dust and bones.

Alexander Barrett. 31. Armed to the teeth. "If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." — Friedrich Nietzsche //

[alexanderxxbarrett]

Alexander & Tatiana || Domesticated

[alexanderxxbarrett]

tanechkax:

Privately, and very obediently, Tatiana committed the thought of this shepard’s pie to memory so that she could find a recipe as soon as possible and surprise Alexander with her homemade rendition of his favorite dish. Food was something that was so important to her; for Tatiana, you fed the people you loved, and she loved Alexander more than she could find the words to express out loud. More than blinchki, more than mini muffins, more than Russia itself…there was absolutely nothing that she wouldn’t do for her Shura bear, and she was constantly trying to think of new ways to please and surprise him, whether it was by doting on him endlessly as his submissive little pet or taking his cock and his cum like the eager whore she was, Tatiana truly and happily believed that tending to her big man’s needs was her full-time job. And this was so nice, sharing such a special part of her past with him in the middle of the night when everyone else in the estate was asleep, and she almost couldn’t bear the thought of going upstairs to bed and waking up in the morning with the moment gone. She wanted to cherish this - she wanted to cherish him. 

Not that their time together would ever run out, of course - this was her home, and she belonged to him. 

Tatiana had just managed to whip the cream into stiff, fluffy peaks, making a mess all the while, when very slyly, Alex was slipping one of his big, strong hands into the bag of flour, and deftly flicking some of it at her face. Instantly, Tatiana squeaked in shock, her eyes widening owlishly as the powdery white baking substance spread itself all across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheeks. “O - oh, big man!” she sputtered indignantly, shaking her head from side to side in a ridiculous attempt to dust off the excess flour; all she succeeded in doing was getting it all in her bouncy blonde curls as well. For a moment she pouted, an endearingly-unkempt puppy of a seventeen year old girl, but when she looked up at Alexander finally, and saw the flour smeared into his dark, full beard, she couldn’t help but giggle before very quickly developing a plot for revenge. She had always been playful and mischievous at heart, and it showed on her sweet, heart-shaped face that shone with all the unguarded responsiveness of a child. And now, she would come forth with payback.

 “Ooooh - Shura bear not being know what come for him!” With a delighted little laugh, Tatiana wasted no time in climbing up onto the counter-top (using her little ladybug stool that Ronan and Declan had gifted her with for leverage), and in nothing but the over-sized shirt of Alex’s that she had borrowed after their earlier romp, she clambered over towards the edge of the marble counter where he was seated, scooting her pert little ass forward and - well - tossing her creamy, bare legs up and over his shoulders so that he was securely trapped. With her knees balanced on either side of his head and her backside rather unsteadily perched on the counter, she squeaked once more as she reached for the whisk that she had been using to whip the cream, and once she had finally grasped it - painted-pink toes wiggling with excitement all the while - she let out a triumphant little cry as she settled into her precarious position once more. Almost all of her was on display at this point; her stolen shirt had ridden up entirely to expose the lacy crotch of her panties, and just barely hidden behind that was her soft, small, pink pussy.

“Tatia being think is daddy’s turn to being nice and creamy.,” she giggled mischievously, and without further ado, she flung the whisk towards Alex, so that all of the remnants of whipped cream that had been clinging to it splattered all over his face and even onto his chest. The sight of her big strong man covered in freshly-prepared dessert topping was enough to have Tatiana squealing with childlike joy, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward and…rubbing the whisk into his hair, just so that she could make a mess out of his thick curls. “Da, da - Shura being look like pushistyy zefir! Fluffy marshmallow man!” she laughed helplessly, then, dissolving into a fit of giggles as she squirmed with her knees still bent over his shoulders, flushed with delight and half-naked. She let the whisk fall to the floor with a small clang, and brought one of her sticky fingers to her lips so that she could suckle the cream off of it, blue eyes bright with mischief as she looked up at Alex with a challenging, playful expression on her innocently beautiful face. Oh, this was fun.

Later--much later, in a darkened room lit only by the moonlight and smothered with his own shadows and demons--Alexander would sit hunched over a stuffed rabbit he’d gifted Tatiana as a recompense for the flour fight they shared in the kitchen. He would clutch the fluffy bit of cloth and cotton between his hands, the material of the plush toy as delicate and soft as she had been, and would wonder where he had gone wrong; wonder what he had done to God to deserve his light being ripped from him. Much later, hollowed out and fueled by rage, Alexander Barrett would replay every single painstaking detail of the time he spent with Tatiana Valentina, and would find dark irony in the way they both thought their time together would stretch on infinitesimally. He would think of his princess having the crown ripped from her head and stuffed back into the old dressings of her former life.

He would think of that night, in the kitchen, when he had felt infinite and his love for her had nearly capsized him. He should have known, deep in his core, that happiness was a fleeting and privileged emotion he had possessed only the briefest inklings of during his life.

But he couldn’t know any of that. Not presently, with Tatiana agape at the audacity Alexander possessed, and the latter struggling not to bust out laughing at the sight of his little Russian doll covered in flour. He watched as she scrambled up onto the counter, clearly indignant at her “big man” (as she so frequently and fondly called him) for getting the upper hand and the best of her. He could hardly contain himself as Tatiana stood on the counter in all of her short, less than five foot glory, and even though he knew she was about to rain her own set of fresh hell all over him, he didn’t bother to move an inch.

After all, she was so fucking tiny he could practically grab her in one hand.

And that’s when she all but launched herself at Alexander, wrapping her legs around him and getting a good grip on him as she reached for something behind her (the whisk? A spoon? He didn’t have a fucking clue). Reaching up with calloused hands, Alex gripped Tatiana’s shapely thighs, twisting around to try to escape her wrath and ire as she cheekily bragged about having the upper hand and flinging the excess batter into his hair. Oh, he would definitely need another shower before the night was out. With a roar of surprise and light-hearted frustration at being overwhelmed by the pixie currently latched onto him like a fucking koala, Alex lifted up a hand to grasp for her wild curls and tugged lightly to distract her from her efforts to sabotage him. Little sneak that she was.

“Call me a fluffy marshmallow man again and I won’t lick your pussy for a week,” Alexander commented as Tatiana licked the remaining sweets off her fingers. He untangled her from his grasp and set her on the counter top, smoothing out her hair and positioning himself between her legs. She looked so innocent and almost child-like, even covered in all the food she’d just been preparing, and as Alex smoothed down her clothes, he used his free hand to slyly reach behind him for the powdered sugar cannister. As he pretended to lift his hand to brush against her cheek, Alex upended the cannister and sprinkled powdered sugar all over her hair. Setting the contents of the box down and bending down, howling with laughter, Alex wished to commit the image of her covered in powder to his memory forever. Standing straight with a completely shit-eating grin, he flicked a small puff of powdered sugar off one of her curls, winking cheekily and kissing her on the lips.

“Now you look like a powdered donut--I wouldn’t mind taking a bite, actually.”

[vikktorvalentina]

Dawn of War || Viktor & Alex

[alexanderxxbarrett]

vikktorvalentina:

@alexanderxxbarrett

Viktor was torn between a slow-boiling rage and an acute case of nausea, and he couldn’t quite decide which of the two was worse. He sat alone in the VIP lounge of the Crow’s Nest, resisting the urge to start fiddling with his cufflinks as a means to relieve some of his nervous tension. Celine was outside of the room as additional security, all toothy grins and the ever-present feeling of bloodlust surrounding her. It was a neutral venue, to be sure, but for a man of his status to go without security would have been nothing short of foolish. Not to mention the presence of a fellow Russian at least provided him with some level of reassurance that things would not escalate beyond what formalities required.

God, Viktor hated formalities.

None of this would have been necessary if it hadn’t been for the actions of the Irish mob and their clown prince of the Bronx, Alexander Barrett. Viktor considered himself to be relatively forgiving, as far as mafia dons went. However, this wasn’t a petty issue involving territorial skirmishes or misplaced shipments; this was personal. His life had been a unique kind of hell the past several years, beginning with Tatia’s disappearance shortly followed by the death of his father, and he had no patience left to give. What had been particularly worse about the whole affair, beyond his discovery that the Irish had taken his dear sister hostage, was that the Irish bastard about to walk through that door had violated her. Kept her as a pet for his own sick pleasure when he had every opportunity in the world to return her. It was one thing to mock him for his inexperience or his soft-spoken nature, but it was another entirely when family was involved. Especially when it came to Tatiana, the last person he had ever wanted to get involved in this rotted underbelly of New York.

It hadn’t been that long since Tatia had been returned to him, thanks to the efforts of his most efficient officers. But Viktor hadn’t seen Barrett since that day, which would likely make this meeting particularly acrimonious. Given this understanding, his objectives were clear: provide a chance for Barrett to explain himself fully and arrange the appropriate declaration in the event that he refused to comply. Assuming that he could meet these objectives quickly, they could make this exchange relatively painless and Viktor could avoid Barrett’s attempts to get under his skin. The thought calmed him, bringing the mafia don to a standstill as he watched the door with great intent. The sooner this was over, the better.

The sound of footsteps reached the Russian’s ears and he nearly scowled, blood turning to ice at the sight of a familiar face entering into the room. “And here I was thinking that you wouldn’t be able to join me tonight. How unfortunate I am to have been proven wrong.“ Viktor said in a clipped tone, drawing himself up into the same intimidating posture that his father had always taken when addressing disliked associates. “I take it you’ve been well since our last…meeting?“

When they weren’t busy reeking of their naturally insufferable odor and downing gallons of vodka and cabbage, the Russians appeared to use the rest of their energy and efforts in tormenting, aggravating, and just plain fucking annoying Alexander and his crew. Stereotyping the Russian Americans though he might, Alexander’s blind hatred of the rival gang was strong enough to wash away any rationalization or reason his thoughts might otherwise harbor. Their latest offense, of course, lied in their ridiculous, incompetent excuse for a leader: Viktor Valentina, and his possession of stolen goods. Tatiana had been Alexander’s for the taking--fair game, really, considering she’d been used to pay off another’s debt--and Viktor believed he still owned her? That she belonged to him? No, no...she was Alexander’s now. Had been since the moment they’d met.

And he would tear his way through hell and back to take back what was rightfully his. No matter how many he had to kill, maim, or dispose of in the process.

As nauseated as the thought made him, Alexander was choosing to step into uncontested neutral territory for the sake of talking with the Russian leader--their formidable (what a fucking joke) and “fearless” ruler, don Valentina. But it was all for the sake of Tatiana; for finding out more about her whereabouts so he and/or his men could hone in on how to bring the newly-elected Irish princess home safe and sound--and a whole lot fucking sooner.

Jutting his chin forward and buttoning one of the slits on the front of his suit jacket, Alexander held his head high and refrained (with all his might, mind you) from spitting on Celine Dahl, the spider for the Russians with a crooked smile and glittering, bloodthirsty eyes. She was a formidable assassin and a true asset for the Russians, as loathe as Alexander was to admit it, but she was far too...slippery for his own taste. Ronan and Declan, flanking Alexander and bearing weapons of their own, shared displeased glances with one another at the sight of Celine just before Alex slipped into the room behind, where Viktor lay waiting. Let his bodyguards play with Valentina’s pet wolf...he had larger prey to attend to.

“Of course I was bound to show up,” Alexander said, distaste lacing his voice. Very casually, he stretched out in the chair that awaited him, ignoring Viktor’s attempts to stand and appear imposing as Alex fiddled with smoothing out the cuffs of his shirt. 

“You stole my bitch.” He lifted his gaze up to Viktor’s, locking eyes with the man and fantasizing about the different techniques he’d use to dismember the fumbling giant. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to take what wasn’t yours? Or did she die before that little life lesson?”

[alexanderxxbarrett]

theycallhimraymond:

Flanagan’s erupted when Raymond walked in. The Irish were certainly known for getting loud, and when their token Scot stepped into a room, it was if he’d been born and bred one of their own – his voice boomed over the milling crowd of drinkers. There was a mixture of friendly shouts and playful jeers, all directed at the giant of a man as he grinned like a jackal. A mob had certainly been the right place for him – where else could he get shit faced drunk, brawl a few people, and still wake up with friends in the morning?

It was heaven on earth, and definitely the right way to satisfy his need to get his hands bloody.

“We’ll grab a few later, aye?” Ray shouted at several of his drinking buddies – giving them a good, somewhat bruising slap on the back – as he pushed his way through the crowd towards the stairs. His gaze swept upwards, spotting Declan – in a moment, he’d practically taken the stairs two at a time and was sliding into their regular booth beside his boss. “Didn’t order for me? Fuck, that’s not very nice, boss. Thought you loved me more.” 

Perhaps Raymond’s most notable attribute was his height and general girth; maybe, even, it was his long, thick hair that stood out like a sore thumb. But what Alexander (privately) believed to be more accurate was this: Raymond Holloway was quick to spot and easy to recognize because he was loud, boisterous, and in your fucking face. Perhaps not the most valuable qualities when it came to snooping and sleuthing that the job required, but that wasn’t why he’d picked Raymond as his second in the first place.

No, rather, it was the man’s tenacity and loyalty. Even when he was late by Alex’s agenda.

“By all means, Raymond, take your time acquainting yourself with everyone in the fucking room,” Alex commented coolly, taking a sip from his drink. He arched a brow at Ray’s comment, licking the froth from his mug off his lips before deigning to reply. “If you had shown up before I did, you would’ve already had your order by now, wouldn’t you?”

[quoted-books]

‘I’d know you in the dark,” he said. ‘From a thousand miles away. There’s nothing you could become that I haven’t already fallen in love with’

Rainbow Rowell, Attachments  (via quoted-books)

[alexanderxxbarrett]

Alexander & Tatiana || Domesticated

[alexanderxxbarrett]

tanechkax:

For Tatiana, this was bliss. All she ever wanted was time to spend with her big man, and the fact that she was currently being given it in spades meant that she was quite the happy little bunny. Having been whisked away from the only home she had ever known and losing all contact with the only family she had left, Alex was all she had, and Tatiana didn’t view him as her captor, or anything of the sort at all; no, he was her hero, and she truly believed that she wouldn’t be able to live without him. She loved pleasing him, and doting on him, and doing absolutely everything she could to earn his approval, and right now was no different; making fresh blinchki for him after spending an hour upstairs in bed taking his cock and his cum was nothing short of a perfect evening for the young girl. And…he was talking to her, too - Alex very rarely opened up to her about anything, and so Tatiana couldn’t help but listen eagerly and attentively as he spoke to her about his mother, a soft, glowing smile lighting up her heart-shaped face when he shared something so special with her. It might not have been much, especially considering how intimate they were with one another on a regular basis, but for a man like Alex - a man who shrouded himself in secrecy and kept the rest of the world at arms length - it was a miracle. Just the thought of him as a small child, picking out the raisins from his mother’s homemade bread and tossing them in his mouth to savor their rich sweetness, made Tatiana feel as if her heart was going to swell and burst; she loved Alex so much, and she wanted to know everything about him…even if it was something as trivial as his favorite foods.

Though - to be fair, food was rarely ever trivial to Tatiana.

“Shepards pie?” she cocked her head to the side curiously as she went about cracking one egg, and then another, into the creamy batter that she was preparing, before reaching for her whisk (the pretty pink one that she had asked for as a present) and stirring everything together thoroughly. “Tatia never being have that before, she not think - is good? Is, erm - how you say - like kulebyaka?” she asked in reference to yet another one of her favorite childhood meals, a savory pie composed of flaky pastry wrapped around chicken, rice, and vegetables, and once she deemed that her batter was ready to go, she set it aside so that it could rest while she started to work on the whipped cream filling. “Maybe Tatia finding recipe for it so she can making it for Shura bear! And - soda bread, too! Tatia much good at baking bread,” she said with a shy little smile as she reached for another bowl; it was true that, while there might not have been too many tasks that she was skilled at, she was quite the little expert when it came to all things baking.

Once again without measuring, she poured in about half a carton of heavy cream into her mixing bowl, quickly followed by a few handfuls of sugar - more, to compensate for how tiny her palms were - before reaching for another whisk so that she could do even more mixing. “This going get little bit messy, daddy,” she said with a sheepish little smile as she looked up at Alex; the only way she had ever known how to whip cream was by hand, and while it was a of effort - especially given how petite and dainty she was - it was what her big man wanted, and she would never, ever disobey him. Drawing in a deep breath to prepare herself, she held the bottom of the bowl with one hand and used the other to grip onto the whisk and dip it into the cream and sugar, and began to furiously whip it all together.

“Eep!” she squeaked as droplets of cream splattered out of the bowl, getting on both herself and the counter, and she let out a breathy laugh as she continued to whisk nevertheless, not at all deterred. “Da, da - Tatia being wish she having muscles like Shura so not being take as long!”

Being with Tatiana had taken Alexander for quite the unexpected turn. What had started out as bribery and the upper hand in a relationship with the Russians had turned into so much more. She was only ever meant to be a toy and a pawn in Alexander’s never ending mind games. She was never supposed to mean anything on an emotional level; just a fuck and a grand “fuck you” to her brother and the entirety of the Russian mafia. And Alex tried (in vain, mind you) to continue to tell himself that that’s all she remained to him; a good lay, an eager pet, and nothing more. Words were easier when one didn’t have to worry about bearing weight with them, however; every time he reminded himself of his supposed lack of emotional attachment to the tiny blonde scampering around his kitchen like an energized bunny rabbit, he felt his heart thud painfully in contradiction.

He cared. Bottom line. And it was turning out to be a lot stickier and more trouble than it was worth, honestly. How in the fuck did people regularly live and deal with so many emotions inside of them at any given time? It was disgusting.

“Shepherd’s pie is probably a lot different than anything you’re used to,” Alexander commented disdainfully, wrinkling his nose in displeasure at the thought of the cabbage stew or whatever the fuck it was Russians ate with their food. Did they just pour vodka directly into everything they consumed and ate whatever vegetables grew directly out of the ground, or was there a method to their madness? Not that, technically speaking, Alex had much room to talk; the Irish were known for incorporating potatoes and meat into almost every dish...

But it was different.

“Imagine all of your favorite entrees mixed together, and that’s what a good shepherd’s pie can do for you,” Alex tried to explain, oddly mesmerized by the way Tatiana baked. It was hypnotizing, the way she somehow just knew how much to put in and when. She reminded him of his mother, in that sense; Genevieve Barrett had been a natural cook herself, never needing a recipe or cookbook to guide her along on both her most classic and innovative homemade meals. It made him miss his mother with a deep, longing ache in the pit of his stomach; a yearning that had been muted for years now. Tatiana did that unfailingly, much to Alexander’s chagrin; brought out the memories and emotions that he preferred to keep tucked away in an iron lock box for safe keeping. She forced him to confront memories that were long since dormant in the back of his mind, and the worst part was...she didn’t even realize the effect she had on his thoughts and feelings. She had no idea the power she held over him.

“A little messy is just how I like it--and you, for that matter,” came Alexander’s cheeky reply, followed by a laugh as the cream Tatiana was whipping up for the blinchkis splattered all over the counter and herself. She seemed shocked and beside herself by the mess she’d created, so Alexander--finding the expression on her face to be priceless, honestly--stuck his hand in the bag of flour and withdrew a small handful.

“Your lack of muscles aren’t the problem here; I think your aim is. Speaking of which...I think you missed a spot, Tania,” Alex said wryly, a small smirk slipping across his face as, with deft fingers, he flicked his wrist and threw the powder into her face before leaning back on his bar stool and roaring with laughter, wiping his face with his hand and smearing flour all over his beard in the process.

[alexanderxxbarrett]

― @theycallhimraymond

Flanagan’s was crowded today, as per usual for the quaint and homey pub-turned-eatery frequented by the Irish mafia, but Alexander was well hidden and protected in a secluded booth on the second story of the institution. He’d ordered himself a pint of Guinness (on tap, of course) and an order of potato skins while he waited for his second to arrive. They had a whole hell of a lot to discuss, and Alex wanted to be sure Ray was on the same page as him.

“When Raymond comes in,” he signaled to Declan, who was standing charge nearby and observing the people milling in and out of the restaurant. “Make sure to bring him to me.”

[alexanderxxbarrett]

Alexander & Tatiana || Domesticated

[alexanderxxbarrett]

tanechkax:

a flashback thread — @tanechkax

Although Tatiana very, very obviously enjoyed every single ounce of time she was allotted to spend with Alexander, it was moments like these, as few and far between as they were, that she treasured just as much as she did their romps between the sheets. Alex was an incredibly busy man, after all, and while Tatiana would very eagerly and obediently make herself readily available to him at the drop of a hat, there was something so special about being given an entire evening with him like this. Not only had he taken his time with her upstairs in his bedroom, but now he was allowing her to prepare a meal for him, something that Tatiana looked forward to just as much as when he was ordering her to her knees so that she could worship his cock. She wanted to be such a good girl for him; after all, he was her savior, wasn’t he? He had rescued her from the man who had kidnapped her so cruelly, and he had given her not just a home, but a heart to love and treasure and hold as her own - how could she ever repay him for that?

She couldn’t help but giggle when he commented about giving her some cream that she would remember; even now she could still feel him between her thighs, the imprint he had left on her making itself known in the warm, full happiness of her tummy and the bruises beginning to develop on her delicate hips. She wiggled her ass playfully from side to side as she tottered on top of the stool she had brought over for herself, only to be rewarded with a teasing little smack to one of the pert cheeks as Alex came up from behind her, clearly intent on providing her with assistance despite the fact that she had insisted it wasn’t needed. “Oh - eep! Shura bear!” she protested breathlessly, but he moved her out of the way easily, effortlessly, and without any trouble whatsoever brought down the flour and sugar that she had been reaching for so fruitlessly. “Big man being tall like tree,” she sighed, and when she turned to look over her shoulder at him so that she could stick out her tongue, she instead flushed with rosy heat when Alex tweaked at her little button nose and reassured her that, despite her tiny size, she was still very good at one thing: taking his cock however he liked.

“Do you know who else is being like leprechaun?” she began in her cheery, sing-song voice as she scampered down from her high-up perch, the bell on her collar still tinkling happily as she made her way over to the fridge. “Mister Owen! He being all freckles and friendliness and festivity, just like little green man on box of marshmallow cereal that Tatiana liking so much!” With a little giggle, she brought out both the milk and the cream from the fridge, as well as a bushel of fresh strawberries; her master had requested blinchki with whipped cream and preserves, and she would make for him just that. “Okay, okay - Tatia being get to work, da? And honey bear papa just sitting down relaxing!” she insisted with a chirping little peep of a sound, before bending at the waist to find a couple of bowls as well as the stand mixer, humming sweetly beneath her breath as she unconsciously wiggled and squirmed her pert ass from side to side, the supple curve of it that was still red from all of her owner’s spankings just barely hidden by her silky pajama shorts. 

“Tatia mama used to being make these every Sunday morning for baby Tatia and big brother Viktor,” she continued on with a wistful little smile as she went about heaping flour and sugar into her first bowl; she didn’t need to measure at all, not when the quantities were all but etched permanently into her mind. Cooking came naturally to Tatiana, especially when it was for someone she loved. “And I used to being cover mine in berry syrup, even when mama had already put so much, and then Tatia bouncing off of walls for entire day! And big brother even having climb up cherry tree one time to rescue me when cannot being get down,” she giggled, eyeballing the milk as she poured it into her flour mixture, a delighted little coo slipping past her rosy lips as the batter began to form. “Does Shura being have any recipes he liking as little baby?”

It was almost as if he could only show her affection under the light of the moon and in-between the shadows that spread across his sprawling estate. There was something decidedly intimate about sharing a meal with someone else, especially post-coitus, and Alexander tried not to put too much stock or thought into what was transpiring between himself and his little Russian doll, but it was damn near next to impossible. When Alex had first bartered for Tatiana and taken her in, he thought he’d stumbled upon a prize jewel he could use to flaunt and tease the Russians with...so when in the hell had it grown to mean so much more than that? This was no longer a simple scam or scheme to get Viktor Valentina to bend to Alexander’s will; it was so much more than that. She was so much more than that. A year ago, his only incentive to protect her would have been at the cost of what her value and worth was to his organization.

Now, though? Now, Alex was growing eerily certain he’d take a bullet for the tiny blonde without a second thought--and it wouldn’t be for the reasons he’d reasoned with so many months before.

This was getting complicated. Far too complicated.

“Tall like a tree--I think I can live with that comparison,” Alex mused thoughtfully, more to himself than to Tatiana, as he moved to stand behind her and her mountain of ingredients. They would surely make the kitchen a mess, and she would likely insist on cleaning it for him, but he had a staff who could do that for them both. Because as soon as they finished eating, he was going to spread her out on the kitchen counter like a buffet and eat her pussy like a four course meal. For now, though, he was strangely content to stand behind her, peering over her shoulder as she gathered together the ingredients and chattered aimlessly about one of Alex’s lower-ranking mob members; a quirky gentleman by the name of Owen Cavendish. Truthfully, Alexander hadn’t given much thought to what Owen resembled, and couldn’t help himself from rolling his eyes at the idea of Cavendish resembling the fucking leprechaun from the Lucky Charms cereal box. Of all the stereotypes...

Reluctantly, and with a quick kiss to her neck, Alex took up his spot across the counter from her, perched on a bar stool as Tatiana went about gathering bowls and cutlery for her baking process. Watching her in the kitchen was mesmerizing, and if Alex had all the time available in the world to him, he might be tempted to spend a good deal of it just watching Tatiana enter what he liked to refer to as “The Baking Zone”. She was a different person when she was cooking, like a butterfly erupting from its cocoon, and it was both fascinating and strangely heartwarming to watch. She seemed...happy. He blinked rapidly, startled out of his reverie, as Tatiana told him of the treats and sweets of her childhood; he didn’t know what to say in response, but then, he never did when Tatiana spoke of her past so fondly. What must it be like, feeling nostalgia and contentment so openly? Wearing your emotions on your sleeves, not caring they were vulnerable and achingly exposed to the world? Alex’s mouth grew bitter with the heart and his heart hammered a staccato as she turned the conversation towards him once more...as she inevitably always did.

His past. She always wanted to know about his past, whereas he liked to take his memories and tuck them away in a box in the core of his soul for safekeeping. 

“My mom would always make soda bread for Christmas,” Alexander commented thoughtfully, tracing lines in the counter top with his fingers. “I always asked for extra raisins in mine because I liked how sweet and moist it made the bread. And when I was sick, she’d make me her famous shepherd’s pie, unlike anything America’s ever seen. You can’t beat it, can you? Food that reminds you of...home.”

[alexanderxxbarrett]

Alexander & Tatiana || Domesticated

[alexanderxxbarrett]

tanechkax:

a flashback thread — @tanechkax

There was no feasible reason for Tatiana Valentina to be as happy as she was - after all, it had been almost a year since she had been forcibly kidnapped and stolen away from her home, and she had yet to be reunited with any vestiges of her family since then. Not only that, but she had been sold into sex slavery in the process, only to be shipped off as a commodity to settle her trafficker’s debt with the Irish mob, and it was through that exchange that she was taken to where she was now: the lavish estate belonging to none other than the Bronx Prince. Although she had been terrified beyond measure at first, especially given everything that she had gone through at the hands of her former captor, Tatiana had quickly found a home in the arms - and bed - of her new owner…Alexander Barrett had wasted no time in claiming her as his sweet and dutiful little pet, and Tatiana, as young and lost as she had been, hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling helplessly in love with him in the process. To her, he wasn’t her kidnapper, or a man holding her hostage - no, he was her Shura, her daddy, her honey bear whose initials were carved into the back of the custom-made collar around her delicate neck and might as well have been carved into her skin. 

As far as Tatiana was concerned, Alex was the sun, and she would die without him. 

Having spent the entire evening rolling around in bed with the much-older mob boss, it was past midnight when they finally reappeared from the master bedroom in favor of making their way downstairs into the kitchen. Tatiana was freshly-showered and squeaky clean, wearing her favorite pair of skimpy, silky pink pajamas and her bell collar to match, the latter of the two tinkling happily as she followed after Alex like an excited, eager little pup ready to play and take orders. It was agreed between the two of them that they were both starving - and how could they not be, honestly, after he had fucked her so thoroughly - and Tatiana wanted more than anything to prepare for him a midnight snack. It wasn’t often that she was able to spend time with Alex outside of his bedroom, and she was practically trembling as a result; all she wanted was to be a good girl for him, all she wanted was to be near him.

She waited patiently as her disgruntled big man rummaged through the cupboards in search of something already prepared for them to eat, her little baby hands clasped together excitedly in front of her tiny frame as she just barely resisted the urge to burst out with everything that she wanted to cook for him. There was nothing like a homemade meal, after all, and Tatiana didn’t like the idea of him eating something processed, or something out of a box…not when he deserved the very best, and definitely not when she was around. “Oh - blinchki! Shura bear being want Tatia blinchki!” Clapping her hands together happily, Tatiana’s sweet, heart-shaped face flushed with pleasure at the thought of one of her favorite childhood foods - light, delicate crepes filled with jam and cream that her mama had made so often for her and Viktor growing up. Thinking back on her elder brother - and her poor mama - caused Tatiana’s heart to clench with the same deep, aching pain that she felt whenever her former home was brought to mind, but she did her best to chase it away as soon as it came…her master was hungry, after all, and it was up to her to provide for him like the obedient House-Tatia she was.

“Tatia can being make those for you no problem, Shura! Here…you being sit down, okay? Shh, shhh, relax!” Hopping excitedly like the cheerful little bunny she was, she took hold of Alex’s big, calloused hands with one of her much smaller ones, and she led him over to one of the bar stools at the counter, urging him to remain seated as she doted on him so happily. “Tatia being much quick, okay? Just being need little bit flour, eggs, milk, jam, sugar, and - eep! Cream!” She let out a small squeak as she struggled to drag another chair over to the other side of the counter, and without even thinking to ask for help from her much-taller lover, she climbed up on top of it like a clambering koala bear, teetering unsteadily on her tiny feet as she reached high up towards the cupboard that held the flour. “Is - is all good, big man!”

Alexander wouldn’t say he had a best friend--not really, anyway. There was Raymond, his second-in-command and likely his closest confidant, but their relationship was decidedly unconventional, to say the least. And then there were Ronan and Declan, the trustworthy bodyguards who had served underneath and alongside Alexander for nearly as long as he’d been an extension of the Irish mafia. But with Tatiana--with her, everything was different. None of that sentimental bullshit poets wrote about, though; the sky didn’t glimmer with a brighter shade of blue, nor did the pollution and cacophony of sounds and aromas the city provided suddenly become sweet and intoxicating to him. Alexander was no fool; the world hadn’t changed simply because the people inside his own life had. But everywhere he went, he felt fire around him; the world was smoldering under the intensity of foreign feelings Alex hadn’t even realized himself capable of possessing, and if he were to be honest with himself...then he might admit how terrified that made him feel.

How terrified she made him feel, because she changed absolutely fucking everything about his life, whether or not he cared to admit it.

“Blinchki?” he responded, his tongue all but tripping over the strange conglomeration of letters. The Russian language was fucking weird. “Whatever they’re called, I like the ones you make with preserves and whipped cream. Strawberries or blueberries or whatever--just whatever we’ve got lyin’ around the place. Whaddya need for it?”

Alex was in the process of rummaging through the cupboards (particularly the ones too high for Tatiana to reach on her own) in search of some of the ingredients she’d likely need, but no sooner was he on the hunt for flour and sugar than the petite blonde was ushering him into a seat at the counter. Tatiana was very...particular about the amount of work Alexander was “allowed” to do whenever she was in the vicinity (i.e. none). It was as charming as it was baffling. Though Alexander was reluctant to admit it--even in the privacy of his own thoughts--he was surprised that Tatiana had grown to care for and look after him much like a lover would her husband. He was her brother’s mortal enemy, both by nature and design, but...none of that seemed to matter to her. She just--cared with the entirety of her heart, until her whole frame was vibrating with the need to please and satisfy those she cared for most.

She really was his little Russian doll, and Alexander’s heart clenched painfully every time he thought of the possibility of losing her. But she belonged to him now...and she always would. No one, not even her ridiculous fucking brother, could alter that.

“I could give you some cream worth remembering,” Alexander commented cheekily as Tatiana bustled to and fro in the kitchen, as excited and energetic as a bunny rabbit. The collar he’d gifted her with tinkled excitedly as she walked, and Alex had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and laughing at her easily excitable behavior. She seemed to be struggling to reach the ingredients on higher shelves (as he had predicted, naturally), and with a sigh Alexander stood, came behind her, smacked her rear playfully, and reached above her for the flour that was within his grasp but so, so far away from her own.

“You’re so damn short, like a little leprechaun or a pixie,” he said playfully, tweaking her nose and setting the bag of flour on the counter with some of the other aforementioned ingredients. “Just big enough to ride my cock, though, so I wouldn’t say your size is a total inconvenience.”

[alexanderxxbarrett]

Alexander & Tatiana || Domesticated

a flashback thread — @tanechkax

Personal time was a concept that was wholly unaccounted for in Alexander’s life; though he lived a wealthy and comfortably glamorous lifestyle, it was entangled within the intricacies and general mess of the mafia, making it next to impossible for the Bronx Prince to do much anything of note that was entirely unconnected to his life as a crime boss. When he went out, whether it be for a drink or dancing or a baseball game, he would get wrapped up in the politics of his job. And while working as the leading crime boss for the American-organized Irish mafia was something Alexander had fought and clawed tooth and nail to deserve, it was unsettling to realize that so much of his life was mandated by what he did and who he was.

Sometimes, it made him lose sight of who he was. And in the dark of the night, when he was his most pensive and vulnerable, he found himself wondering if his mother would have been disappointed in him for that behavior and mindset.

But...he couldn’t think of his mother these days. He refused to, unless it pertained to wreaking havoc and revenge on the bastards who had ruined her.

So. Personal time was off limits (to a degree, he supposed). But fucking around with his little pet--the Russian princess, as he often referred to her as in the privacy of the bedroom--was something he had handfuls of time for. Exploring every fucking inch of her body after an exhausting meeting or in-between dealing with impossible people who tried to refuse his most basic commands and requests became a passion of Alexander’s; something he relished in the quiet spaces between the nausea-inducing headaches that had become his life. She was his light in the dark, whatever that meant; the one thing to keep him steady and afloat in a world that threatened to crash over him at any given moment.

So, realistically speaking, it shouldn’t have been that weird that the two of them had snuck down to the kitchens after fooling around for the purpose of getting post-coital food. Right? Except, he’d never done that with a woman before...he’d never been this intimate with someone before.

But it was just food, right? It didn’t mean anything--it didn’t mean anything when he looked on her and his gaze lingered for a moment or two too long; it didn’t mean anything when he fucked her and thought that he could get used to the view of her for the rest of his life. None of it meant anything...right?

“I don’t think we have anything prepared,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself, as he rummaged through the cabinets. “You should make cake or muffins or--I don’t know, what are those fuckin’ crepe things you eat?”

[jamiedornansource]

jamie dornan photographed by cuneyt akeroglu

[mancandykings]

Jamie Dornan photographed by Williams & Hirakawa for Variety

[bwboysgallery-deactivated202007]

[alexanderxxbarrett]

ALEXANDER BARRETT

moodboard #001: introductions are in order

[alexanderxxbarrett]

heavy lies the crown. / a playlist for alexander barrett

1. POWER - Kanye West // 2. SEVEN DEVILS - Florence + the Machine // 3. EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD - Lorde // 4. BAD BLOOD - Taylor Swift ft. Kendrick Lamar // 5. CRAZY IN LOVE REMIX - Beyonce // 6. WINNER - Justin Timberlake // 7. GLORY AND GORE - Lorde // 8. HEATHENS - Twenty One Pilots // 9. PARTITION - Beyonce // 10. OFTEN - The Weeknd  // 11. YOUNG GOD - Halsey // 12. WAIT FOR IT - Leslie Odom, Jr.

(dracomalfoy on 8tracks)

[hoechlin]

Jamie Dornan photographed by Mert & Marcus for Interview Magazine

[alexanderxxbarrett]

— ❝ i’m a ship to wreck❞

In the heart of the Bronx, a boy was born to a starry-eyed single mother who wanted her son to be better than the world he’d entered into. 

Financial instability and strife reigned over young Alexander Barrett’s life; poverty and crushing responsibilities became the weight he was forced to bear. Never truly exposed to anything but life in the projects, Alex spent most of his younger childhood years roughing around with some of the neighborhood kids and dreaming of a day when they’d all make it in the big leagues; some of his friends aspired to excel in sports, while others prayed to God that they could keep their asses in school long enough to earn degrees and get solid jobs in the more middle-class areas of the Bronx or even, God willing, another one of New York City’s heavily-populated, compact boroughs. But Alexander, with a mother who was barely able to scrape up enough money to get by for the two of them in their closet of an apartment with two weekday jobs and an additional one on the weekend, knew that getting out of the city and onto making a decent income was less than realistic. And, despite the drastic decrease in crime in the Bronx over the course of the last few decades, the world continued to spit on the boy from the Bronx with a hardened heart and a battered soul. And so young Alexander, pessimistic about the world around him, stumbled into a life of crime and mischief from a young age. As soon as he was old enough to understand what poverty meant and how hard his mother–his beautiful, caring mother, Genevieve–worked to provide for him, Alexander decided to help her out as best as he could. When he was too young to get a job, he’d shoplift clothes from secondhand clothing shops and would tell her that some of the older boys at school had traded him for it in exchange for some help on their homework; he’d snatch food from local grocery stores and would scatter it throughout their kitchen, praying to God his mom didn’t catch on. And the minute he was old enough to legally obtain a job of his own, Alex started working for one of the local car garages. First as a mechanic’s assistant, and then, finally, helping out with the cars themselves. But still, his lust for power and security–for stealing what he believed was owed to him and his mother–grew with age, and by the time he was sixteen, Alex was eaten up with the urge to control the world around him. So he hung out with kids on the wrong side of the tracks; began to make a name for himself on the street. He made an effort not to terrorize people, but took what he thought he deserved. He was just, but stern; he was understanding, but not forgiving. And, most importantly, he’d caught the eye of some older boys who had graduated from high school already; boys who had an in with the Irish Mafia. And they…they wanted Alex for their own. Because while Alexander’s deadbeat, no-good father had deserted him and his mother the minute he found out Genevieve was pregnant, he had passed on his good Irish name (which Genevieve had promptly refused to give her son, gifting him with her English one instead), his quick temper, and–much to Alexander’s dismay–his thick head of brown curls to his only son. So without his mother knowing, Alexander plunged into a life of crime. He took up with lower members of the Irish mafia, working his way up the ladder and putting school–and his other responsibilities–on the backburner. He was raking in more cash than he ever had before, and even more so, he was making a name of himself. His mother was proud of him for all the wrong reasons; she thought her son had gained a promotion at work and was working long and tireless hours in the hopes of helping them and saving up for an education for himself. Alex, who still worshiped and adored his mother, couldn’t bear to break her heart by telling her the truth. For a long while, he told himself that things were best this way; that it was easiest and safest for Genevieve Barrett if she didn’t know who (or, more specifically, what) her only son had become. He lied, cheated, and gambled his way out of everything. He was a smooth talker, a charmer, ruthless, and ambitious as hell. He quickly surpassed in rank all of the friends he’d made in the mafia, proving that he was indispensable and invaluable to their organization. Genevieve began to notice a change in her son–one that worried her–but by the time she had decided to approach him about it, it was too late. Alexander was in too deep…and the thrill he got from working with the mafia was too large to even entertain the idea of quitting or walking away now. Besides, he knew too much; far too much.

With great power came great responsibility, Genevieve Barrett would have said, and the words ricocheted through Alexander’s skull like a restless bullet the day his mother died. A balmy spring evening, with promises whispering through the trees, rustling their branches and whistling through the busy city streets, Genevieve Barrett’s carpet became stained with the thick, syrupy taint of her blood. Her corpse was a message, her blood the price of a feud between the Irish and Italian mobs gone awry. Genevieve’s death was a message made for Alexander Barrett, the up and coming prodigy of Mob Boss Ronan Flanagan. And while her death should have cowed and evoked fear into Alexander’s heart, it served to fuel him with a rage unlike anything he had ever known before.

He would find them, the men who had taken his mother’s life from her, and he would kill them. He’d kill them all. Hellbent and on a path of cruelty and revenge, by the time Alexander had entered his mid-twenties (and been involved in the mafia for roughly a decade), he’d made quite a name of himself. The Mob Boss himself had taken a very special interest in the Barrett boy and, having no rightful heirs of himself, named Alexander the heir to his kingdom and fortune. And when the old man, Ronan Flanagan, passed away of old age shortly following Alexander’s twenty-sixth birthday, he became the head of the Bronx-organized Irish Mob. He took over with great ferocity, making sure that his mother and assets were protected. He ruled from his crime throne reasonably, he thought, making sure to never take unreasonable advantage of those he saw potential in. He’d created an empire for himself; had made a name out of “poor little bastard” Alexander Barrett. And he’d be damned if anyone ever forgets that. Currently, Alexander is following a lead on some of the men who might have been responsible for killing his mother. Infiltrating Arcadia Resort, Alexander plans on taking what he can out of the resort, with his business simmering deep in his abdomen. The Bronx Prince still maintains the crime within the Irish Mafia and keeps a tight hold on everything, but for now, Arcadia is certainly an...interesting task at hand. 

[buchananjames]

Jamie Dornan photographed by Tomo Brejc