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.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
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"Mummy"!Darkling x reincarnated Shu princess!Reader
The Ravkan General was an outsider in the Shu court but as the princesses manifested their powers, the late Emperor made a plan to use the Grisha to conquer the world.
Unfortunately, he couldn't live long enough to see his plan through but as his heir, you took over his work with your eternal lover by your side. Your Emperor.
Alina, your sister, detested what she was and loathed all Grisha, so she conspired against you to stop you and the Darkling.
Aleksander was looking for true immortality, only Alina didn't know it was for you. She accidentally killed you and then cursed the Darkling and his Grisha, capturing them in clay for all eternity.
Your sister thought she had done the world a favour and took her punishment of eternal life alone in solitude. She wasn't expecting anyone to be able to "resurrect" the Darkling and his followers.
As you were growing up, memories started to return from your previous life from centuries ago. By your early twenties, you remembered everything and started to look for your long-lost lover while the news of a woman who knew things no living being should know reached the ears of the recluse immortals who would join or stand against your followers in this new war.
Pairing: Alina Starkov(a) x Grisha!Reader, Past!Darklina, Implied!Unrequited Aleksander Morozov(a) x Alina Starkov(a) x Reader
Summary: After the Darkling’s death, you seek to avenge him, but instead you confront some repress emotions.
Warning: It’s all angsty, baby. Vague-ish Spoilers for Season 2, Me, making shit up because I can.
Taggies: @marvelmusing (Sorry to do this to you.)
“Very convenient of you to leave me out of your plans, Alina.” You appear in the middle of her bedroom as she removes her crown from her head.
She says your name gently, but you swear there’s a hint of malice or perhaps grief.
“You were missing.” She sits down still facing away from you. As you prepare to summon shadows to choke her, she is on her feet in the same stance.
“How?” She gasps, finally looking you in the eye. She hesitates to attack, and you are already close to her, grabbing her by the neck and tossing her against the wall. You are far from surprised that she has his shadows. She was his Sun Summoner, his Alina, his favorite. You were and still are just one of his shadows in the darkness.
“You killed him, and you didn’t even let me say goodbye.” You hiss. “It’s the least you could have done for me.”
“He was a monster.” She wiggle out of your hold, and she attacks you almost knocking you on your feet.
“He was our only hope, and now you’re helping the Royal family.”
“I’m doing the right thing for Grisha.”
“You’re misguided, and you’re helping the enemy.”
“Nikolai is different!”
“Isn’t that great for you? But what about everyone else? The other orphans, the other Grisha who have been tortured for decades under his family rule. You killed their hope! Some of our friends and allies are missing. Or should I say your former friends.”
She grabs you, pinning you on the ground, putting a hidden dagger to your neck. Her hair is disheveled, and you remember the first time she bested you during your training at the Little Palace. You were excited for her finally embracing her powers. Both of you were relatively new to embracing both of your powers, and while you stayed somewhat close and friendly, it was clear you somehow were eclipsed by both the General and Alina.
“You only listen to what you want to believe.” You mumble. “You’re so afraid of being a tool, but you let anyone use you. I shouldn’t have helped you. I wouldn’t have helped.”
You wrap your legs around her, and you roll her over pinning her down. The dagger has left her hand a long time ago, but you’ve just noticed, not to mention she hasn’t screamed for help. She wiggles a hand free and reaches up to touch your cheek.
Your heart flutters remembering the small talks in the library you had and the fruit you shared during the few walks you took together between Alina learning to ride a horse. The General...he...always had made time for her, and the time you tried to take moments for yourself and Alina were interrupted by his need to be the only one in her orbit. Somehow, she did the same when you attempted to seek him out. She was always in need of something from him: approval, touch, comfort. Eventually, you made yourself scarce knowing you would never penetrate that orbit.
Alina leans her head in for a kiss, and you can’t help but kiss her back. You immediately pull away, but she pulls you back for another kiss cupping your cheek. Tears start to stream down your face, but the hunger and grief keeps you close to her lips.
You sit up quickly as does Alina, and she holds the hem of your cloak as if she can sense your desire to flee.
“Please stay.” Alina begs, her plea barely hitting your ears. Before you can respond, she’s pulling you to your feet by your shadows, and you can’t break out of her grip. The look in her eye is almost feral, and it is nothing you have ever seen from her.
You pull on the shadows seeming to yank her towards you, and you can’t help fight back. She tugs you harder with what you can assume is hungry smirk on her face, and you pull her close to you.
“Come with me.” You mirror her plea.
She pulls you back to her, and your lips crash against hers. The both of you hold each other close, the kiss deepening.
Alina lets her hair fall to her shoulder, and you can’t help but play with a few strands. Kill her. Avenge him. Kill her. Kill her. Avenge him. She betrayed your people. You don’t have to live in her shadow anymore. You don’t have to compete with him anymore. You don’t have to…be.
You repress the thoughts and pull away, and Alina looks you up and down.
“I am sorry.” Alina wipes tears from her eyes. “I should have…known you loved him, too.”
“I suppose we were all blinded.” You clench your fist, trying to muster the courage to strike.
Someone knocks on the door, and Alina turns toward it. You flee leaving the same way you came.
When you get to your hideout, you press your back against the wall and slump down to the floor fingers touching your lips. You ignore the pull calling you back to Alina along with the regret of not killing her then and there. Another pull urges you, but you can’t place it as Alina’s pull is only slightly stronger from the other one. You won’t be surprised if she chases you until she finds you just as the General did when you attempted to help her flee.
Damn. You touch your lips again closing your eyes. You swear feel lips on yours again, but they’re different this time, a beard scraping against your cheek. You are up on your feet again, and you sigh, having lost yourself in the grief again.
Summary: As the sun sets, your new life as a statue begins and you struggle to find your place in this strange and unfamiliar world. The more you learn, the less you understand, and the feelings you’re experiencing regarding Aleksander and Alina only adds to your confusion.
Warnings [18+]: smut, dub con, fingering, nudity, somnophilia, discussions of sex, mild violence towards the reader (physical and magical choking), angst, references to emotional manipulation with magic, object insertion, human to statue transformation, consumption of magical potions, very brief mentions of pregnancy, Aleksander and Alina have been alive for centuries and they don’t know how to have normal relationships
My Masterlist • Part One
As sleep fades from your mind, you turn your head and end up face to face with Alina. Her pale hair casts a soft halo over her features, the bright strands ruffled erratically by her slumber. A heart stopping smile spreads across her lips when her eyes meet yours.
“Good evening,” she whispers.
After scouring your surroundings, the plush pillows and soft sheets, you blink at her shyly.
“How did I end up in your bed?”
She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingertips grazing over your cheek to trace along your jawline.
“You were fast asleep when you turned human again. I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you. Aleksander carried you to bed.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She beams at you, her hand snaking its way down your body before it settles on your bare mound. Heat spreads over your cheeks as you ask nervously, “Are you checking for stone?”
She shakes her head, her fingers slipping between your folds. Each stroke is casual and languid, as if she’s simply enjoying the feeling of your arousal building beneath her touch.
“You’ve been so good,” she coos dotingly with a rather adoring smile. “I think you deserve a reward. Don’t you agree, Sasha?”
Aleksander’s hand smoothes over your hip as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. The smile that touches his lips is softer, more tentative, yet he agrees immediately.
“I do.” His answer is low and raspy, his voice thick from sleep and it makes your stomach flip.
Alina’s thumb encircles your clit and you whimper at the sudden burst of pleasure thrumming beneath your skin. It spreads through your muscles, soaking deep into your bones until you’re shaking with the need for more.
Their voices are low as they murmur encouragements and praises that make your cheeks burn, heat diving down to where your pulse is pounding. After the last two days of being edged and toyed with, your nerves are fraught.
The pressure of Alina’s thumb remains steadfast, confident circles that make you writhe between them both. In a direct contrast, Aleksander’s fingertips are deceptively light as they dance over your bare body. They leave you aching for more and less at the same time, which has you approaching your climax at a frightening rate.
Even after you’ve come undone over her fingers, the shaking doesn’t stop and your heart continues to pound as you attempt to catch your breath. Overwhelmed, you close your eyes and press your head back into the pillow beneath you. Before you even realise it, you’re thinking of Alina wrapping her arms around you while Aleksander strokes your sides.
Emotion blooms heavily in your throat as you realise how much you want to be held by them both. The urge makes your chest ache, but the thought of asking your captors for cuddles makes you feel ridiculous. Zoya’s words immediately spring to mind. You’re too soft for them. Much to your dismay, hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand to quickly hide your tears and prevent any further embarrassment. Alina curls her fingers around your wrist, halting your movement, which allows your tears to fall in earnest.
“Whatever for?”
For a brief moment, you want to admit how much you want them both to care for you, and tell her about the doubts Zoya had placed in your mind. But you bite your tongue.
Zoya might not have given you the warmest welcome, but you don’t want her to get into trouble. Not to mention that you feel insane for feeling so much for them in such a small space of time. You shouldn’t feel anything for them besides anger and hatred for what they’ve done to you.
“Nothing,” you concede weakly. “It’s nothing.”
Alina tightens her grip on you.
“Don’t lie to us.”
Her voice isn’t overly stern, yet her eyes are your downfall and you relent quickly at the sight of them so fixated on your tears.
“Zoya said I’m too soft for you, and I’m scared she’s right.”
To hide from their reaction, you close your eyes. Until Aleksander says,
“Alina used to cry after sex.”
Shocked, you look up at Alina. Her head turns quickly to direct an accusatory look at her husband.
“Aleksander!” Each syllable is drawn out with mock fury and she swats at his bicep in retaliation. He ducks his head, attempting to make himself a smaller target.
“You did,” he protests with a playful smile which softens as he adds, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She clasps her hands in her lap, appearing shy for the first time since you met. Her gaze moves up to you from the ring on her finger - a polished piece of black onyx simmering in the candlelight.
“Aleksander was my first,” she admits.
Her eyes flicker up to look at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips when their eyes meet. It must have been centuries since they first met, yet in this moment you can see how they must have been when they first fell for each other. It warms your heart, yet there’s an ache of longing there once again.
Alina ducks her head down, capturing your lips with hers which catches you completely unawares. A small sound of surprise hums in your the throat, which soon dissolves into a quiet moan of pleasure as the ache in your chest eases. She cups your cheeks, her hands a soothing balm to the distress that had been burrowing its way into you.
She settles on top of you, pushing you firmly onto the bed, and you grind your hips upwards mindlessly in search of some friction. She breathes out a soft laugh, her smile widening which she sees your lips chasing hers.
A shocked little “oh!” escapes you when she slips a finger inside you which she mimics teasingly.
“I think you can give me another one. Can’t you, my little statue?”
Halfway through shaking your head, your body tenses with the force of nearing another climax. Each muscle in your legs quivers and you dig your heels into the plush mattress as you lose control over your body. The pleasure makes you shake even more than before, your chest heaving rapidly.
“You really are a work of art,” Alina murmurs appraisingly, her fingers dancing up your bare body. Unable to acknowledge her words, you keep your eyes closed as Aleksander tilts your head backwards, revealing your neck for him to kiss. His teeth drag over your pulse point and you moan softly.
Then Alina slips her arms around your waist, pulling you against her chest - away from Aleksander’s lips.
“Don’t damage her, Sasha.”
He grips onto your hips, tugging gently in an attempt at dislodging you from Alina’s hold as he argues,
“She’s my statue.”
“But I made her.”
An aroused little gasp slips from your lips, which draws their attention back onto you. They both grin. Alina strokes your cheek fondly.
“Do you like it when we fight over you?”
“A little,” you admit shyly.
They both laugh, appearing to settle on a compromise as they both begin to kiss you lazily. When Alina claims your mouth, her husband nibbles along your pulse point. Then they trade places. Aleksander sucks on your lower lip, while his wife digs her teeth into the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
There is barely a moment between each kiss for you to recover. It leaves you breathless.
“What kind of Grisha do you think you are?” Aleksander murmurs against your lips. That makes you withdraw slightly, though they don’t let you go far.
“I- I told you, I’m not Grisha,” you insist. “I’m not powerful like the two of you, or beautiful like the other statues.”
Alina sighs heavily but Aleksander smiles at his wife.
“Now you know how I felt about you.”
“I wasn’t this bad.”
“You were worse.”
Their discussion of you - and your non existent power - has nerves settling in your stomach and you gnaw on your lower lip in agitation. What will they do when they figure out that you’re nothing special? They won’t want you anymore. Aleksander draws you into his lap.
“Don’t worry yourself, my gem. Alina has always had a shorter temper than myself.” That makes her scoff lightly, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation at her husband. “Even after a few hundred years, she struggles with the art of patience. But I can wait. Reveal yourself whenever you are ready.”
Alina gives you a soft smile. It’s clear she agrees with Aleksander’s sentiments, but that doesn’t fully ease your anxiety. After all, you don’t understand what they want from you. Surely, if you had some sort of power it would have revealed itself already.
The covers slip from Alina’s body as she stretches, yawning rather adorably. Then you notice the scar on her left shoulder. It’s small, but gnarly, stained black from some sort of dark magic.
Hesitantly, you brush the knuckle of your index finger against the ridge of roughly healed skin. She smiles softly, before explaining in a low voice,
“A gift from the Darkling.”
The sound of Aleksander’s former title makes you glance at him quickly. A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he leans over to kiss his wife, which has your stomach flipping with surprise. You had thought neither of them would want to be reminded of when they were enemies - though it seems to be quite the opposite.
They both grin into the kiss, Alina’s teeth nipping at his lower lip during a brief interlude when they part for air. In response, Aleksander curls his fingers around her throat, squeezing the vulnerable area against his large palm.
A rather dreamy sigh escapes you, as you stare in admiration of them both looking so breathtakingly beautiful. The sound attracts their attention and they turn to look at you. Alina leans over to you, kissing you softly before she slips from her husband’s grasp.
Aleksander props himself up against the headboard, his bicep flexing as he curls his arm behind his head. The two of you watch Alina as she moves towards the wardrobe at the side of the room. The dimples at her hips crease as she shifts her weight from side to side, considering the clothing hanging in front of her.
She turns with a white lace robe draped over her arm and heads back towards the bed. She places it over your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“I’ll call for Genya to keep you company today.”
Self conscious, you fidget with the hem of the robe, drawing it closer to yourself as you lower your gaze.
“You don’t need to bother her. I’d be alright by myself.”
Aleksander reaches for you now, fingers grazing the side of your neck before they curl around the nape. He kisses you leisurely, his lips moving slowly as he steals each second of precious air from your lungs. When he finally withdraws, your chest aches as you gasp in a series of shuddering breaths.
“You aren’t a bother,” he insists. Then he kisses you again.
Hands curled into weak fists, you press them against his chest, unable to figure out if you want to push him away so that you can breathe or bring him closer to drown yourself in him. Bright sparks dance beneath your eyelids as he pulls away and your head spins as oxygen floods your system.
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Genya grins widely when she sees you standing outside Aleksander and Alina’s door.
“I take it you’ve had a good night so far?”
Heat rushes to your cheeks and you duck your head bashfully to escape her gaze as she loops her arm around yours. The two of you walk side by side through the corridors, moonbeams and flickering candles lighting your way.
Genya pauses when you reach a set of double doors. She pushes them open and immediately a rush of humidity hits your face. A shudder rolls through your body, as the lingering cold inside you flees from the heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat glossing over your skin as you enter the room, squinting in the bright moonlight that spills from the large window carved into the ceiling.
In the centre of the room, there’s a pool which seems to be the main source of heat. Steam curls over the surface of the water and you look at the people lounging around the room.
“Most of the statues spend their nights here,” Genya tells you.
“Doing what?”
“Whatever you want. Relaxing. Sleeping. Pampering one another.”
The sight of one particular group catches your attention immediately. Three women and one man. They are seated amongst a mound of velvet cushions and plush fabrics. All four of them are in varying stages of undress. The woman in the middle is wearing a sheer red robe, her bare body openly on display. Her eyes lock on yours and recognition dawns on you.
“Is that Zoya?”
Genya nods.
“Beside her are Nadia and Marie.”
The two women are fawning over Zoya, their hands wandering over her body. The man is draped between her thighs, his head ducked down as he licks leisurely at her cunt. It makes your core tighten.
“And…?”
Genya scoffs lightly in amusement when she sees where your gaze has stopped.
“The one between her legs is Nikolai.”
She takes your hand in hers, tugging you towards the side of the room.
“Here,” she says. “Let’s clean you up a little.”
The two of you find a quiet corner where you can sit undisturbed. There’s a number of smaller pools, that remind you of rock pools, where water bubbles cheerfully.
Genya finds a seat, settling down on a velvet bench that sits low to the ground. She scoops up a handful of water, splashing it over her face. Her fingers smooth across her cheeks, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and lashes. When she sees you watching her, a smile spreads across her face.
She dips her hands back into the water, shaking them lightly before she removes them and sweeps her wet hands over your face. The moisture makes your nose crinkle and Genya laughs softly.
“This water is enchanted.” You hum questioningly and Genya explains, “Being turned into stone so often takes a toll on our bodies. The water helps our muscles and joints stay healthy.”
She tilts her head, eyes tracing down your body while you consider this information.
“Should we clean off your legs?”
Looking down at your thighs, heat rushes through your body as you realise that the mess of your arousal has dried on your skin.
“I can do it, thank you.”
“Sit at the edge of the pool,” she suggests. A frown creases at your brows and she smirks with mischief in her eyes. “Zoya will be able to see you properly there.”
The temptation is too much to resist. It’s hard not to be aware of the eyes on you, as you sit down at the edge of the pool. But, after spending the beginning of the night with Aleksander and Alina, you feel a little thrill of pride as you lower your calves into the warm water, scooping up handfuls to clean your thighs.
The water is soothing against your skin, a comforting caress that clears away the evidence of your earlier climax.
At the far end of the room, a door opens and Alina steps inside. Almost everyone turns to look at her, as her eyes scour over the sea of faces until she lands on you. Unable to stop yourself, you smile and glance down at your bare toes, splashing them in the water beneath you.
She walks casually around the pool, her eyes rarely straying from you. When she reaches where you’re sitting, you tilt your head back to look up at her.
Alina sits down beside you, taking hold of your chin so that she can press a chaste kiss to your lips in greeting. A shy smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.
The two of you sit in comfortable silence, your legs hanging down in the water as you watch the other statues lounging beside the pool. Then she turns to ask you,
“Has Genya told you why I make my statues?” With a frown, you shake your head. “Aleksander and I aren’t complete together. There’s a missing piece - another person to balance us.” She glances around the room, gesturing to all the people relaxing in the heat. “Every one of my statues is someone who I hoped might have been the one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aleksander’s mother was a prophet. She told him that our future partner will be a powerful Grisha. Someone capable of breaking my statue spell.”
Immediately, you think of the book you found in the library and attempt to remember how the spell could be broken. Before you make any progress in your recollection, you’re distracted by thoughts of how Aleksander had pressed you against the bookcase, leaving the hint of a kiss on your lips.
A flustered heat spreads over your cheeks and you look down shyly at your knees, hoping she can’t tell you’re thinking such thoughts about her husband. She traces her fingertips over your shoulder, drawing little patterns on your skin.
“The spell I placed on you is exceptionally hard to break. Do you know why?” You shake your head. She smiles. “Because you love me - and you like being my statue.”
Caught off guard, you’re painfully aware of your heart pounding in your chest, hot blood rushing to your cheeks and down your neck in response to her words. The feelings you have for her are still difficult to decipher and you’re mortified at her brazen acknowledgement of them.
She looks down at her knees, her feet swaying lightly in the water.
“All my statues love me - I created them - they can’t help it. That’s why you haven’t ever considered hurting me, even after what I’ve done to you. But the love you feel for me now… it isn’t real.”
Stunned by her words, you can only stare with parted lips. Something sharp twists in your chest. Strangely enough, it feels a lot like betrayal. The blossom of your feelings has been plucked, its petals tattered by the storm of emotion currently threatening to choke you.
She smiles sadly, reaching out to stroke your cheek. The ache inside you deepens at her touch. A tear spills down from your eye and you shake your head which causes her to drop her hand.
“No.” The word wavers on its way out. She tilts her head, frowning slightly as she tries to read your current emotions. It takes a moment for you to settle on one in particular - anger. “You don’t get to take my entire body away from me and then tell me what I can and can’t feel for you.” She leans closer, her hands reaching to comfort you and you recoil backwards. “Don't touch me.”
Alina freezes and for a brief moment you think she looks hurt. Guilt stings at your chest. Then her brows furrow together, her features darkening.
“I don’t appreciate that tone.”
Usually, you would be terrified of angering her, but in this moment you’re too upset to care. Tears blur your vision as you pull your legs from the water.
“Well, I don’t appreciate being a plaything to amuse you until someone better comes along.”
Her eyes widen, her expression dropping as you stand. Her voice is a near whisper that you barely hear as you hurry away.
“That’s not-”
The idea of your feelings towards them being artificial, something created by Alina’s magic, has you feeling foolish and eager to get away. They haven’t allowed you a moment alone since your second transformation into a statue and the heat that had initially been comforting is now strangling you.
A shiver runs over your wet skin as you walk through the corridors mindlessly by yourself, with no destination planned. Genya’s tour yesterday hadn’t been extensive and you soon find yourself in an unfamiliar area that looks like an entry hall.
As you walk towards the large oak door, your heart rate quickens in anticipation. There isn’t much hope in your thoughts when you reach for the handle, twisting it cautiously.
The door opens.
Stunned, you look back into the house, almost expecting someone to appear and stop you from leaving. But there’s no one there. From where you’re standing the house is silent, aside from the frantic beat of your heart.
For a moment, you hesitate. Your feet are bare. You’re only wearing a thin robe. But you aren’t escaping. A short walk in the gardens might help you clear your head.
The paths are winding, the route concealed by the tall bushes that line each side of the walkway. It’s almost like a maze. The thought of wandering until sunrise makes you worry. Would Aleksander and Alina look for you?
The sight of someone in the corner of your vision makes you halt in your tracks, stepping back behind a bush out of sight.
“You’re new,” she says.
Her accent isn’t the refined Old Ravkan that you’ve grown accustomed to hearing in the house. Rather naively, you stay still in the hopes of losing her attention.
“I can see you, little miss.” She laughs bluntly. “Not to mention that I can hear your heartbeat.”
Stepping forwards, you move away from your hiding spot.
“You’re a heartrender.”
She tilts her head, studying you for a long moment with her pale blue eyes before she nods.
“What’s your name?”
Genya had told you that only the statues that fall out of favour with Aleksander and Alina end up in the gardens. Even with your feelings hurt, you don’t want either of them to be upset with you. As a result, associating with someone in the gardens might not be the best idea. After some hesitation, you give her your name. She nods in acknowledgement.
“I’m Nina.”
“Why are you out here?”
She grins.
“I could ask you the same thing, little miss.” There’s a teasing spark in her eyes and you lower your gaze bashfully. When you don’t speak, continuing to wait for an answer, she sighs and explains,
“I fell in love. Aleksander didn’t approve.”
“What happened?”
She turns her head and you follow her gaze as it lands on a rather weathered statue in the centre of the neatly cropped lawn. The man is sitting on the ground, his expression fond as he looks at no one. Then it dawns on you.
“You’re one of Alina’s statues.”
She nods.
“As my punishment, Aleksander turned Matthias into stone. When one of us is a statue, the other is human.”
You can’t imagine how upsetting it must be, being separated from the person you love like this. Never able to talk to them, or hold them again. Yet so close. From what Genya has told you, Aleksander and Alina seem to care for their statues. But Alina’s admission has made you wary of your thought regarding them.
“I’d get back to the house if I were you,” Nina advises you. “Before they realise you’re missing. You don’t seem like the type to misbehave.”
Immediately, you shake your head at the thought of getting into trouble with Aleksander and Alina.
“I don’t know the way back.”
Nina raises a brow at you. For a moment, you feel like a lost little lamb. Helpless. Then she points down a pathway.
“Keep following that path until you reach the fountain. Walk through the rose garden, then you should be able to see the house from there.”
“Thank you.”
She shrugs.
“Don’t mention it.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Lost in thought, you wander aimlessly through the house. As you’re turning a corner, Aleksander appears out of nowhere, pinning you to the wall. His hand curls around your throat.
“You’ve upset my wife.” His words are cold and calm which sends a shiver down your spine.
“She upset me,” you protest, gasping in his hold as tears fill your eyes. “But neither of you care about that. You don’t care about me.”
“We don’t care?” he repeats slowly, as if testing the sound of the words on his tongue. Panic claws at you when you realise the skin beneath his palm is turning to stone. “You think we allow any of the others into our bed?”
Unable to stop yourself, you remark,
“What about Zoya?”
His anger sharpens, his grip tightening as he tilts his head aside to watch intently while your airway becomes restricted by marble.
“I have known Zoya for centuries. She helped me stave off the loneliness until I met my Alina.” With each word, his magic creeps over your skin, hardening your throat into marble. Dots swim over your vision, as breathing becomes even more difficult. “I don’t care which one of you started this petty rivalry but it ends now. You want to take Zoya’s place? Earn it. Is that understood?”
Only once you’ve nodded weakly does he finally release you. Without the pressure of his hand to keep you upright, you collapse. Instantly, you place a hand to your throat, rubbing the tender skin there as you heave in a flurry of shaky breaths. Teary-eyed, you stare up at him. If he regrets his actions, you don’t see it in his expression.
He strokes your cheek, ignoring how you flinch.
“I expect an apology before sunrise.”
There’s a hoarseness to your throat when you attempt to speak.
“I’m sorry,” you state shakily.
He grips your chin, tilting your head back to meet his darkened eyes.
“Not to me.”
A faint nod is all you’re capable of, but it seems to satisfy him and he strides away down the corridor.
Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you stumble back to your room. The only emotion you’re capable of feeling is utterly distraught, the shattered pieces of your heart digging into your lungs.
Once you reach the safety of your room, you close the door, slumping weakly against it as you tuck your thighs against your chest so that you can hide your face between your knees.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
It’s Genya. She smiles gently.
“Aleksander sent me. Are you alright?”
Immediately, you crumble in on yourself, bursting into tears. She wraps her arms around you, drawing you close as she steps into your room.
“I know,” she murmurs sympathetically as she strokes your hair. “He scared you - didn’t he?”
Genya guides you over towards the bed, setting the two of you down as you continue to cling onto her. She lets you sob, only stepping in occasionally when you forget to breathe. In this moment, you are so upset that you forget how self-conscious her beauty makes you, even when she wipes your runny nose until the skin is raw.
It isn’t long before you’re exhausted by your emotions.
She lowers your head onto her lap, so that she can smooth over your hair soothingly. The tears fall slower now, sliding heavily down your face. The two of you remain silent for a long time, the only sound being your tearful sniffles as you slowly begin to calm yourself.
“Genya?” She hums softly, encouraging you to continue. “How old are you?”
There’s a pause.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“We don’t really keep track of the days here,” she says lightly. “I used to count the summers, but gave up after so long. It doesn’t really matter to us.” Fresh tears bloom in your eyes, as you realise you are trapped here forever. Nothing can take you away from them, not even old age.
After a discrete sniffle, you ask,
“Were you one of the first ones?”
Her hand halts in its petting.
“What makes you think that?”
“They trust you.”
She pauses, before admitting,
“I was Aleksander’s first statue.”
At the mention of his name, you sit up to face her.
“Aleksander’s?”
She nods, stroking your cheek gently as she sweeps the tear-soaked hair from your face. You frown.
“But, doesn’t that mean you should be a statue now - at night?”
She shakes her head.
“As a wedding gift for Alina, he removed his magic from me, so that Alina could have me as hers. He did the same to Zoya.”
“Zoya?”
Saying her name, even in a whisper, makes you feel as though Aleksander and Alina are about to descend upon you for a scolding.
“Alina and I were friends almost instantly when she arrived here. Zoya has always been possessive - I think she and Alina are too alike - they bickered and fought from the moment they met. Belonging to Alina is a gift for me, but it’s a punishment for Zoya.”
Genya shuffles across the bed, until her feet are touching the ground. Then she tilts her head, studying your face.
“It’s almost time for dinner. Why don’t we freshen you up and head downstairs?”
The thought of sitting at the dinner table, in front of Aleksander and Alina and all the other statues, makes you want to hide in the wardrobe or under the bed.
“I’m not hungry.”
A light frown crinkles at her brows.
“They won’t be happy if you skip a meal,” she warns you. Something must shift in your expression, because she softens her tone as she adds, “After dinner, you could speak to Alina about what happened between you.”
“I don’t want to, Genya,” you protest pitifully, your voice wavering as you wipe at your tearstained cheeks with agitation. “They hate me.”
“They don’t.”
Staring down at your hands, you admit rather brokenly,
“I think they do.”
She places a hand over yours, cupping your cheek with her other hand to guide your eyes upwards so that they meet hers.
“Neither of them are truly angry with you - maybe displeased but not angry. Trust me. If they were, we wouldn’t be talking like this.”
“I’d be out in the garden.”
She hums quietly, not an outright agreement but you know you’re right.
“Come on, let me clean you up. How did your feet end up so dirty?”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Aleksander’s expression is sombre as he enters the dining room. His eyes scan over each person at the table, and you avert your gaze when he gets to you. He sits down at the head of the table, the same seat as the other morning when you had eaten breakfast in his lap.
Everyone seems to be waiting for him to speak.
He adjusts the position of his cutlery, straightening the knife closest to his plate. Then he looks up directly at you.
“Alina won’t be joining us for dinner this evening.”
You feel sick to your stomach.
Unable to focus on anything but the storm of emotions swarming in your chest, you push your chair backwards, uncaring towards the scraping sound that attracts everyone’s attention.
Genya murmurs your name quietly, a comfort or a warning - you don’t know. Her hand tugs lightly on your dress, but you pull away easily, shaking your head to dismiss her sympathy. You don’t deserve it.
The weight of Aleksander’s eyes presses on you all the way to the doorway. You still feel watched, as you walk through the winding corridors towards their wing of the house.
Once you reach their door, nerves twist at your stomach but you force yourself to knock. The silence afterwards has you wringing your hands together. The sound of Alina’s voice makes your heart skip.
“Leave me be, Sasha.”
Drawing together your courage, you call out,
“Alina? Can I come in?”
There’s a pause. Then the door unlocks with a quiet click. The handle creaks lightly, before it glides open.
She’s sitting on their bed, wearing one of Aleksander’s shirts. Her arms are wrapped tightly around a velvet cushion and there’s twist in your chest when you realise it’s the same cushion she placed beneath your head when you were in your statue form.
Her eyes are lined with red, and guilt stirs in your stomach. She uncrosses her arms as you approach the bed. Some of the tension in your body eases when she pats the spot beside her rather amicably. Relief softens the frown creasing between your brows. She doesn’t seem displeased to see you.
When you sit down cautiously, she strokes her hand over your cheek.
“You look like you’ve been crying yourself sick,” she observes, her lips puckered into a sympathetic pout. Her concern makes your tears return.
“Alina,” you whisper brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”
She regards you solemnly, her expression unreadable.
“Did Aleksander tell you to come apologise?”
Her question catches you off guard.
“I-” The thought of lying to her makes your throat tighten. The memory of Aleksander’s hand squeezing there causes a phantom ache. “He did, but I really am sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that.”
“You got upset.”
“Yes. I did,” you whisper shamefully, lowering your head to avoid her gaze.
She hooks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can meet your eyes.
“I understand,” she concedes. “I’m sorry too.”
You blink at her, confused.
“Aleksander was the first person to want me,” she says quietly, her thumb circling your lower lip. “It’s been such a long time, I will admit, I forgot how much it hurt thinking I was unwanted. But I saw it in your eyes, and it… surprised me.”
She tilts her head, considering her next words.
“Most of my statues don’t care that their feelings were created by my magic.” She traces over your cheek with her fingertips, stroking along your hairline tenderly. “You’ve fallen a lot harder than the rest of them.”
Embarrassment warms your cheeks. It’s ridiculous, falling for her so quickly, especially after everything she’s done to you.
“I’m sorry.”
She smiles and your stomach flips at how painfully beautiful she looks with mirth glistening in her eyes.
“Don’t be.”
There’s a small pause.
“Genya said that belonging to you is a gift,” you state. Alina hums in confirmation. Her eyes flicker between yours as she acknowledges your unspoken question.
“Aleksander made Genya his statue to keep her safe from her parents. Even though she loves him like a brother, being tied to such a powerful man always made her somewhat uncomfortable. Becoming mine freed her.”
That makes you pause, titling your head as you think. Their displays of affection might be unconventional, but Aleksander and Alina do seem to care for their statues.
“I should have listened to what you were trying to tell me.”
She shakes her head.
“I’ve explained it so many times - to almost all the newest statues - I don’t know why I got it wrong this time.”
“How can I make it up to you?” you ask shyly. “I’ll do anything.”
She blinks hopefully at you.
“Anything?” There’s only a brief moment of hesitation, before you nod. “Take your dress off.”
Her request doesn’t surprise you, though you still feel shy as you slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing the fabric over your hips before you drop it to the floor. She smiles widely, playing with a strand of your hair before sweeping it behind your ear.
“I’ve been thinking of a place for you, in the house.”
The thought of being moved out of their bedroom so quickly makes your stomach twist. Nervously, you fidget with your fingers.
“You have?”
She nods, tilting her head to gesture towards the centre of the room.
“Do you see that table?”
Hope enters your heart.
“Yes,” you whisper.
She places her hands on your hips, steering you backwards until your lower back hits the edge of the table. Slowly, she slides her hands beneath the crook of each of your knees, lifting you up onto the furniture. The surface is cold against your bare skin and a shudder rolls through you.
“Stay here,” she commands softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
She moves over to the side of the room, stooping down to open a cabinet and retrieve a bottle of dark liquid. After lifting the stopper, she pours a glassful and brings it over to you. With unsteady hands, you hold onto the glass, staring down at the contents.
“Drink it all.”
Not wanting to be seen as disobedient, you take a plentiful gulp before asking your question.
“What is it?”
She waits until you’ve swallowed another mouthful. The sharp fruit flavour quickly softens as it slides down your throat and the tension leaves your shoulders as you lick over your lips.
“It should help relax your muscles.” She smirks deviously. “So, I can push you into whatever position I want.”
The sweet taste lingers heavily on your tongue.
“What position are you thinking of?”
She takes the glass from you, licking the rim at the spot where your mouth had been. Arousal burns in your core. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, drinking in the sight of you growing so flustered and she grins.
She pushes you back further, your feet swinging off the floor, and your stomach flips at the sudden sense of vulnerability. Then she keeps pushing, lowering you down onto your back so that you’re lying in the centre of the table. A shiver runs over your skin when the cool surface meets your bare body.
Alina hooks her hands beneath your legs, lifting them up onto the table. She bends them, until your knees are pressed up on either side of your head, your cunt bared to the crystal chandelier directly above you.
“Can you hold your legs like this?”
Surprised at your own flexibility, you turn your head to study each of your legs.
“Yes.”
She beams at you.
“That’s my girl.”
Every inch of you burns delightfully. Hers.
She lowers her head between your legs. Her tongue slips through your folds, licking a stripe over your open cunt. A squeal and a moan converge in your throat at the sudden sensation and your face burns with embarrassment at the sound.
Alina lifts her head, a grin tugging at her lips.
“Stay just like this.”
She moves over to the side of the room, standing on tiptoe to reach for the decorative light fixture attached to the wall. The flame flutters as she grips the base, loosening it from the attachment that keeps it fixed there.
Her fingers are curled around the base, which acts as a slim handle as she carries it over to you.
She traces a fingertip lightly over the curve of your buttocks, a contemplative expression dancing in her eyes.
“I’d like to slot this inside you.”
Utterly taken aback, your mouth drops open.
“The candle?”
She laughs.
“No, silly girl.” She tilts the candle holder, gesturing to the handle. “This end here. Do you think you can hold it for me?”
“I-” You falter.
“It would make me very happy.”
Slumping your head back, you stare up at the ceiling, eyes wandering over the sharply cut gems as they reflect the low light of the chandelier.
“You’re coercing me,” you mumble in protest.
She grins, amused and proud.
“Yes.”
Closing your eyes, you push your embarrassment aside.
“Will you go slowly?”
Her expression softens.
“Of course.” She offers you the candle holder which you take with an unsteady hand. “Wait a moment.”
She moves over to her dressing table, opening a drawer which she searches through with a small frown on her face. With Alina busy, you take a moment to study the candle holder. The material is smooth in your hand. There’s a substantial weight to the metal and your core tightens at the thought of having the handle pushed inside you.
Alina returns with a small tub of cream which she scoops up with her fingers on one hand. Then she takes the candle holder from you, and you watch as she smears the cream over the handle.
She then slips her hand between your legs, tracing a firm circle over your sensitive cunt. The cream is cold and you twitch at the change in temperature. Her fingers delve inside you, curling as they search for the spot that makes your hips buck upwards with a startled gasp.
A deep moan catches in your throat as she begins to push the handle inside you. In your hand, the metal had felt almost room temperature but it’s like ice as it meets your red-hot cunt.
“There we go. Good girl. Take it all for me.”
She slides it further into you, so that the wick of the candle is pointing upwards towards the chandelier above you.
“With some practice, you might be able to hold onto a more weighty candlestick, one with several arms.” It’s hard to concentrate on anything while she’s twisting the base inside you. “A pretty little candelabra,” she teases.
A familiar stiffness enters your body, and you inhale sharply when you realise the sun must be rising. Alina strokes your thigh soothingly with a smile.
“It’s okay. Remember, you just need to relax.”
The idea of turning into a statue doesn’t scare you as much as it did the first time, but you still aren’t comfortable as the heavy sensation fills your body. Suddenly, you realise that she intends on keeping the candle holder inside you during your transformation - that during the day she will be able to use your body as a light fixture.
“Alina?”
She stills and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve spoken her name aloud in front of her. Her dark eyes fix onto yours.
“Yes?”
“What would happen if…” Embarassment makes you pause, as you struggle to gather your words. “…if I reached my climax the moment I turn back into a statue?”
She grins widely.
“Then you will stay in that blissful state for the entire day.”
“The entire day?”
She nods.
“It is a rather intense experience. The pleasure could break you.” She tilts her head, her eyes locked onto your soaked cunt as she continues to twist the handle inside you. The urge to squirm coils inside you, but with your body transforming all you can manage is a shiver.
“If I continue like this, you will stay on edge for the entire day.” She blinks at you. “Which would you prefer?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, your throat growing hoarse and dry as the skin of your neck turns to stone.
She hums, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“You handled a day of edging rather well last time. I think we will stick to that until you’re better trained to withstand pleasure.”
Thoughts of how she might train your body to endure such pleasure has anticipation prickling up your spine. She smiles, releasing her hold on the candle holder so that she can lean over and press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Pure bliss warms your body as you wake, a pleasurable fullness in your core that tempts you into sinking back into slumber. But the sound of voices keeps you somewhat awake.
“She thinks far too much.” A familiar voice. Aleksander. A firm hand strokes down your bare back.
“Well, I know how to remedy that.”
“And what do you suggest, my darling wife?”
“We spend the entire night in bed, passing her between one another. She can’t think if she’s drunk on pleasure.”
After blinking some of the sleep from your eyes, you shift your body slightly and realise you’re lying on someone’s bare chest - Aleksander.
His dark eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, and your heart pounds violently as you attempt to remove yourself from him. Involuntarily, your cunt tightens around his cock - as if protesting the mere thought of your sudden exit. He settles both his hands on your waist, holding you firmly in place.
“Easy, little gem. I’m not mad at you.”
You blink at him.
“You’re not?”
He shakes his head, breathing out a soft,
“No. I’m not.” He rolls his hips upwards, drawing a low moan from you. “Alina told me you apologised.” His hips grind against yours, the head of his cock nudging the sweet spot inside that makes your skin tingle. “Therefore, you’re forgiven.”
“Thank you,” you gasp.
He breathes out a laugh.
His cock is so big inside you. It stretches you open with each thrust, nudging at your most sensitive areas which has your toes curling with pleasure.
Alina rests her hand against your stomach, stroking the skin there as she presses the area where her husband’s cock is. Her name is slurred as it tumbles from your lips. She laughs.
“Yesterday was a long day for you, little statue. You must be tired still. Get some more sleep.”
She kisses your temple and a fuzziness fills your head as her magic creeps into your mind. A delirious moan slips from your lips as you succumb to her spell.
Despite being asleep, you can still feel everything happening to your unconscious body, while your mind wanders through a medley of fantasies featuring Aleksander and Alina - which blur with reality until you don’t know what is actually happening.
Grinding your naked body into Alina’s, her hands grasping at your most sensitive areas. She slips her fingers inside you, prying your cunt open.
Kneeling between Aleksander’s thighs with Alina by your side. The two of you trade wet, open mouthed kisses. She takes Aleksander’s cock into her mouth, pretty pink lips stretched. The next time she kisses you, the taste of her husband clings to her tongue.
The head of Aleksander’s cock gliding over your dripping cunt.
Alina’s teeth grazing your nipple.
Her tongue licking up the length of your inner thigh.
The pad of his finger, rubbing your clit.
The sticky softness of Alina’s cunt against your tongue.
Distantly, you hear Aleksander curse in an ancient language you’ve only ever read on yellowed pages. His fingers dig into the soft plush of your cheeks as he grips your face while fucking into you relentlessly.
“Alya. Where do you want me to-” He groans sharply.
“Inside, Sasha,” she insists with a breathy sigh. The sound of her slick coated fingers, playing with her cunt makes your core tense. Her back arches as she whines softly. “Finish inside her.”
With a stifled gasp, Aleksander presses his forehead against your collarbone, as he nears his climax. His teeth dig violently into the hollow of your throat, the pain causing you to tighten around him, your cunt now strangling his cock.
The two of you moan in unison, grasping tightly onto one another as you both reach the peak of your pleasure, your bodies writhing in the throes of a violent, synchronised orgasm. Aleksander’s grip on your hips is tight, squeezing you as he groans.
Alina isn’t far behind, her frantic movements and moans registering distantly through the clouds of bliss fogging up your head. It takes quite some time for you to catch your breath. Even when Aleksander eventually pulls out from inside you, there’s a disconnect between your mind and your body.
Their magic hazes over your thoughts, dulling your awareness while she plays with Aleksander’s spend as it leaks out of you. The wet sound of her fingers and your unsteady breathing fills the room. She smears the creamy mess over your thighs, before ducking her head down to lap up the streaks with her tongue.
The three of you remain in bed, lying side by side. Unable to stop yourself, you look down at your hand, watching your thumb move slowly over your abdomen.
“You won’t end up with child,” Alina says quietly.
Startled, you look over at her with widened eyes.
“I won’t?”
She shakes her head.
“My magic stops your natural cycle.”
“Oh.”
Her eyes wander slowly down your body, settling on where your hand remains on your stomach.
“Besides, Aleksander and I can’t…” Her voice trails off into nothing and sadness traces its way over her features.
“Alina, I’m so sorry.”
She attempts a casual shrug.
“It’s probably for the best.”
Placing your hand over hers, you squeeze it softly.
“I’m still sorry.”
She slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your hips are pressed flush against hers, your legs tangled together. Her nose brushes against yours before she kisses you softly. Aleksander’s arm curls around the two of you, drawing you both closer to him.
He leaves a kiss on your shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he inhales a deep sigh. Another kiss is pressed against your pulse point as he murmurs in a voice so quiet you scarcely hear it.
Summary: Sankta Alina and the Darkling rule over those who live in the hidden realm of magic. Alina herself is particularly fond of turning those who trespass onto their kingdom into statues. Legend says they like to toy with their victims, and if they think you’re pretty enough they just might keep you forever.
Warnings [18+]: sexual content, non consensual human to statue transformation, dub con fingering, very brief anal fingering, nudity, mild threat, Aleksander and Alina collect people consensually (excluding the reader), praise kink, sensory depravation, smidge of humiliation kink and exhibitionism
A/N: just me dropping a big fic out of nowhere, don’t ask me what this is, I don’t even know, it’s mostly vibes (kinky magical vibes)
My Masterlist
“Did you know, I can choose what kind of statue someone will turn into?”
She ignores the quiet, fearful whimper that escapes you. Instead, she continues to talk, playing with your hair as she sits in your lap. Despite the blindfold looped around your head, you keep your eyes squeezed tightly shut, your heart hammering against your ribs. She hums thoughtfully.
“I think I want you to be marble. Something smooth.” Her hand rubs over your thigh, pushing aside the delicate fabric of your dress to reveal your bare skin and a shudder runs through your body. She laughs. “My apologies.” Her tone turns teasing, dripping with faux sympathy. “Are my hands too cold?”
Being an expert in Ravkan mythology, you had expected to find some artefacts or ancient stone carvings in these caves - not the infamous Sankta Alina. Known as a trickster goddess, the more recent legends state that she turns her victims to stone with a mere glance.
The dress you’re wearing was picked by the men who had sent you down into the caves, no doubt in the hopes of enticing the saint or perhaps even the Darkling himself. Another shiver prickles over your skin.
She presses a kiss to your cheek. Her lips are plush and warm, a painful heat sears down your body, stoking the traitorous arousal between your legs.
“Don’t worry, little statue. You won’t feel the need for warmth for much longer.” She kisses the spot beneath your ear, her nose buried in your hair as she breathes in a sigh. The affection makes you tense, confusion stirring in your heart.
“I usually pick limestone or granite for the humans intruding on my husband’s kingdom. They get broken up and used for construction.” Her hands wander over your body, feeling every inch of you. She curls a hand around your throat, squeezing momentarily and laughing when she feels your pulse leap. “But you. I think my husband will like you. I think you will fit in perfectly amongst his private collection.”
Her fingers reach for the ties of your dress, tugging lightly on the knots over your shoulders. Instantly, you squirm, holding the fabric close to your chest. She grasps hold of your chin tightly and you whimper in fright. When you continue to shift nervously, she clicks her tongue sternly and you freeze in place.
“Good,” she says softly, as you lower your hands down to sit at your sides which allows her to pull the front of your dress down. “A pretty statue like you shouldn’t be covered up by clothing. I want to see every part of you.”
Her nails tear at the rest of the dress, ripping the bodice until it reaches the slit at your legs. Goosebumps spread over your skin, your nipples hardening at the sudden chill. She hums appraisingly, her fingers dancing over the waistband of your underwear, before she removes the garment with a harsh tug that makes you squeal.
“There we go. I prefer you like this.” The smile is evident in her voice. She sinks a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful to bear your throat to her and you can imagine her smile twisting into a grin. “Let’s get you into a better position.”
She urges you down onto your knees, nudging your thighs apart with her foot. There’s a knot in your stomach and a stiffness enters your body, your muscles quivering beneath your skin.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she murmurs. “It isn’t actually my eyes that turn people into stone. That’s a silly myth. It’s my touch. Can you feel it happening yet?”
Panic spears at your heart and you realise how deep the ache inside you actually is. A weak moan vibrates in your chest as the weight of your bones becomes noticeable, heavier than usual as they press into the softness of your body.
A pained whimper catches in the back of your throat and she hushes you soothingly. Her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. Her touch burns like a gust of winter wind. A tear spills from your eye, cool against the painful heat of your cheeks.
“There, there. It’s alright,” she soothes. “It will happen slowly, at first, as your bones and muscles change, but when it spreads to your organs I’ll make it quick for you.” She brushes your hair backwards, working it into a more presentable style. “Can I see your pretty eyes before the end?”
With trembling hands, you pull off the blindfold which you had thought would protect you from this fate. The light in the cave is low, but it’s a startling change from the darkness behind your blindfold. Blinking away the blurriness, your eyes immediately lock onto the figure in front of you.
She’s beautiful. Impossibly dark eyes with a frightful amount of perception lurking in their depths. Bright white hair that casts an angelic glow over her features and you can’t tear your eyes away from her. She’s wearing a kefta, a garment you’ve never seen before aside from the illustrations in picture books. The silk is black, embroidered with golden threads.
She smiles widely, her expression softening as if she’s watching an adorable baby animal.
“Such a sweet little thing. He’s going to love you.”
She settles her knee between your thighs and you gasp at the sudden contact. Her smile widens into a grin as she cradles your face between her hands, forcing your back to arch slightly. Anxiety thrums beneath your skin as your body stiffens further. Panic begins to wind its way around your insides when you realise you can no longer move any of your limbs.
The sensation is cold and painful, each part of your body aching fiercely as it changes from warm flesh into hard stone. Each breath you take is frantic, despite her soothing words. She steps back to admire you as the pain spreads over your face, your features hardening into stone.
Sound is muffled, your ears filled with a soft roar like the distant waves of the sea. Her voice echoes through your consciousness, though you struggle to catch one singular word. Then she touches you.
She runs her hands over your breasts, admiring every dip and curve made into smooth marble by her. Her touch is methodical, checking over every inch of you for any imperfections in the stone. Her fingers stroke between your legs searchingly and the urge to squirm coils violently inside you. But you can’t move.
Her soft laughter echoes as she steps away from you.
Seconds, minutes, hours go by. With your senses narrowed, sound is indistinct and your sight is nonexistent. All you can feel is an incessant throbbing between your legs. The world fades in and out of focus as you drift thoughtlessly, tethered only by your unending arousal. Then someone approaches you.
“Oh Alina,” he remarks in an appraising sigh. “She’s beautiful.”
A deft finger traces along the underside of your jaw and a shiver fights beneath your skin at the feeling of two sets of eyes on you.
“She still experiences sensation,” she explains, a glimmer of pride in her voice. “Has full consciousness, though that won’t be too capable given her current state of constant arousal.”
He places his hand on your stomach to steady himself as he leans down to take a better look between your legs and the heat and pressure of his palm makes a silent moan writhe in your throat. There’s a molten sensation in your core. If he pressed his fingers against the seam of your cunt, you wouldn’t be surprised if he found it soft like wet clay.
“I know you wanted a piece for our bedroom.”
“You’ve outdone yourself.”
There’s a hint of shyness to her voice as she says,
“You like her?”
“Alya, she’s perfect.”
“I don’t know much about her temperament, but she made the sweetest little whimpers when I changed her.”
His hand strokes your cheek, fingers dropping down to trail between your breasts.
“I don’t mind if she needs some housetraining, and the girls will help her with the rules.”
She hums quietly in agreement, reaching over to cup one of your breasts, pinching the nipple. There’s no pain, but the pressure of her fingers makes your stomach flip somehow.
“I think, with a little breaking in, she’s going to be such a good girl for us.”
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Bright moonlight wakes you. There’s a stiffness in your limbs; you had been sleeping in an awkward position with your legs folded beneath your body. Blinking your dry eyes, you lift your head to survey your surroundings.
An unfamiliar bedroom, decorated in black silk and shimmering gold accents. The covers shielding your body are thick and cosy despite the gloss of nervous sweat gathering over your skin. The events of the last day are hazy in your mind, vague words and strange sensations blurring together, indecipherable from your dreams or nightmares.
There’s a knock at the door and you freeze in place, your heart hammering with fright. Drawing the covers up to cover your naked body, you stand on shaky legs and approach the door cautiously.
The moment you open the door, someone says,
“Oh, you are pretty, aren’t you?”
Her hair is the colour of autumn leaves, pinned delicately at the sides to frame her beautiful face. Smooth cheeks, flushed prettily with a rosy hue and wide eyes the colour of the summer sky. The rest of her hair spills down her back in gentle waves. She’s wearing a robe, made from a rich emerald green fabric that flares at her waist, where the belt has been tied neatly. The garment halts at her knees and her feet are bare, toenails painted a pearly pink.
The girl beside her is equally gorgeous.
Her eyes are as dark as midnight, singular stars shimmering in each of them as she looks at you. Full lips curl into a smile full of mischief. Dark hair cascades over her shoulders, creeping down to frame her breasts. The deep blue robe she’s wearing clings to her figure, showing off an ample amount of cleavage and her bare legs - the hem is much shorter than the red haired girl’s robe.
They are both wearing necklaces, identical to the one you now notice is hanging from your own neck.
Everything about them both is polished and pampered, yet their beauty seems effortless and innate. You have the distinct feeling that if you stripped them of their fine clothing and pretty jewellery they would be even more stunning.
The compliment offered so casually makes you draw back on yourself, tightening your grip on the covers shielding your body.
“Thank you?” you say shyly.
The dark haired girl smirks and your stomach flips. The other girl’s smile is friendly as she gestures to herself and then her companion.
“I’m Genya. This is Zoya.”
The door handle remains grasped tightly in your other hand, your body half hidden by the door. Genya seems to notice your apprehension.
“It’s okay, we’re like you.”
“Like me?”
“We’re part of Aleksander’s private collection.”
Her words stir at your thoughts, jostling the back of your mind. Then you remember. I think my husband will like you. I think you will fit in perfectly amongst his private collection. It wasn’t a dream. It was all real.
“Aleksander?”
“Alina’s husband.” Zoya’s eyes narrow fractionally, her gaze assessing you. “The king.”
Swallowing hard, you nod. You certainly remember her. The phantom sensation of stone spreads over your skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface. Entranced at the sight, you stare down at your arms, turning one of your hands over so that you can study the lifelong grooves and marks on your skin that now seem foreign.
“How- how am I back as me?” you ask quietly, continuing to stare at your hand.
“Not a statue, you mean?”
Gaze flicking upwards to meet Genya’s eyes, you nod.
“Alina’s magic only holds during the daytime. The night is when Aleksander’s magic comes to life.”
“So what happens to us during the day?”
“We turn back into statues.”
Instantly, your stomach drops. Glancing towards the window further down the corridor, you see a glimpse of the night sky. Anxiety gathers in your chest at the thought of turning into stone again once the sun rises. Zoya tilts her head at you with something like suspicion in her eyes.
“Alina doesn’t usually like to keep trespassers intact once she’s transformed them.”
Reading between the lines of her statement, you frown at them both.
“You came here willingly?” They nod. “Why?”
“Aleksander and Alina keep us safe.”
“By being their statues,” you state incredulously.
Zoya shrugs.
“Partially.”
Before you can ask her what she means, Genya interrupts your line of thought with a question.
“Did Alina tell you what material she made you into? I’m alabaster.”
“She said she wanted me to be marble.”
“Marble?” Genya muses quietly with a thoughtful looking smile. She appears to be suppressing a smirk, pressing her lips together as she turns her head to the side, away from Zoya. The dark haired girl in question draws her brows together, scrunching their perfect shape as she frowns.
“What kind are you?” you ask, before you can lose your nerve.
Zoya lifts her chin, a prideful glimmer in her eyes as she says,
“Bronze. I’m the centrepiece in the grand hallway.”
Despite your confusion, you nod slowly, feigning comprehension. Zoya seems to be expecting some sort of reaction from you, which makes you fidget anxiously. Genya’s smile softens kindly before she explains,
“We all have our own personal place in the house when we change into our statue form.”
“Oh,” you say, as understanding dawns on you. “I heard her - Alina - say she wanted a piece for their bedroom.”
Zoya scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Most of us started off in their bedroom. Don’t be insulted when they move you elsewhere.”
Something twists in your chest. Disappointment? Annoyance flares beneath your skin as you bristle at your own emotions. Why are you disappointed at the thought of not being wanted by them? They’ve abducted you. Genya places her hand on your forearm and you flinch at the sudden contact. She drops her hand instantly, smiling in reassurance.
“Alina and Aleksander usually like to keep an eye on a new edition to their collection. Once you’re more settled, and they’ve gotten to know you, they will find the perfect spot for you.”
She glances down at the bedcovers wrapped around your body.
“Alina has asked us to help prepare you for breakfast.”
You blink at her.
“Breakfast?”
Zoya smirks.
“Just because we’re statues during the day doesn’t mean we don’t eat.” Her comment makes your cheeks flush warm with embarrassment over your ignorance.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Genya prompts you gently. The prospect of food makes you realise how empty your stomach is. You nod hesitantly and she smiles. “Can we come in?”
You nod again.
Zoya strides in confidently, moving directly towards the bathroom to begin drawing a bath. Water tumbles from the faucet, spilling into the bathtub with an echoing rush. Soon, the room is filled with steam and the sweet scent of soap. Genya extends her hand towards you, which you take tentatively. She entwines her fingers with yours, giving them an assuring squeeze before she tugs you gently towards the bathroom.
Zoya has untied the belt of her robe, loosening the front of the garment so that it hangs casually over each of her shoulders. She’s wearing nothing beneath her robe. Unable to pull your eyes away, you stare at her body with heated cheeks. She smirks, crossing her legs elegantly as she sits down in the chair next to the bath.
“You’ll get used to it,” she remarks teasingly. “The rest of us statues rarely wear real clothes in the house.” She grins. “It makes for easy access.” Her fingers dance along her thighs, slipping momentarily beneath her robe and your stomach flips at her insinuation. You can’t ever imagine feeling so comfortable being naked.
Genya tugs lightly on the bedcovers wrapped around you. Instantly, you turn your face to look at her, your eyes widened.
“Do you mind?” she asks softly.
Swallowing hard, you steel yourself and nod with as much bravery you can muster. Loosening your grip, you allow Genya to drop the bedcover to the floor. A tension enters your body, every muscle stiffening as you stare directly ahead, to avoid both their gazes and the chance of seeing your own body.
Zoya turns her body, muscles stretching languidly as she reaches for a bottle of bath oil from a nearby shelf. Out of the corner of your vision, you think you see her eyes roll.
Genya offers a hand to help you climb in which you take shyly as you clamber unsteadily. Once you’re settled in the warm soapy water, she traces her fingers delicately through the bubbles.
“You really are pretty,” she says softly. “I can see why Alina liked you enough to keep you.”
Her words prickle over your skin, embarrassment and disbelief and painful hope coiling around one another as they rush through your veins. This time, you can’t even muster a word of gratitude. Genya doesn’t seem too bothered though. She begins to scoop a handful of water, pouring it gently over your back.
Throughout your bath time, Zoya remains an observer, while Genya takes it upon herself to bathe you. Her nails scrape delightfully over your scalp, drawing soft moans from your lips quite involuntarily - much to your embarrassment. With each sound you make, they share glances and stolen smirks that make your cheeks warm.
Zoya retrieves a thick towel, patting your body down herself when you step out from the water. The instinct to cover your body prickles over your skin, but there are too many parts of yourself to hide so you settle on rubbing your arms nervously, feigning a shiver. Genya takes your hand again, leading you back into the bedroom.
She sits you down in front of the vanity table by the window, while Zoya opens the wardrobe and begins to search through the cacophony of clothing nestled inside the cabinetry.
Genya smoothes creams and ointments over your face, using a soft brush to sweep powder and swipe shimmer across your eyes and cheeks. She collects a dewy gloss on her fingertips, dabbing the substance onto your parted lips. She styles your hair effortlessly, in a manner that has you staring in awe.
“Why do they keep us?” you ask her. She frowns slightly, brows drawing together as she hums quietly in confusion, her gaze remaining focused on your hair. “What do they get out of it?”
She hesitates.
“We all offer them something different. I think both Aleksander and Alina would consider me as a companion.”
“You’re friends?”
She nods. Looking away from the reflection of her in the mirror, you glance at Zoya as she spreads a garment out across the bed. She lifts her eyes, meeting yours from across the room as she smirks.
“I guess you could say I’m their concubine,” she says with a pleased smirk, pride woven between her words.
Her admission makes your stomach flip, your eyes lowering to your knees self consciously.
“What will they want from me?”
Genya places a hand on your shoulder, which draws your gaze back to hers.
“Whatever you’re willing to give them.”
Her words are reassuring but before you can ask for clarification, Zoya is moving towards you with a dress in her arms.
“How about this?”
A soft blue dress. The fabric is practically sheer and the hemline is indecently short, but with your current nakedness you would be willing to wear anything. Slowly, you trace your fingers over the fabric, admiring the gentle shimmer of silver throughout.
“It’s beautiful,” you admit.
The two of them help to tie the strings at the back of the dress, fixing it into place on your body. Nerves begin to gather in your chest and you fidget with the hem, rubbing the material between the pads of your fingers.
After a few final adjustments from Genya, she takes you by the hand once again and begins to lead you out of the bedroom.
The nerves thrumming through your body prevent you from admiring the house as you follow Genya and Zoya towards the dining hall. As you approach the doorway, you can feel them both looking at you.
Genya says your name quietly and you turn to face her. Before she can say whatever is weighing on her mind, Zoya turns and stops directly in front of you, blocking your way. She and Genya share a look that you struggle to decipher. Then, Zoya seems to win whatever silent argument has ensued.
Genya squeezes your hand in reassurance, before she walks into the hall. Once she’s out of sight, Zoya turns back to you.
“Listen. If Alina has decided to keep you, she must care about you already - for some reason.” Her tone is incredulous, as if she hasn’t figured out why Alina has decided to keep you. “A word of warning, they both have a sadistic streak. Aleksander just hides it better. They will want to humiliate you and push you to your limits. If that’s what you’re into, you’re a perfect fit for them. If it isn’t, tell them, and they will find some other use for you.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m not getting replaced by someone who didn’t even have to ask to be here. You’re not getting everything I’ve been working for.”
Unable to stop yourself, you argue,
“And what if I’m a perfect fit for them?”
She wrinkles her nose slightly, her mouth quirking with a barely suppressed laugh.
“You’re not. You’re too soft, I can tell. You won’t enjoy half the things they want to do with you.”
Her accusations make you bristle. She doesn’t even know you. The thought of being around Alina again, and meeting her husband, does make you nervous. In all honesty, you might be too soft for them. But there’s a curiosity deep inside you that longs to discover that for yourself - without any help from Zoya.
“Thanks for the advice,” you say stiffly.
The smirk remains on her lips as the two of you walk into the hall, her hand pressed to your lower back.
There’s intricate crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting an iridescent glow over the polished marble floor. The surface is cold against your bare feet and you shiver at the sensation and the reminder of how your flesh had changed to hard stone.
Along each side of the dining hall, there’s a row of marble statues, one in front of each window. The expression etched onto most of their faces is terror, their bodies bent into odd angles with a strange elegance as they all seem to have been captured in the midst of fleeing. Each one of them are morbidly beautiful, smooth features twisted by fear in a manner that makes your stomach turn.
By the time the two of you reach the dining table at the end of the hall, you’re shaking in anticipation. Zoya moves away from you, sitting herself down in the seat next to Genya. There’s a number of other people already seated and you can feel their eyes on you. The only familiar face is the one who keeps your attention - Alina.
She lowers her glass with a smile that widens as you draw closer, beckoning to you when you realise there’s no chair available for you.
“Come here, little statue.”
The nickname feels silly, given that the majority of the people at this table are probably also statues. Does Alina call them by the same term of endearment?
She pushes her chair back slightly, providing some space for you in her lap. Swallowing down your nerves, you take a deep breath and sit in her lap. She curls her hands underneath the crook of your knees, dragging you closer, and heat rushes through your body. Her smile twists with amusement.
“I see you’ve met Zoya.”
At the mention of the girl sitting across from Alina, you nod rigidly and Alina laughs. She strokes your cheek fondly, her eyes roaming over your figure.
“Before you eat, we need to check you’re fully human again. Make sure there’s no stone left in your body.” She hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can peer up your nostrils. “Nose seems clear.” Holding onto your chin, she turns your head from side to side. “Ears as well.”
Embarrassment burns over your cheeks and you can feel your pulse beating its way along your throat at the thought of everyone’s eyes on you. She presses her thumb against your lips.
“Open your mouth.” When you obey, she slides her thumb into your mouth. “Good girl.” Instinct has you closing your lips around her digit and she shakes her head with a stern expression. “Ah ah. Keep it open for me.” She presses the pad of her thumb down on your tongue and your stomach flips. She smiles. “There we go.”
Drool spills from your mouth as your tongue goes heavy, and panic grips at you when you remember how her touch had turned you into solid marble.
“Relax, little statue,” she teases. “My magic doesn’t hold during the night.”
“Mine will hold,” Aleksander counters with a small smirk, twirling his fork between his fingers. Then his gaze locks onto yours and he grins. “Though I have much more restraint than my wife, and I quite like the idea of you with a beating heart and warm body.”
Even with her thumb in the way, you manage to whimper and they both laugh. He beckons to you, fingers gesturing between you and himself as he says,
“Come now, Alya. Let me see my gift.”
She removes her thumb from your mouth, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek as she murmurs a warning.
“Be good.”
Even though Alina is the one who turned you into a statue, she’s familiar. Her husband, Aleksander, is a complete stranger. The pressure of impressing him weighs on your mind as you look over at him shyly. Unable to stop yourself, you glance across the table at Zoya. She presses her lips together, suppressing a smug smirk and frustration prickles over your skin.
Straightening your shoulders, you scrape together enough courage to move towards Aleksander. He uncrosses his legs, leaning back in his chair. His eyes move between you and Zoya, observing the brief interaction. Amusement glimmers in his dark eyes as he tilts his head, appraising you as you approach his chair.
His hands roam over your body, gripping at your hips to guide you into his lap. He smoothes his palms over your thighs, slipping beneath the soft skirt of your dress to grasp at your bare body. He traces his way over your hips and waist, curving upwards to admire the rest of you.
“What’s your name, little gem?”
Suddenly shy, you murmur your name to him. He smiles and repeats it in a low voice that makes heat spread over your face and neck. He circles his thumb over your cheek, stoking the fire burning beneath your skin.
“There are a few more areas we need to check,” he informs you. A frown creases at your brows as you think over the areas Alina had checked, and consider what spots she might have missed. There’s a smirk in her tone as she says,
“I thought I would save them for you, Sasha.”
He settles his hands back on your hips, dipping to trace the crease at the top of your thighs, while his thumb strokes your mound.
“May I?”
Realising where he intends on touching you, the breath catches in your throat. Turning to look at Alina, you find her expression fond as she regards her husband. Dumbly, you turn your head back and forth to stare at them both, unable to answer properly.
“I-”
“I’ll be gentle.”
You blink at him, confused. Zoya had said they would both enjoy humiliating you. Why is he asking for permission? Why isn’t he forcing you? He could spread you over the table in front of everyone to examine your remaining holes. Why does the thought of that excite you?
His hand presses against your stomach in an assessing manner, his head tilted as he seems to be searching externally for any stone left inside you. The expression on his face is serious and you realise Alina was telling the truth. Hesitantly, you nod in consent.
He nods with a soft smile.
“Just keep your eyes on mine.”
His fingers trace over the seam of your cunt and your eyes flicker between each of his, fighting to do as you’re told. His smile widens as the pads of his fingers sweep through the mess of arousal gathered there.
“Good girl,” he murmurs appraisingly. “That’s it.”
He sinks a finger into you slowly. A low moan catches in the back of your throat and his smile widens slowly. His finger curls searchingly, tilting to explore every inch of you, and your back arches with a small gasp at the sensation.
The skin of your thighs tingles with pleasure, your thoughts hazing over as he thrusts his finger teasingly inside you. Suddenly, you remember where you are. The sensation of so many eyes on you makes you bite on your lower lip, cunt tightening involuntarily around his finger. Sensing your dual embarrassment and arousal, he slips another finger inside, stretching you out delightfully.
The slight twinge of pain makes you whimper and he hushes you soothingly. The sounds escaping you seem to encourage him. He kisses along your neck hungrily, his lips moving eagerly over your pulse point. He increases the pace of his fingers, your toes curling with pleasure.
“There we go. Such a good girl for me.”
His teeth nip lightly at the sensitive spot beneath your ear and you inhale sharply. He smiles against your skin, his nose grazing the hollow of your throat as he murmurs more praises. The pleasure runs up your spine and you moan softly.
When he presses the pad of his thumb against the puckered hole between your buttocks you grow tense. Weakly, you shake your head and he hushes whatever protest you might have voiced.
“Easy now. Just relax.” He cups your face with his hand, keeping your eyes fixed on his as he eases his thumb into you slowly. “Deep breath.”
It’s intrusive and humiliating, yet he seems genuine in his care. Each breath you take comes out in stilted little gasps until he removes his thumb from you. He kisses your cheek, as a reward, before he murmurs,
“All done.”
Aleksander assembles a plate of food for you to share with him and he feeds you by the forkful, seated in his lap. Occasionally, Alina will lean forward to touch you - a soft squeeze to your breasts or thighs.
After breakfast, Genya shows you around the house, explaining a little more about the new life you’ve found yourself in and you follow her on shaky legs.
“Alina made the majority of the statues in the house,” Genya tells you. “She takes great pride in their maintenance.”
“Maintenance?”
Genya smiles, her cheeks flushing.
“During the day, when we’re in our statue forms, she likes to clean and polish us.”
“Oh.”
The image makes your blood rush hot beneath your skin - Alina with a cloth, polishing your marble body which has been frozen in place by her magic. Flustered by the idea of being so totally at her mercy, you glance towards the open window. A cool breeze strokes your cheeks and you take a moment to admire the sight of the grounds outside.
“Are we allowed out into the gardens?” you ask.
Genya regards the outside warily.
“Sometimes.” She reaches for the window frame, pulling it shut carefully. “If either of them are displeased with you, you might find yourself decorating the fountain on the front lawn.”
Being turned into stone is bad enough, you can’t imagine being left outside in the elements, where anyone could see you. The concern must be visible on your face, because Genya settles her hand on your arm.
“But you’re marble, I doubt they would risk damaging you like that.”
Lost in thought about what you’ve discovered, you hum quietly with a small nod.
The library is by far your favourite room. Once Genya realises you’re content to stay amongst the books whilst she seeks out her partner, David, you’re left on your own for the first time since you awoke.
It doesn’t take you long to find the books on magic. Absorbed by the words in front of you, the world around you fades as you read everything you can. Magic users in Ravka have always been called Grisha. General knowledge regarding their abilities has changed over the years. Originally, their power was divided into specific orders, but over the hundreds of years since the myths of Sankta Alina and the Darkling first began, their magic has developed.
One particular spell attracts your attention. The ability to turn someone into stone - and how to reverse the effects. An arm curls around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. Aleksander’s voice is low as he muses against your neck.
“That is a particularly complex spell.”
Heart pounding, you turn your head to face him, your grip on the book tightening.
“I wasn’t- Well I’m not Grisha, so it wouldn’t work.”
He tilts his head at you.
“Yes, you are.”
Perplexed, you begin to shake your head minutely in disagreement.
“I’m not.”
He nods his head, a condescending edge to the motion. He reaches over the book, flicking back several pages before he stops to trace his fingertips across a specific passage of text. It’s hard to forget that his fingers have been inside you and the memory has you growing warm.
“Read it aloud,” he instructs you.
“Should the object of this spell be Grisha, the effects will not be permanent. During the spellcasters height of power, the object will remain in their new form, shifting into their original form during a lapse in power.” The frown on your face deepens with each word you read and once you’re finished you look up at Aleksander. “What does that mean?”
“At sunrise, you will turn back into marble.” You nod. Genya had explained that to you earlier. “If you were an ordinary human, you would be a statue forever.”
“But I’m Grisha,” you state, unconvinced. He nods. His eyes slide slowly over your body, studying every inch of your expression and you struggle to meet his gaze due to its intensity.
“Do you want to free yourself?” he asks.
“I don’t think I want to be a statue for half of my life.”
“You don’t sound certain.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks, fuelled by his statement. No one in their right mind would choose to be a statue - would they? And yet, you think of what Genya and Zoya had said. Aleksander and Alina offer them protection. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he watches you, shrugging as he decides to save you from your thoughts.
“Alina’s magic surpasses whatever latent power you possess,” he states. “It would take several hundreds of years for you to master such a spell.”
“Would you teach me?”
“No.”
“The stories say you taught Alina everything she knows.”
“You dare compare yourself to my wife?”
His words are sharp, yet there is a teasing smile dancing over his face and his eyes sparkle with a dangerous humour. Instantly, you shake your head, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you step backwards. Panic closes your throat as your spine presses against the bookshelf.
“N-no. I wouldn’t-” You stammer, before adding, rather self deprecatingly, “I couldn’t-”
Aleksander steps forwards, closing in on you. He laughs softly, hooking a finger under your chin. His smile fades as he looks into your eyes, his expression growing serious as he whispers against your lips,
“Don’t doubt yourself.”
He leaves the barest hint of a kiss there before he steps back, striding out of the library without another word to you.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
As the night draws to a close, your muscles begin to ache, anticipating the change your body is about to undergo. Genya walks you to the northern wing, stopping in front of the door that leads to Aleksander and Alina’s bedroom. She gives you a hug, wrapping her arms around your body for a brief squeeze of reassurance.
“They like you. I can tell,” she whispers.
“Thank you for today, Genya.”
She draws back, sweeping a stray strand of hair away from your face. Her thumb strokes your jawline briefly before she withdraws with a smile.
“See you tomorrow night.”
You nod shyly.
Then you’re alone.
For a moment, you consider fleeing down the corridor to find somewhere to hide. Then you hear movement from inside the room and the low sound of Alina’s voice, talking to her husband. Inhaling deeply, you curl your fingers around the handle and open the door.
Alina turns at the sound of you entering, a smile spreading over her features as her eyes lock on yours. She’s dressed in a soft bath robe, her damp hair bundled at the top of her head. Aleksander is sitting at the foot of their bed, his legs crossed casually.
There’s a fuzzy pain filling your head and you blink back tears as Alina extends a hand towards you which you accept.
“Where does it hurt?” she asks, rubbing your hand soothingly. Emotion catches in your throat, a hot tear spilling down your cheek.
“I- Everywhere.”
Her expression softens.
“Come here.” She draws you into her arms and you press your face against her chest, squeezing your eyes shut. She pets the crown of your head gently. “Come sit with me.”
She guides you over to a low daybed, settling your head in her lap as she sits. The velvet is plush against your skin, moulding into the shape of your body as you lie down beside her. She slips the shoulders of your dress down, pushing the fabric to your hips.
Heat prickles over your cheeks as you tug at the dress, ignoring your embarrassment as you pull it down your legs to pool onto the floor. The thought of being naked is still daunting, but Alina’s words ring in the back of your mind. A pretty statue like you shouldn’t be covered up by clothing. I want to see every part of you.
She smiles at the sight of you baring yourself to them both. Aleksander sits down beside you, stroking his hand along the bare curve of your waist.
“If you’re relaxed when you change, you will stay in that state in your statue form.”
You blink hopefully at him.
“I will?”
Alina hums softly in affirmation, cradling your face between her hands. Her thumbs stroke delicately over your cheeks as your muscles stiffen involuntarily. Aleksander’s hands wander over your body, providing soothing and affectionate touches as you try to fight the instinct to panic.
“Deep breaths,” he instructs you gently.
Trying to be brave, you nod. Despite your best efforts, a tear slides down your temple into your hairline. Aleksander wipes it away carefully as your body freezes in place, rigid as you begin to change into solid stone. They both murmur reassurances that become less comprehensible with each passing moment.
The world fades into darkness.
Alina continues to stroke your hair and face carefully. Her fingers trace over your features, wandering over your lips, up to your nose, before she smoothes her way across your brows. Aleksander was right, you do feel relaxed, especially with Alina touching you with such reverence.
She slips out from beneath you and the sensation of your head remaining suspended in the air without support makes you momentarily unsteady. The fear of tipping over clutches at your silent heart. Her hand curls under your head, keeping you in place as she replaces her lap with a velvet cushion.
The action has emotion welling in your chest, feeling cared for even in this moment - even when you aren’t human. Aleksander stands and his footsteps move over towards the centre of the room. The sound of bedcovers creasing with his presence have you assuming he is sitting on their bed - watching you and Alina.
When her touch disappears, you imagine her turning to look at Aleksander. The feeling of her weight leaving the daybed makes you want to reach for her.
She laughs, giddy with joy. Her feet pad hurriedly over the floor as she moves towards her husband. His hands rub over her skin and you can imagine her bounding into his arms.
“I really like her, Sasha,” she whispers.
The sound of them kissing makes your stomach flip.
“I do too, milaya.”
Her voice is quiet and with your mindset growing hazier by the second her words are barely intelligible.
“You don’t think I’m being silly, getting my hopes up so soon?”
He sighs.
“If it was anyone else, I would tell you to be cautious with your heart. You love so deeply, milaya, I don’t want to see you hurt again. But I have a good feeling about this one.”
They kiss again and your thoughts melt into nothingness as the sun filters in through the curtains.
Summary: Settling into life as a vampire isn’t what you expected, but Aleksander and Alina are more than happy to guide you.
Warnings [18+]: mentions of masturbation, nudity, soft dark vibes, similar warnings to part one, vampire themes, blood consumption, reader is reliant on Aleksander and Alina for everything
My Masterlist
The first day you spend with Aleksander and Alina appears to have been a fluke - the last of your human energy being used up - because by the next day you’re exhausted. Aleksander assures you it’s normal for a fledgling vampire to sleep for the majority of the day when they’re a newborn.
It doesn’t take long for your mind to melt into a hazy mess. All that you’re aware of is forehead kisses, the sweet taste of hot blood in your mouth, and the sticky mess of arousal between your thighs that they wipe away carefully with a damp cloth.
Sometime during the fourth or fifth day, Aleksander is carrying you to bed after feeding you his blood, only for you to tighten your grip, looping your arms around his neck when he attempts to let go of you.
“No,” you whine, pitifully high with distress as you cling to him. “I’m not tired.”
“Yes, you are, little one. You need your sleep.”
Aleksander settles you down on your mattress and helps you slip underneath the covers, tucking you in with care. For comfort, he gives you one of the plush animals from the collection Alina has lovingly assembled over the years of preparation for you - a fluffy brown bear with a cream bow around its neck - which you grasp onto, fidgeting with its ear in agitation.
When he turns away, heading for the doorway, you can no longer hold back your tears. The prospect of an empty bed, and falling asleep in the dark, has your throat constricting in fear.
“Aleksander,” you plead, sniffling as you press the bear tightly against your chest to ease the discomfort there. “Please don’t leave me alone.” He stops immediately. “I know it’s silly, but after what happened in the forest, I- I’m scared of the dark.”
He doesn’t say anything until he’s standing beside your bed, reaching over the bars to wipe your cheeks.
“Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” he suggests softly.
You nod.
Aleksander moves over towards one of the cabinets at the side of the room, lifting the lid of a little box and a tinkling melody begins to play.
He opens up the gate closest to him, climbing easily onto your bed. Almost instantly, you scramble to lie beside him. The stuffed bear stays pressed against your chest as you drape your legs over Aleksander’s, grasping onto his shirt tightly.
He smiles as you bury your head into the crook of his neck and the tension leaks from your body the moment he begins petting your hair.
“There we go,” he breathes out softly. His voice is gentle as he continues doting on you. “Deep breaths. Just relax.” His hand strokes down your body, encouraging you to nestle further into him. “That’s better, isn’t it, sweet girl?” The hand that isn’t in your hair rubs your thigh, the bare skin exposed as your nightgown shifts upwards. “You’ve been so brave for us.” A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Such a good girl, sleeping and feeding when we tell you to.”
It hasn’t really been a conscious choice - adhering to the routine they’ve crafted for you. Hunger and exhaustion have been the driving forces behind your obedience. It’s hard not feed on Alina - when she offers you her fingers, sticky with blood from the shallow cuts created by her own fangs. Especially when her blood makes you feel so full, and warm, and safe. It’s almost embarrassing, the amount of times you’ve fallen asleep while feeding on them.
Just the thought of feeding makes you squirm slightly, a familiar heaviness growing between your legs. One morning, to your embarrassment, you had awoken with your hand tucked underneath your panties, fingers reaching for your leaking cunt. Aleksander had told you very firmly that he knew this instance was an accident, but you couldn’t touch yourself. Alina explained later on that it would overwhelm you.
Despite your frustration and arousal, you doubt your current capability to touch yourself efficiently enough to climax.
The scent of blood draws your attention back to the present, as Aleksander presses the pad of his thumb against your lips. Instantly, you open your mouth, allowing his thumb to press against your tongue. The tiny break in the skin there causes a casual flow of blood, just a taste. It’s the final nudge you need to fall asleep.
Aleksander would never let anything bad happen to you.
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
As soon as you see Alina, a lightness fills your chest and your mouth waters. She smiles at you, casting the book she was reading aside.
“Good morning,” she says, gesturing for you to join her. “Come here, little one.” As soon as you’re within arms reach, she pulls you into her lap and you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you get comfortable. Her own smile widens. “That’s my girl.” She brushes some hair away from your face. “Did you sleep well?”
You nod. The conversations you’ve had with them both have been brief. Stolen moments between your naps and feeding sessions when your mind clears enough for you to focus on your words.
“How long will I be like this?” you ask her.
She frowns, her hands rubbing casually down your sides.
“What do you mean, sweet girl?”
“I’m always tired, and hungry.”
She laughs, petting your hair fondly.
“I’d say around another week.” That makes you frown slightly, trying to grasp the concept of time and whether a week is long. Thinking becomes more difficult, as your mind latches onto the sound of Alina’s heart beating. She seems to notice. “Are you hungry now, my darling?”
You nod, whining for her. She reaches over to the table beside her, picking up a fruit knife from the plate where a half sliced apple is sitting. With her other hand, she loosens the ribbons at the front of her dress.
Slowly, she drags the blade across the top of her breast, at the point where her chest begins to soften. The cut is shallow, but blood soon blooms brightly and the sight of it draws you in.
“Go ahead. Drink your fill.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
one week later
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
It’s strange being out in sunlight. All the stories you’ve heard about vampires paint the image of a monstrous creature that belongs to the night. But the sun is gentle on your skin, shining cheerfully down on you.
Basket in hand, you follow Alina obediently as she pulls up potatoes from the garden. Her hands are muddy, as is her dress, but her eyes are bright as she relishes in the work. She hums a soft tune, a melody you’re familiar with but can’t quite identify.
It feels as though you’re seeing the world for the first time, staring up at the clear blue sky and smelling the rich dirt as a cool gust of wind strokes your cheeks. Birdsong echoes in the distance. The scent of flowers and greenery dances along the breeze.
Suddenly, you realise Alina has moved further down the patch at some point while you were distracted by an orange butterfly. Aleksander will be able to tell you what kind it is later.
“Feeling alright, sweet girl?” she asks, concern crinkling at her features. Quickly, you nod and head back towards her. “If you’re getting tired, we can go back inside?”
Immediately, you shake your head.
“No. I like being outside.”
She smiles softly, sweeping a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.
“I do too.”
Aleksander is sitting beneath a tree in the corner of the garden, a book in his lap that he soon replaces with your head. He strokes your forehead gently, fingertips smoothing down the length of your nose as your eyes flutter closed, unused to the bright light of the sun.
Alina sits down beside him, retrieving a ripe berry which she holds against your lips and you bite eagerly into the morsel. Yesterday, they had begun your slow reintroduction to solid food, and strawberries from the garden are currently your absolute favourite. Everything tastes better now, though not as delicious as their blood.
Aleksander picks up his book, reading the story aloud. Alina turns the page for him, when needed, so that he doesn’t have to let go of you. The three of you sit there in the sun, while they provide you with all the affectionate touches and strawberries they can give you.
