints, she’s an angel.

“Aleksander’s turn.” Zoya sings, and you can hear the smirk in her voice. Nerves finally begin to bloom in your stomach, and you meet Aleksander’s eyes shyly. He smiles at you, before shaking his head.

“Not from down there, milaya.” He pats his unoccupied thigh, and Alina holds a hand out to you. As you take her hand, you’re incredibly conscious of everyone’s eyes on you. It’s likely they’re making bets on how long it’ll be before you pass out.

Alina doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you’re settled on Aleksander’s thigh, mirroring Alina’s position in his lap. Aleksander’s palm rests on the small of your back, steadying you as you get comfortable.

His hand trails up your side and you shiver.

“Are you ready?” He says softly. You breathe out a tiny laugh.

“I think so.” His reassuring smile alone sends warmth flooding through your body. The fabric of his jumper is soft against your fingers as you cling to the front of him, and his dark eyes threaten to swallow you whole.

Then you lean in.

Aleksander’s hand leaves your body, cupping the nape of your neck as his lips respond to your kiss with an enthusiasm that has your toes curling. His stubble scrapes against your chin as he tilts his head, and for a brief moment you think he’s going to further it. By slipping his tongue into your mouth, or sucking on your lower lip. But he doesn’t, no matter how much you wish he would.

His hold on you loosens, and you lean back. His dark eyes meet yours once again, and you fight the urge to continue kissing him.

With their kisses alone, the two of them have stolen your breath, and now you’re scrambling to gain it back. A brief smile flickers at your lips, and you turn your body so that you’re resting on the couch beside them. Only your legs remain lightly hooked over Aleksander’s thigh as you reach for your drink. Hopefully everyone will fall for your attempt at nonchalance, as you take a sip and say,

“Nik’s turn, isn’t it?”

As the rest of the group carries on with the game, you try and slow the pounding of your heart and avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. Especially the duo pair of dark brown eyes that regularly glance over at you as you ignore how you miss the warmth of their bodies so close to yours, and how your lips are still tingling from their kisses.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

marvelmusing tag list: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt

If you’d like to be added or removed from my tag list just ask!! Feel free to comment or reblog if you liked this!

[marvelmusing]

Can I Ask You A Question?

Part of The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Alina has lots of questions about her new job and your boss. Meanwhile, Aleksander has an important question for you - it just takes him some time to realise it.

Warnings [18+]: brief smut, fingering, references to sex, CEO x assistant trope, praise kink

Read part one -> HERE

My Masterlist

“Why is he is nice to you?”

“Who?”

“Aleksander.” When you breathe out a soft laugh, shaking your head at Alina’s question, she leans closer, as if she’s willing you to understand. “Today, he obliterated a designer for picking out the wrong purse.”

“That wrong purse delayed the photoshoot by almost an hour,” you reason.

She tilts her head, clearly waiting for an explanation - why does the infamously fierce Aleksander Morozov have a soft spot for you?

Sighing quietly, you look down at your drink, fidgeting with the stem of your glass.

“I’ve worked for Aleksander for a long time.”

She waits for more.

“I started off in your position - his second assistant. Nina was his first assistant at the time, and I felt like I would never be able to impress him. The first time he really noticed me was the night before his and Luda’s third wedding anniversary.”

“He’s married?”

A frown creases at your brows.

“Not anymore. The divorce was years ago. It made the headlines for days. How do you not-” You shake your head. Just because you know everything that goes on in Aleksander’s life doesn’t mean everyone else does. “Never mind. Nina had taken the night off for a date. I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s no such thing as a night off when you work for Aleksander.”

Alina nods in agreement.

“A storm came in while he was in Ketterdam, which stopped him from getting on his flight home. No planes were flying in or out of the city.”

“What did you do?”

“Everything I could. I called in a favour with Nikolai, to borrow one of his private jets. Paid for it to land at a private airfield in the Kerch countryside. They managed to charter his flight to Balakriev and I drove two hours to pick him up myself when his usual driver didn’t respond to my calls.”

“And?”

You smile softly.

“He made it home for their anniversary. The last anniversary they had before the divorce.”

“Why did they split up?”

“There was always love in their marriage, but they didn’t understand each other. Aleksander loves his job. He always will. If his partner can’t understand that, the relationship won’t last.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What’s the Morozov rule?” The sound of Alina’s question draws your attention away from the email you’re in the midst of writing. She looks away shyly when you meet her eyes. “Some girls were talking about it in the bathroom earlier.”

Gaze skimming back over the screen of your laptop, you breathe out a quiet scoff.

“Let me guess, the heart-eyed interns?”

She nods.

“A lot of the fashion elites have a specific rule,” you explain. “It’s partially fashion advice, partially PR to make them more memorable.” You click send on your email, changing window to examine Aleksander’s schedule for tomorrow. “Like the Chanel rule - take a look at yourself before you leave the house and remove one item of your outfit.”

Alina listens intently.

“The Morozov rule is to always make sure your underwear matches your shoes. Because at the end of the day, when you take off your dress or your suit that’s all you’ll be wearing.”

A smirk twists at your lips.

“So, if you’re ever wondering what colour underwear Aleksander is wearing, just take a look at his shoes.”

Alina blushes.

“Really?”

“Of course. What kind of a man is he if he doesn’t follow his own rule?”

“How do you know he-”

The sound of Aleksander’s voice rings out from the door to his office, cutting through your conversation with Alina.

“Milaya.”

Responding immediately to your summons, you stand from your desk and make your way into his office. He glances up at you from his papers momentarily, a frown creasing between his brows as his gaze returns to the words in front of him.

“I don’t have anything to wear for my trip to Novyi Zem.” He holds out his credit card, balanced between two of his slim fingers. “I will need enough for six nights. Look at the itinerary for the trip and purchase anything you deem necessary. You know what I like.”

After taking the card from him, you nod.

“Yes, sir. I will be back before your meeting with Nikolai.”

Turning on your heel, you move back towards the door, only for his voice to stop you.

“And milaya?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take Miss Starkova. If she’s going to gain any sense of style for herself she needs to see someone competent at work.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assure him. Like everyone in the fashion industry, you live for Aleksander’s praise.

The hint of a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“As you always do.”

His remark makes your stomach flip.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What’s this?”

Alina peers into the black garment bag curiously.

“A dress. For you. It’s Valentino. One of Aleksander’s picks for the gala.”

She blinks at you in surprise.

“I’m going to the gala?”

You nod.

“Genya will help you get ready. We leave at seven.”

It isn’t long before Aleksander is settling his hand on your lower back, steering the two of you through the crowd at the entrance. Alina looks relieved at the sight of your arrival - you can only imagine how worried she was being surrounded by the flurry of photographers.

As the gala begins, Aleksander claims a corner of the room for himself, waiting for the designers and reporters and politicians to come to him.

Whenever someone approaches your group, you turn your face towards Aleksander, hiding your words in the crook of his neck as you inform him of the names of the people heading his way. His fingers play with the seam of your dress, dancing distractedly down your spine.

Occasionally, you find yourself adjusting the collar of his shirt, fixing the position of his tie, or smoothing down the lapels of his jacket. Just to keep your hands occupied. Unlike a usual gala, where you would be standing one pace behind him, Aleksander keeps you on his arm tonight. Deep down, you know it’s because he doesn’t have a plus one, but it makes you feel special nonetheless.

It’s only once you step out of the little bubble Aleksander always creates, that you stop enjoying yourself. As you place your drinks order at the bar, you attract the attention of Malyen Oretsev - a mediocre journalist - and his friends.

“There she is,” he remarks. “Morozov’s favourite pet.”

Mikhael smirks.

“I don’t know about that, Mal.” He jerks his head towards Aleksander. “Looks like he’s got a shiny new toy to play with.”

Glancing over, you see Alina looking at Aleksander rather bashfully as they seem to be engaged in a somewhat stilted conversation. The sight makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Have a nice evening,” you state casually, collecting your drinks before you head back in the direction of Aleksander and Alina.

All night, you try your best to ignore Mikhael’s words, but it seems they’ve burrowed their way into your psyche.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Why can’t I give him the book?”

Alina peers curiously at the book, as you turn the pages slowly to show her the magazine mockups for next month’s issue.

“Aleksander is very selective about who he allows into his house.” Alina seems mildly offended and you decide to soften the blow slightly by adding, “Besides, he usually likes to do a final run through so that he can brief me on tomorrow’s agenda.”

Towards the end of the month, during the final stages of development for the next publication, you usually find yourself working late at Aleksander’s house. Over the years, there’s been countless times when you’ve helped him rework an entire issue in a matter of hours, pouring your ideas together over his kitchen table.

Luckily, this month has been somewhat smooth sailing. Though that doesn’t mean your to-do list isn’t still a mile long. When you’re alone with Aleksander like this, the persona he’s created for himself loosens and he’s patient as you ask him enough questions to be prepared for the day ahead of you tomorrow.

“Anything else?” he asks.

You shake your head, remarking as you bend your neck from side to side,

“All I need now is a hot bath.”

“Use mine,” he states, not even looking up at you as he finishes filing away the pages into the book. “Stay the night.”

“What?”

He raises a brow at you.

“You ought to know by now that I don’t like repeating myself.”

“I- Are you sure?” He gives you a firm look and heat rushes to your cheeks. “Sorry, stupid question. Thank you.”

He shows you into his personal bathroom, a lavish en-suite connected to his bedroom by a wooden folding door. He’s blasé about his toiletries, opening a cupboard to show you before he retreats back into his bedroom.

Once the bath is full of water and a copious amount of bubbles, you slip out of your clothing and into the tub with your hair and makeup still intact. The warmth makes you sigh softly, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back against the rim of the bath. It’s only the sound of the door opening that makes you open your eyes again.

Aleksander stands in the open doorway, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up haphazardly and the buttons undone down to the centre of his chest. His gaze is heated as his eyes remain locked on yours, and despite the intensity you don’t shy away from him.

He circles around the bath tub slowly, his knuckles tracing the curve of your neck when he finally stands behind you.

His thumbs press into the centre of your back, working on the tension in the muscles that no amount of stretching can ease. He moves his hands knowingly, finding the areas that give you the most discomfort after long hours at the office. When he presses the right spot, your back arches, your body pliant in his hold as you breathe out a soft moan.

He smirks, cocky in the fact that he knows only his touch can bring you this sort of relief. His smirk fades slightly, as his focus shifts and he traces his fingers up your back, stroking over your shoulders.

He presses his face against your cheek, his lips brushing over your skin as he breathes in the scent of his soap. Tantalisingly close to a kiss. Then he sinks onto his knees, his hands descending beneath the water.

Turning your head, you’re face to face with Aleksander, your nose brushing against his as he draws a slow line down your body, between the valley of your breasts before he circles your navel.

“May I?” he murmurs.

“Please, Aleksander.”

With one hand, he grasps the back of your neck to limit your squirming, while the other descends downwards to play with your cunt. It’s slow and deliberate, the way he works you up towards your orgasm. The only sound in the room is your breathy gasps and the subtle splash of bath water against the sides of the tub.

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined what Aleksander might be like in bed. You know you aren’t alone in that. The rumours all paint him in the same light. Dominant. Controlling. Mildly sadistic. That’s what makes the praises that fall from his lips all the more effective.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmurs directly into the crook of your neck. His voice is a soft and soothing rasp. “You’re doing so well for me.” He smiles when you gasp loudly, writhing with unabashed pleasure. “Utterly perfect.”

His words fade away, until all you can hear is the hurried beat of your heart hammering away in your chest as you come astonishingly close to your release.

“Please, Aleksander. I need it. Need you, oh, fuck-”

He rests his hand on the rim of the tub, palm upwards as he anticipates the sudden backwards motion of your head when you reach your climax. As pleasure courses through your body, his hand curls around to cradle the back of your head. He’s silent, eyeing you attentively as the aftereffects slowly wind down.

“Aleksander?” you whisper.

His thumb strokes down the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He regards you seriously, his eyes flickering over your features, then he nods. Before you can lean upwards to kiss him, he adds,

“If you do, I won’t be able to stop myself from climbing into this bath to take this further.”

“And if I don’t want you to stop yourself?”

He grips the nape of your neck, directing your mouth to meet his.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Do I have to?” Alina whines, hiding her face with her hands in embarrassment at the thought of heading a few floors down to the lingerie photoshoot to retrieve the file of images taken today.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure her. “Aleksander wants to look at the photos before the models go home for the day.”

“Can’t the photographers just email them to him?”

You shake your head.

“He likes to look at the printouts.”

She sighs.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

She returns with red cheeks, gripping the paper folder tightly in her hands. She doesn’t make eye contact with you as she walks by your desk to give the folder to Aleksander. Almost as soon as she sits down at her desk opposite you, Aleksander calls for you.

“Milaya.”

Alina busies herself with typing as you walk by her, into Aleksander’s office.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d like your opinion on something.” He selects a page, turning it over in his hand so that he’s offering it to you. “What do you think of this?”

Taking the page in hand, you look down at the two images, side by side. The first is a close up of a model wearing an unbelievably expensive bralette.

Pale blue boning, covered in a soft mesh a few shades lighter. The entire garment has been decorated with intricate embroidery, adorned in pearls and tiny gems that create the illusion of flowers. The image beside it shows off the matching thong - a tiny triangle of fabric embellished with the same exquisite details.

“The photos?”

He shakes his head.

“The outfit. Would you wear something like this?”

Heat spreads over your cheeks at his question.

“I would. It’s very pretty.”

“Do you like the colour?” he asks, selecting another page to show you. “Or do you prefer the pink?”

After considering both pieces, you admit quietly,

“I like the blue.”

He hums.

“Very well.” He holds out his hand expectingly and you place the pages back in his palm. “Your measurements haven’t changed have they?”

His question makes your brows scrunch together in confusion.

“No, sir.”

“The designer is creating a custom piece as a gift for me. Offering it to anyone else in this building but you would be a waste.”

“A waste?”

He nods, not looking up at you.

“That’s all.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What’s wrong?” Alina asks you.

She must have noticed your anxious fidgeting; you’ve straightened the same pen on your desk four times already. But you can’t tell her what is actually on your mind.

“Nothing. I’m just keeping an eye on the time. Aleksander’s driver should be arriving soon.”

Sure enough, your phone rings and Aleksander’s driver is on the line, informing you that he’s parked outside the building. Once you’ve retrieved Aleksander, you accompany him down in the elevator.

He lists a few tasks for you to complete while he is out at his meeting and you distractedly make a note of them all. It’s only once the two of you are out in the fresh air, that you’re able to speak.

“I need to talk to you.” He doesn’t turn, ignoring you until you grasp at his sleeve, just as he reaches his car. “Aleksander.”

He turns to face you.

“What is it?”

Instantly, the weight of his eyes makes you nervous. Of course, you’ve thought about what you want to say to him but now the words fail you. The Aleksander in front of you now is different from the one you were with the other night.

“It’s about that night at your house,” you clarify. “I don’t want any special treatment because of what happened between us.”

He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

“Special treatment?” he repeats.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the set you offered me, but I don’t want anyone to think you’re favouring me.”

“Tell me about the designer of that piece.”

“She’s a Ravkan designer. All her work is couture, with hand stitched embroidery and embellishments. The pearls and gems are all sourced sustainably; she limits her collection to only forty pieces per style to minimise the environmental impact…”

When you realise how much you’re talking - about things that Aleksander most likely knows already - your words trail off into nothing. His mouth quirks into a half-smile that he quickly smoothes out into a more neutral expression.

“You are the one of the few people who understand the value of that design,” he says in a low voice. “And that is the only reason I wanted you to have it.”

“The only reason?” you repeat, hoping that he might have wanted you to have the lingerie because you would look good in it.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he glances down at the front of your top, eyeing the skin on show there briefly before he turns away, leaving you in shock as he climbs into his car. Did Aleksander just eye up your cleavage?

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Are those new?”

Alina’s question makes you peer down at your shoes - the object of her attention - and you smile.

“Yes. They are.”

The pale blue of your shoes are an almost perfect match to the lingerie set Aleksander had gifted to you - not to mention the heels are adorned in shimmering gems and pearls.

Alina takes the time to admire them, as the two of you stand beside the printer.

“Miss Starkova,” Aleksander calls out, standing in the doorway between his office and the one you share with Alina. “I need ten scarves from Gucci, and fetch my coffee on your way back in.”

Alina glances at you momentarily, wide eyed, before she nods resolutely.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s an anxious edge to her movements as she grabs her phone and bag, but she seems determined to adhere to Aleksander’s demands on her own this time. Both you and Aleksander watch her leave.

When you turn back to face him, Aleksander’s gaze is sweeping down your body, assessing your outfit as he always does, yet he lingers on your shoes for a moment. His throat bobs lightly as he swallows, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“A perfect match,” he observes.

Before you can respond, he turns and walks back into his office.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Where have you been?” Alina asks, shifting her weight anxiously on the pavement.

Cheeks flushing with warmth, you wipe at your lower lip with your thumb to ensure your makeup is still intact. The two of you head up the steps, into the entrance of Cartier.

“The car got caught in traffic.”

“Aleksander must have been furious.” You hum rather distractedly in agreement, smoothing down your skirt.

“He’s waiting in the car now, so we’ll have to make this quick.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Where are you going?” Alina asks, turning to watch as you back away down the pavement. “I thought we were celebrating.” The last night of fashion week, the pinnacle of all your hard work over the last year has been finally reached.

It’s been almost a year since Alina first started working alongside you, but you don’t yet trust her with the full truth when you answer.

“I’m going to head back to the hotel,” you tell her before adding, “I’m exhausted.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

Shaking your head, you tuck your coat tighter around your body.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. Go enjoy yourself.”

When you finally reach your hotel bed, you collapse onto the mattress, still wearing your coat and shoes. It’s completely unintentional, the way you fall asleep draped over the bed.

After an indeterminable amount of time passes, a kiss is pressed to your cheek, rousing you from your slumber as someone nestles themselves over your body.

“Hello there, sleeping beauty,” a familiar voice coos playfully. Blinking the drowsiness from your eyes, you murmur a mildly bemused response,

“Sasha?”

He laughs softly.

“Who else, milaya?” He presses another kiss to your cheek, his lips moving toward your ear. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I stuck my head in the study,” you explain sleepily. “You were working… didn’t want to disturb you.”

He slips your coat off your shoulders, lowering kisses across your neck and collarbones as he reaches for the zipper on the back of your dress.

“You should have. I would have come to bed hours ago had I known you were back.”

“I’m so tired,” you murmur as your eyelids droop. Aleksander smiles fondly, pulling your dress down your body.

“You outdid yourself this year.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of your mouth. Aleksander lifts himself off the bed, crossing the room towards the en-suite. “The Starkova girl has improved,” he states, wringing out a cloth. “You seem to like this one.”

“I do,” you confirm, kicking your shoes off onto the floor. “She’s nice, though she’s been asking a lot of questions lately.”

“About us?”

“About you, mostly. I think she has a crush.”

“Poor girl,” he remarks drily as he sits down beside you and begins to wipe the makeup from your face. “Have you told her about us?”

“I thought you wanted this to be a secret?”

He shakes his head.

“I want to keep you safe. From the press and the gossip that follows me. Besides, I know how much you love working for the magazine. I would hate to jeopardise that.”

“Well, I might find something that I enjoy more than working as your assistant.”

“Such as?”

The smile you give him is soft as you fidget with the creases in his trousers.

“Your wife.”

His own smile is boyish as he teases,

“That is quite the promotion you’re offering yourself.” Then his expression grows more serious. “Even as my wife, I wouldn’t expect you to give up your job - not unless you wanted to.”

That makes your smile widen, your cheeks warming at the casual tone his voice adopts when considering you as his wife.

“Besides,” he adds. “Where would I find someone as capable as you?”

“I could mentor Alina.”

He hums, unconvinced, and you laugh at the sight of his apprehension. It’s sweet, knowing you’ve taken such a root in Aleksander’s life. He trusts you, unconditionally.

“I’m not handing my notice in yet,” you tease him, before adding with a small laugh, “Unless you’re planning on proposing tonight.”

Aleksander doesn’t laugh.

“Sasha?”

The corner of his lips quirk with the hint of a laugh, embarrassment touching at his features.

“I-” He sighs, shaking his head as his smile widens. “You’ve ruined the surprise.”

“Sasha,” you repeat, thoroughly caught off guard. “You’re not serious.”

“Of course I am.”

“Aleksander, I’m not wearing any makeup. I’m in my underwear.”

He doesn’t look impressed by your protests.

“Milaya, if you’re finished making rather obvious statements, I’d like to propose to you.”

The look he gives you has your lips pressing closed, giving him the chance to speak. Almost immediately, your excitement spills over your expression - a giddy smile tugging at your lips. Aleksander smiles fondly, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he admires you.

“I can’t believe you used to hide this from me. My pretty girl.”

“Well, dating the Aleksander Morozov was rather daunting at first,” you admit bashfully. He tilts his head at you.

“And do you think you can marry the Aleksander Morozov?”

Being married to Aleksander will attract attention - the kind that you’re unused to. The entire world will have something to say about you - what you wear, how you act - it will all be scrutinised by the tabloids and the social media comments. But he’s worth it, a million times over.

“I will if he actually asks me,” you remark teasingly.

He breathes out a laugh, kissing your cheek.

“Let me fetch the ring.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird

[marvelmusing]

Thirst Tweets

part of the Q&A Universe

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader (Actors AU)

Summary: With Aleksander and Alina by your side, you suffer through the mortifying ordeal of reading thirst tweets to promote your new film.

Warnings [18+]: discussions of sex, thirst tweets, mentions of filming intimate scenes, hair pulling

Part One • My Masterlist

“So, in front of each of you is a pot filled with tweets about one of your costars,” the producer explains as the people behind the camera make their final preparations before starting filming.

“Who’ve I got…?” you muse, spinning the pot so that you can see the label on the front of it. “Oh, Aleksander.” Frowning, you lean to look at the other two pots on either side of you. “Who has me?”

Alina turns her pot and the two of you lean closer to read the label.

“I do.”

“Then Sasha has Alina’s,” you conclude as Alina settles back in her chair.

He tilts his pot slightly, eyes narrowing as he checks his own label. Then he nods.

“Yes,” he confirms.

“Okay,” the producer says with a smile. “Once we start filming, there’ll be just a quick introduction and then we’ll jump right into it.”

“Quick question,” you say, which has both Aleksander and Alina turning to look at you. “Are these tweets the dirty kind or the weird kind?”

The producer blinks at you, tilting her head aside in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I’ve seen these sort of videos before, and sometimes they’re more funny than filthy, and I was just wondering what kind of video ours is going to be.”

“I think we should just find out,” Alina remarks with a grin, already peering down into her pot filled with tweets about you.

“I’d prefer to be prepared,” you reason.

“As would I,” Aleksander agrees. Alina huffs, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Why don’t I go first and test the waters for you?”

You nod.

“Alright.”

The producer retreats behind the camera, giving you a small countdown before filming begins. Clearing your throat, you straighten in your seat, smoothing down your clothes to ensure you’re presentable. Aleksander nudges his elbow against yours, bringing your eyes to his, and he gives you a soft reassuring smile.

Then filming begins.

“I’m Alina Starkova.”

She tilts her head at you, prompting you to introduce yourself as well. Once you do, you turn to Aleksander.

“I’m Aleksander Morozov, and today we are reading thirst tweets.”

Alina wastes no time, rummaging through the pieces of card in the pot in front of her. Knowing she’s about to read something about you out loud has you tapping your foot nervously. Aleksander loops his pinkie around yours, giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you smile at him.

“It’s this photo of you,” Alina announces, once she’s made her selection.

She turns the piece of card around so that you and Aleksander can see. The image is a screen-cap from the film, where your character is sitting on a window seat wearing her nightdress, the early morning sun glowing behind her. When Alina turns the card back around, her brows scrunch together as she reads the rest of the tweet.

“Just me on my knees for this goddess.”

“That’s not too bad,” you reason, looking at Aleksander for his opinion. He nods, leaning further onto his elbow on the arm of his chair - the one closest to you.

“Quite the compliment really,” he adds in agreement. Alina laughs.

“Let me finish reading.” She reaches over to swat at your knee - bare due to the skirt you’re wearing - which makes you pout, feigning offence at her show of violence to ignore how your skin tingles at her touch. “Just me on my knees for this goddess. Let me get between those thighs, I want to drink her like a sweet summer wine.”

“Um, okay.”

She laughs again, raising a brow at your reaction.

“Okay?”

“Well what am I supposed to say?” You direct your gaze towards the camera. “Thank you.” Quickly, you turn to your left. “Aleksander, your turn now.”

He sighs. Reaching into his pot, he pulls out the first card he can get hold of. There’s a moment of anticipation, as his eyes scour over the words printed there. Then he says in the calmest, most neutral tone you’ve heard from him,

“I would do the most depraved things imaginable to have Alina Starkova’s tits in my mouth.”

A startled laugh gets caught in your throat as you clasp your hands over your face, your cheeks heating at the sound of Aleksander saying such things so casually. Alina laughs uncontrollably, her face flushed giddily as she slides down in her chair.

“I hope that goes in the video,” she says through her laughter. “Because I will immediately be setting that as my ringtone.”

“You along with half the people watching this,” you remark quietly.

Aleksander lowers the card, shooting a scandalised look at you both.

“You know you love us,” Alina teases, wiggling her fingers at him. Aleksander shakes his head with a soft laugh, attempting to hide his smile with faux disapproval.

“Brats, both of you.” He nudges your knee with his. “Your turn now.”

A pout puckers at your lips, and your features crinkling petulantly at the humiliating thought of reading out something horrifically dirty regarding Aleksander. Sensing your reluctance, Alina holds out her hand for you to take.

“I’ll hold your hand, baby.”

Her rings are cool against your skin as she curls her fingers around yours, and she presses her lips chastely to your knuckles, making an affectionate kiss sound as she does so. With your other hand, you reach for a card from the pot.

“It’s just this photo of you…” Turning the card around, you show them a candid image of Aleksander on set. “…and then it says-”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head.

“Go on,” Alina encourages you.

“I know his dick is big.”

Alina takes the card from you, examining the photo with an extreme level of focus which makes your cheeks burn even hotter. When you risk a glance at Aleksander, you find the tips of his ears are flushed pink despite the neutral expression he is maintaining on his face. His eyes meet yours and you look away quickly.

The weight of Aleksander’s hand on the back of your chair is the only thing you can focus on, alongside the blood rushing in your ears, as Alina picks up another card from the pot in front of her.

For the next half an hour, the three of you read out tweets until you’ve experienced enough embarrassment to keep you flustered for the rest of the afternoon. As you reach the end of filming, there are three cards left. The producer had explained earlier that all three of you would be the subject of these final tweets.

After some encouragement from the two of them, you go first.

“This just says that we’re the definition of bi panic.” That makes Alina laugh, reaching for her own card.

“I want all three of them to rearrange my insides.” Alina looks up at the camera with a coy smile. “Name a time and a place, sweetheart.”

She winks and Aleksander laughs softly, which makes your stomach flip. He picks up his own card, the final one for the video. He turns it over slowly, crossing his ankle over his knee as he reads.

His eyes remain fixed on the words there, reading them several times with flushed cheeks and parted lips, as he attempts to find his voice. He glances at you momentarily and the look on his face makes you squirm in your seat. When he catches Alina’s eye, she grins.

“This tweet is from Alina.”

That makes your jaw drop, your stomach plummeting simultaneously.

“What?”

“Go on Sasha,” she teases in a sing-song voice.

“I-” He falters, before he groans quietly through gritted teeth. “Alya,” he sighs. “This afternoon, I spent three hours in bed, between the two hottest people I’ve ever met. I get paid to lick her pretty thighs while he kisses her senseless. I have the best job in the world, argue with the wall.”

Alina laughs, clapping her hands together in gleeful applause while you and Aleksander you look at one another rather bashfully. Memories of filming with them both play over in your mind. The summer had been hot. The three of you had practiced one of the main intimacy scenes in the comfort of Aleksander’s trailer, with the chill of his air conditioning pebbling your nipples.

But there had been no such luxury during filming, when you were in costume - lace hemmed bloomers and a half undone corset. Sweat rolling down Alina’s calf, along Aleksander’s collarbone, glossing over your chest. The remembered heat of her mouth and his hands makes you ache even now.

Once filming is finished, the camera crew and producers exchange pleasantries with the three of you, before clearing out of the room and leaving you in peace.

Alina retrieves her bag from the side of the room, which had been placed out of sight of the cameras, setting it down on her chair. She pops her compact mirror open, checking over her makeup and you watch as she reapplies her lip gloss.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Aleksander concedes with a sigh. He rubs the back of his neck, tilting his head from side to side.

“I found it quite enjoyable,” Alina remarks teasingly, flashing you a smile that makes your stomach flip.

“Of course you did,” you argue, stretching your legs out as you cross your arms. “This was all your idea.”

“I think you enjoyed it too.” She smiles, leaning over to tap the end of your nose which makes you duck your head bashfully.

“No comment.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next morning, you’re tackling a few interviews on your own. It feels strange without Aleksander or Alina by your side.

“This is your first film with any sort of intimate scenes,” the interviewer states.

“It is, yeah.”

“And I’d say some of the scenes are rather… intense. How was that?”

Her question makes you smile, thinking about how much work you and Aleksander put into your scenes. The memory of his hand in your hair, pulling your head back to reveal your throat for him makes you shift in your seat.

“Well, I was extremely lucky to have such incredible costars. Aleksander in particular was meticulous when it came to preparations. We would run through our lines together, and then walk through the scene, trying out different positions and reactions to see what worked best for us both. He knows the safest methods to pull hair which...” Heat spreads across your cheeks despite the smirk tugging at your lips. “…certainly came in handy for a few scenes.”

The interviewer smiles widely.

“I can imagine.”

Ducking your head slightly, you glance down at your painted fingernails as you smooth your hands over your trousers. It still makes you flustered, talking about the scenes you filmed with Aleksander and Alina.

“The film is based on a book,” she says.

You nod.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve recently been involved in recording a new version of the audiobook.”

That makes you smile.

“I have. I narrate the story and voice my character. Aleksander and Alina also voiced their own characters from the film, and I think Aleksander did a few background characters as well.”

“What was it like working with them again?”

“The whole experience was completely different from anything I’ve ever done before,” you admit. “The three of us were recording in the same room, so there was a really natural overlap between our voices in our scenes - which I love.”

Being in the recording booth with Aleksander and Alina was so much fun. At times, the sexual tension between your characters had made you squirm.

“I love full cast audiobooks, I think they’re so immersive and fun. We included some of the soundtrack from the film as well which adds a whole other layer to it. I feel like we’ve made something really special together.”

“Have you listened to it yet?”

The thought of listening to the audiobook, now fully edited with your voice describing the intimate scenes between your characters, while Aleksander and Alina moan and whisper sweet nothings and dirty promises through your headphones, makes you bite down on your lip to suppress a nervous laugh.

“Not yet, no. And I wouldn’t recommend listening to it in public. Especially chapter nineteen.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says with a small laugh. “Are you looking forward to the premiere? It’s your first one in a starring role.”

“It is, yeah. I’m excited - most definitely nervous as well - but at least I won’t be walking the red carpet alone.”

She raises a brow at you.

“Oh? Are you bringing a date?”

Heat rushes down through your body at the misunderstanding.

“Oh no, I meant Aleksander and Alina will be there too.”

She smiles.

“Will the premiere be the first time you see the film?”

“It will. I’ve seen a couple of clips and the trailer, but apart from that I’m going in blind.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21 Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird @kksbookstuff

[marvelmusing]

Personal Shopper

from The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: In preparation for your honeymoon, you and Aleksander go shopping. Per usual, he has high standards.

Warnings: brief mentions of sex and nudity

My Masterlist

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Disgust curls at the corner of Aleksander’s lips, his nostrils flaring as he surveys the luminous rainbow of swim shorts hanging in front of you. For someone whose wardrobe consists of black and white, the options on display feel like an insulting form of colour exposure therapy.

“You could have told me there were no viable options for me here,” he says.

“If you just ignore the brightly coloured ones-”

“A blind person would struggle to ignore those.”

“There’s a navy blue?”

“When have you ever seen me wear navy blue?”

“Almost every man likes navy blue.”

“No, almost every man wears navy blue because he doesn’t understand the concept of dressing himself and thinks he can’t go wrong with blue.”

The manager of the store hovers at a respectable distance - ready to assist but not too overbearing. A group of younger employees have gathered discretely in a corner, talking quietly amongst themselves while shooting furtive glances in your direction.

“What about dark grey?” you suggest, selecting a pair from the rack and offering them for him to examine.

Aleksander takes a long look at them, and sighs.

“Go on,” you say expectantly.

He raises a brow at you, his expression innocent.

“What?”

“From the look on your face, there’s clearly something wrong with them.”

He pauses, regarding you somewhat sheepishly. Glancing down, he looks at his shoes, then back up at the shorts.

“The drawstrings are white.”

“Aleksander-”

“It looks inexpensive!” he defends. You laugh, shaking your head at him.

He watches you glance down at the shorts, eyes fixating on the drawstrings before you sigh and discard them back on the rack.

“Now you’ve said that, I won’t be able to unsee it.”

Aleksander breathes out a soft laugh, curling his arms around your waist to pull you back against his chest as you browse the other items of clothing nearby. He lowers his head down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs,

“I’m sorry for being so particular.”

A smile spreads over your lips, as you place your hands on his forearms, keeping him close while you lean back into his body.

“No, you’re not.”

He smiles.

“No, I’m not.”

“The worst part is, you always look good, meaning your fussiness is well-founded.”

He tilts his head at you, lips parted in faux shock.

“Fussiness?”

“Don’t sound so astounded. If I tried to tell anyone at work that you aren’t fussy, I’d be laughed out of the building.”

His eyes wander over the items of clothing in the store, a certain area in particular catching his attention.

“I can think of one instance where I’m not fussy,” he remarks. He feels your head turn, looking in the direction of his gaze.

“If you’re talking about my lingerie, I’d have to disagree.”

He stills, looking down at you in concern.

“Have I ever made you feel uncomf-”

“No, Sasha. Never. It’s just that I can usually tell from your reaction what pieces you like more than others. I could probably guess what your favourite set of mine is.” He nods slightly, encouraging you to state your guess. “The black silk set - the one lined with white lace.”

He tilts his head, humming quietly in contemplation.

“I would consider that one of my favourites. But it isn’t my favourite.”

“What is your favourite then?”

His cheeks flush.

“It isn’t even a matching set,” he admits. “The cream cotton bra, with little purple and blue flowers. And the blue cotton panties with white polka dots.”

A small sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat.

At the beginning of your relationship, you had been shy about showing him the less than perfect parts of you. When you’re at work, everything is perfect - just how Aleksander likes it.

He had caught you by surprise, the first time he saw his favourite ensemble, kissing you in the makeshift office created for him during a photoshoot. As always, you had melted in his arms, kissing him back eagerly. Until he reached for the button at the waistband of your trousers. He stopped the moment he felt you stiffen.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

He sees the hesitation on your face and removes his hands from you.

“I didn’t think you’d want this today,” you admit, fidgeting nervously with your hands. “I thought you’d be too busy with the shoot.”

His expression softens, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your cheek. He lets his knuckles linger there.

“What do you mean?”

He feels your cheeks heat beneath his hand, then you say in a near whisper,

“I’m not wearing my nice underwear. They’re just plain cotton, nothing special.”

To this day, Aleksander disagrees wholeheartedly.

“Really?” you state, turning your head to look at him. “That’s your favourite?”

He nods, shrugging slightly.

“I don’t know what it is, it just feels so domestic, seeing you in them.”

He feels your body grow warm in his arms.

After years of seeing you with only perfect makeup and meticulously picked outfits, the sight of you barefaced, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a zip hoodie is one of his favourite daydreams.

Aleksander kisses your cheek.

“You look beautiful in anything - and nothing.”

“Sasha!” you scold him quietly, glancing around to check that no one is close enough to hear him.

He presses his face into the side of yours, lips brushing delicately against your cheekbone as his nose digs into your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

He can feel the blood rushing to your face as you smile.

“I love you too.”

Aleksander smiles softly.

“Which ones do you like best?”

“You want me to pick?”

He breathes out a soft laugh at your widened eyes.

“Marriage is about compromise. They are for our honeymoon after all.”

With mischief curling at your lips, your fingers dance over the bright yellow swim shorts.

“Milaya,” he says warningly. “Don’t be cruel.”

You laugh quietly.

“What about these?”

A subtle summery shade of sky blue, embossed with a small grey logo near the hem of the right leg. Aleksander will admit, they are a nice colour, despite being different from his preferred palette. Not to mention that they will pair well with a few of the shirts already in his wardrobe - though he doubts he will be wearing a shirt at all given the expected heat.

Nevertheless, he feigns a sigh as he takes the swim shorts from you.

“Anything for you, milaya.”

He can’t help but smile when he sees you roll your eyes.

When the two of you finally climb into the back of Aleksander’s car, you’re kissing him senseless. From the moment he mentioned your underwear, you’ve been flustered, taking every opportunity to have your hands on him. Now that you’re alone, you cannot suppress your need.

He can feel your lip gloss smearing over his mouth, sticky and sweet. Aleksander cups your jaw, holding you in place as he works on devouring you.

He feels you frown when your phone buzzes, interrupting your moment. When you make no movement to reach for the device, Aleksander tears his lips from yours momentarily as he peers at the screen.

“What is it?” you ask breathlessly.

Being Aleksander’s assistant means you like to stay well informed on what the press is saying about him. The notification is from your news app.

News Alert: Aleksander Morozov sighted with fiancée.

He smiles.

“Nothing.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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