Curate, connect, and discover
FUUUUUUCCKKKKKK AAHHHHHH, OKAY SO IM NOT EVEN IN THE FANDOM AND NEITHER HAVE I WATCHED THE SHOW OR READ THE BOOK(S?) BUT OML I- WHATT THATWASOHOTWTFPLS SAVE ME
Pairing: Modern!Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader
Summary: Despite your insistence that Aleksander is not your uncle, Alina is still under the impression that you have a very hot uncle.
Warnings [18+]: Aleksander rubs sun lotion over the reader’s body, alcohol consumption, reader is very desperate for Aleksander.
My Masterlist
»»---------------------►
“Your uncle is so hot.”
Glancing up from your book, you frown at Alina as she slumps herself down on the sun lounger next to you. Looking around in puzzlement, you soon find your three uncles gathered around the barbecue with your dad. Your nose wrinkles at the thought of your friend finding any of them attractive. Nevertheless, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask,
“Which one?”
“The one that’s looking at us right now.” She looks down hurriedly, a blush coating her cheeks. Your frown deepens, and you scour the yard in search of anyone looking your way.
Then your eyes meet Aleksander’s. The corner of his mouth quirks into a half smile, and your stomach flips. You offer him a shy smile of your own, before forcing yourself to laugh as you turn back to your friend.
“He’s not my uncle.” She looks up at you with confusion in her eyes.
“But Harry called him Uncle Sasha.” You smile.
“All my cousins call him Uncle Sasha.” You shake your head. “Aleksander Morozov - he’s one of dad’s business partners.”
You had never called him Uncle Sasha, and you had always argued that the nickname was for the younger kids, after all, he wasn’t actually your uncle.
“So he’s rich too?”
You give her a scolding look, but she simply rubs her hands together conspiratorially which draws a more genuine laugh from you. Then she unties the strings at the back of her bikini top. Your jaw drops.
“Alina, what are you-“
She only giggles in response.
“Rub some lotion on me will you?”
She then winks and lies down on her front. Giving both you and Aleksander a clear view of her ass, and the tiny triangle of fabric she’s wearing as bottoms. You don’t move for a solid three seconds, too astounded by what she’s asking for - and why.
Squirting some sun lotion onto your hands, you feel a little self conscious that you’ve been drawn into this plan of Alina’s to attract Aleksander’s attention. You can feel his eyes on you, and you do your best not to look at him.
Instead, you focus on smoothing your hands over Alina’s soft skin. Of course Aleksander would look over at her. You move your thumbs in circles as you rub the lotion in, almost massaging her, and her hips shift slightly.
She lifts her head up, turning towards you.
“You should put a little under my waistband. Just in case.” Your mind is far too scrambled with embarrassment and anxiety to notice her glancing over to meet Aleksander’s gaze.
Smearing more lotion on your hands, you carefully lift up the waistband of her bottoms and run your hands along the length of her waist. You pray that your parents, or any other family member for that matter, aren’t looking over at this point. You’re consumed by these thoughts, until a shadow passes over Alina’s body, bringing you back to reality.
Then you hear a warm, silky voice say,
“Good afternoon ladies.” You look up and meet Aleksander’s dark eyes.
From your position on the sun lounger, you’re eye level with his crotch, and you know he sees your gaze flicker down briefly. Alina sits up with a dazzling smile.
“Thanks, love. Will you do me up?”
You fumble with the strings as Alina directs her attention to Aleksander.
“Mr Morozov, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and you must be Alina.” She brings one of her knees up to her chest, curling her arms around the folded limb as she grins.
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Only good things I assure you.”
Your cheeks warm as you remember you had briefly told Aleksander that you’d invited Alina over. It had only been a passing conversation - as all your conversations with Aleksander were.
He turns his attention back to you.
“Would you like some help with that milaya?” He asks, gesturing down to the bottle of lotion that you’re currently fiddling with. “We wouldn’t you to get burnt either, now would we?”
You blink up at him, and he shakes his head slightly with widened eyes as if he were miming the response he wanted from you. You hurry to shake your head in response, before adding a small,
“Please.”
He settles on the lounger next to you, his long fingers curling around the bottle and you turn to face Alina so that Aleksander can apply the lotion to your back. Alina pulls a face that shows you what she thinks of you not being brave enough to lie down on the lounger - completely at Aleksander’s mercy. You stick your tongue out in response.
Aleksander observes the encounter quietly as he smooths the lotion over his palms.
“I gather that the two of you are close?” He says, and prevents you from answering as his cool fingers rub over your shoulders. Alina answers him instead.
“We’ve known each other since high school.”
Aleksander’s hands are large, and feel so much better than yours must have felt to Alina. He takes his time, running over the length of your back. You hardly breathe when his fingers dip under your waistband, and you wonder if he likes what he sees.
Aleksander’s fingers trace along the curve of your spine, and you squirm. Alina knows you better than you know yourself. So, when she had seen you look at Aleksander she knew you wanted him. You can see the mischief in her eyes as Aleksander continues to touch you. She looks sickeningly pleased with herself as she picks up the book you were reading.
It’s only Aleksander’s voice that pulls you away from her gaze.
“Turn around milaya, let me do your front.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to, I can do-“
“Nonsense. Let me.”
Aleksander’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Alina looks thrilled at the prospect. So, on shaky legs you turn and face Aleksander. He gives you a fond smile that makes your embarrassment seem worthwhile. That is until he puts his hands back on you.
He smooths over your neck, fingers curling ever so slightly around your throat, and you know he sees the glazed look in your eyes.
“You’ve missed a spot.” Alina says lightly, and you shoot her a glance. She only grins at you, turning a page with a delicate finger.
Aleksander pays her no mind as he slides his fingers under the straps of your bikini top, and you try your hardest not to squirm. His touch is featherlight against your collarbones, and you want to arch into him.
He squeezes more lotion onto his palm which he then spreads over your stomach. You jump at the contact and a small gasp leaves your lips. Aleksander looks at you, there’s concern in his eyes, but he raises a brow as if he’s scolding you for squirming.
“Sorry. Just cold.” You mumble. The corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk.
In a few smooth motions, Aleksander has covered your thighs in lotion, and you hold you breath for the entire time. When he’s done he looks back at your face, no doubt taking in your wide eyes and rapidly expanding chest.
Alina grins, leaning over your lounger with a towel, before passing it to Aleksander.
“Say thank you to Uncle Sasha.” She teases.
His dark eyes meet yours, and your cheeks are aflame. You’ve never called him that. But the words are right there on the tip of your tongue, your lips already parted to say it aloud. Then your mom calls out your name. You sigh in relief and scramble up away from them both.
“I’ll be right back.” You tell them, knowing it’s a lie.
You spend the rest of the day avoiding them both.
»»---------------------►
It gets worse from that moment onwards.
Your crush on Aleksander had always been a secret - it was a private fantasy of yours that you never even dreamed of acting upon.
After the encounter during your family barbecue, Aleksander doesn’t stop plaguing your life.
You’re half asleep, drinking your morning tea in your parents’ kitchen, enjoying the peace before you sister and her children arrive to wreak havoc on the house. As you lower the mug from your lips you nearly choke on the liquid already halfway down your throat. Aleksander raises a brow at you as he waltzes into the kitchen with messy bed head, wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts.
“Aleksander, what are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you too milaya.” He says breezily as he opens up the cupboard beside you to pull out some bread. You watch, in something akin to disbelief, as he makes toast.
Why does he look more comfortable in your family home than you do?
“Did you sleep well?” He asks you. No you most certainly did not. Every time your eyes fluttered closed, ready to sleep, the feeling of Aleksander’s hands gliding down your body in strong firm motions haunted you. You decide to deflect,
“You haven’t answered my question.” He raises a brow at you as you sit at the kitchen island. You open the tub of cereal and pour yourself a bowlful. “What are you doing here?”
He glances down at the plate in front of him, as he spreads jam over his toast.
“I’m making toast.” He lifts his eyes up to meet yours, and there’s a playful twinkle in their depths. Your mouth parts. You don’t know how to respond. Of course you knew he was capable of being charming and funny, you had seen him play with your cousins, nephews, and nieces.
But he had always seemed so reserved around you. Your conversations had been limited to small talk, that you had replayed over in your mind for hours afterwards, chastising yourself for being so painfully shy.
Aleksander seems to take pity on you, and fills the silence with a more genuine answer.
“Your father and I were working on some contracts, late into the night, and he offered me the guest room. What time did you arrive?”
“Just after midnight.”
His brows crinkle, then he nods,
“I must have just missed you.” You fiddle with your spoon, spinning the pieces of cereal around in the bowl.
You don’t know how you would have reacted meeting Aleksander on the landing as you made your way to your room last night. Perhaps you would have slept better knowing he was in the house. Maybe you would have slept worse.
You throw a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, trying to think of something to say once you’ve finished munching.
“Did you finish the contracts?” He nods before he glances at the clock.
“I’ll be going in to submit them soon.”
“Today?” He nods again, slowly this time. “But it’s a Saturday.” He laughs softly, and you almost melt into a puddle on the floor.
“It won’t be for long milaya. I’ll back before you know it.”
“You’ll be back?”
“Your mother invited me to dinner.”
Oh fantastic.
Aleksander finishes his breakfast quicker than you, mostly because you spend more time playing with your food than eating it. You usually don’t eat much for breakfast, but in your nervousness you’d poured a ridiculously large bowl for yourself.
You hear the floorboards creak as he makes his way upstairs, and hear the guest room door swing open. There’s small rustling sounds, then he walks across the landing and into the bathroom. The door shuts, and you hear the lock click behind him. It’s only once you hear the shower water running that you breath a sigh of relief, and feel free to move around your own house.
He’s fully dressed when he emerges from the bathroom. A crisp white shirt which clings to his body in all the right places, dark formal pants and grey socks. Dark hair slicked back, but not too much, so you can still dream about ruffling it with your fingers. He’s the picture of perfection.
You suddenly feel very silly standing outside in the hallway wearing your pyjamas, with a bundle of clothes and a towel tucked against your chest. He acknowledges you with a nod and a small smile as he passes you in the hallway, before assuring you that he no longer needs the bathroom.
The entire room smells like Aleksander. You had noticed the small toiletries bag nestled under his arm, but you had assumed it just had simple necessities like his toothbrush and toothpaste.
Not his shower gel, or shampoo. The room is still warm from his shower, and you want to bask in the warmth of Aleksander’s scent. You wonder if this is what his bathroom smells like. Then you shove those thoughts away violently.
You don’t care what Aleksander’s bathroom smells like.
You don’t.
»»---------------------►
Aleksander was right, he was back before you knew it.
The weather isn’t as hot as the day of the barbecue, but the shorts and tank top you’re wearing today seemed appropriate. But as your youngest nephew tugs on the front of your top you realise your mistake. Luckily Aleksander scoops the boy up, rescuing you from disaster.
You smile gratefully at him, pretending not to notice how his eyes flicker down as you adjust the straps of your tank top.
“Thank you.” You say quietly.
“You’re welcome.” Then he turns to the child in his arms. “Now young man, we don’t take a lady’s clothes off without her permission. Isn’t that right milaya?” Your cheeks burn and you can’t respond, then you manage to fumble out a small nod.
“Very right.”
You keep yourself busy for the rest of the day, and away from Aleksander. But he seems impossible to escape.
When your mom tells you that the family is going out for dinner, and that Aleksander is invited, you breathe a sigh of relief. At least there’s no chance of you being left alone with Aleksander. So, you dress up nicely and wait by your car.
Because he’s a perfect gentleman, Aleksander helps your sister get her kids into your car, and gives you a small smile before he joins your parents in their car. Your heart is still pounding as you pull out outside the restaurant.
“Reservation under Morozov?” You say to the waiter, and he nods immediately and guides you over to a table. Everyone else is already seated. Meaning there’s only a few chairs left, namely one in front of Aleksander, and one next to Aleksander. You hesitate. Which one will be easiest for you to function at?
The decision is taken from you as your sister sits down in front of Aleksander. Meaning you take the seat beside him. He smiles at you as you sit, and warmth tingles through your body.
He spends the entire evening being ridiculously charming, and ridiculously attractive, and ridiculously funny. Aleksander doesn’t seem like a man with a sense of humour, but he’s often so quick witted it startles you. You find yourself laughing far too much at his jabs and remarks.
So, by the time you return home, you’re incredibly annoyed with him. And yourself. But mostly him. How dare he be so attractive and unattainable?
All you want to do is get into bed and escape this entire day. You hope that Aleksander will be driving home tonight, but you doubt it.
Then your parents ask you to join them for a drink in the living room, and you can’t refuse them. Aleksander sits in the armchair usually frequented by you. The armchair that you used to curl up on and read until your parents forced you to go to sleep.
The evening light casts a glow around him, and you swallow a large amount of wine in an attempt to stop thinking about him. You’re unsuccessful. As your parents and sister talk amongst themselves, all you can think about is Aleksander.
Your sister is the first one to leave, with her small gaggle of children you all know she needs the rest. Then your parents head up to bed. Leaving you alone with Aleksander.
Neither of you talk. He simply watches you, and you continue to drink as a means to distract yourself from the fact that he’s watching you. It’s only as you’re reaching for the rest of the bottle that he speaks, leaning forward to rest his hand over yours.
“I think you’ve had enough tonight milaya.”
“Oh you do?” He raises a brow at your tone, and heat pools between your legs.
You wonder what would happen if he let you continue drinking. Whether it would give you confidence to finally sit in his lap and kiss him senseless. Or better yet, to kneel at his feet, undo his trousers, and pull out his co-
“Fuck!” You hiss quietly, pressing your hand against your face as you realise where your thoughts had been going. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you nod enthusiastically as you agree with him. “I’ve had enough.”
“Would you like me to help you upstairs?” You nod, your eyes still closed in a dizzying mixture of shame and arousal.
“Please.”
His hand is on the small of your back as the two of you head upstairs, and you can feel his eyes on you. The warmth of his palm soaks through your dress, and you wish you could feel his hands all over you. You stumble slightly as you reach the door to your bedroom, and Aleksander catches you. His body presses yours against the doorframe, your chest flush with his. His eyes flicker down to your lips.
For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and your mind is filled with thoughts of him driving the air from your lungs with a searing kiss. Of him driving you hard against the wall, then carrying you to your bed to fuck you.
Aleksander takes your chin between his fingers, looking deep into your eyes. Anticipation claws at your skin, you need him so badly it hurts. He leans in and your eyes close, eager for him take.
Then he turns his head, and presses his lips to your cheek. The ghost of a kiss that makes you whimper. He closes his eyes, as if he’s memorising the sound. Or steeling himself to resist it. You don’t know which is worse.
“Sleep well milaya.”
He steps away, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. You stare at him with wide eyes.
He’s quiet as he withdraws himself from your space, and turns away quickly. You’re filled with the sudden need to make him ache. The same way he makes you ache. Your voice is soft, but you know it carries its way down the hallway to his ears.
“Goodnight Uncle Sasha.”
He stops still. He turns, but you’ve already slipped into your bedroom and the door is shut.
»»---------------------►