Tiktok Is Getting Banned, So I Need To Post Here Again >_

Flavor: Wild berry cheesecake

Toppings:

"will you stay the nigth" and "calling them in the middle of the nigth",

with Nikolai (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)♡

wild berry cheesecake order two — calliope’s confectionary

content. gn!reader. hurt/comfort (mostly fluff), cuddling. notes and translations at the end. not proofread. 1.2k+ words. ⟶ features nikolai gogol.

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The resident jester of the infamous Decay of Angels preferred to fill his day with entertainment—unprompted and unplanned, of course. No itinerary could tie him down. He would do whatever popped into his mind whenever it popped into his mind, whether it was a harmless prank or an egregious crime. His run-ins with the city's municipal police were stories he would treasure forever. They were such a fun group to mess with.

But after a trying day of freedom, or at least as much freedom as he had been able to achieve, he would settle at the highest point of the city, amongst the shadows of Yokohama's skyscrapers, eyeing the fast-moving cars below with only mild interest, the breeze blowing through him. A bird lured to slumber by the din surrounding it.

He was fidgeting with the knife in his hand with a yawn, having sliced a stolen piece of fresh fruit from a locked vendor stall, when his phone chimed with an obnoxious tune. It managed to startle him from his perch. He didn't have many contacts in his phone—just one, but one was all he needed. Without another beat, he answered the call, letting the sounds of the not-so-slumbering city melt away.

"Любий!" he exclaimed, taking a quick bite from the apple slices settled on his lap. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a call at this hour?"

"Hey, Коля." The static of the phone speaker was harsh, a testament to the many trials it had been put through, but even then, he would be a fool to miss the raspiness of your voice, as if you were moments away from breaking apart. It was unusual for you to call at such an hour since you were usually asleep. That, or you were slaving away on something for work—you were far too invested in your job for his taste.

"What's ruffled your feathers, зяблик?"

You sighed. "It's nothing."

"Nothing!" You could practically make out his exaggerated gestures through the phone. It almost made you smile.

"Well, I need to get my ears checked. Because if I didn't know any better, and I think I do," his cheerful voice melted into something sour, "I'd say you were about to cry."

You laughed, but it wasn't the light-hearted, unrestrained laugh he not-so-secretly adored and longed for. It was this heavy sound, despondent and frail, like all life had been drained from you. He wouldn't have been surprised if you had been crying and were just doing a somewhat decent job of covering it up. In any other scenario, he would be impressed.

"It's stupid."

"Oh, I highly doubt that." He hated when you said that. For there was nothing your captivating mind could dwell on that could ever be considered stupid. Not to him, at least. "And besides, you know I'll always take the opportunity to pick at your brain."

"It's just—" His face softened immensely at your defeated tone. "I just miss you."

His eyes widened. "Miss me," he uttered breathlessly, unable to believe the words yet knowing you would never lie to him. You could, easily so, but for some reason, he was sure you never would. He held the phone away from his face as if it would burn him if it got too close. His mind had created an echo chamber out of that little phrase, and he was too focused on ruminating to realize that he had yet to actually respond.

"Коля?"

He startled with a yelp. "Yes!"

"I know this is last minute, and you're free to say no, but…" he hung onto every word as you trailed off, trying to anticipate the next one with owlish fervor. His heart had picked up to an unbearingly fast pace, and he didn't know if he would survive another hit. "Will you stay the night with me?"

And there he was, out for the count—but he quickly recovered, jumping to his feet as he started to pace across the rooftop's platform, inching so daringly close to the edge that he would have fallen with another step. You always seemed to have such an effect on him.

"Of course! I'll be there in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" You voiced your confusion. "But doesn't your ability-?"

"Can't answer, gotta go, bye!"

And with a swoop of his coat, he disappeared into the night.

The knock on your door rang through your empty apartment, somehow making the silence that followed even louder. You had established a deal with Nikolai months ago that he had to enter through the front door after a particular incident when he walked in on you in the shower, and sometimes you regretted making such a ginormous deal out of that at the time. It took all your energy to get out of bed and drag yourself to the front door.

But you had forgotten the most essential motto when interacting with Nikolai—expect the unexpected. He held many items—snacks, candies, plushies, face masks, card games—and you had no clue how he carried it all in his arms. You wouldn't be surprised if even more were stored in his overcoat, and you tried not to think about how these items were retained.  He was practically bouncing at the seams, practically cooing at the sight of you. So disheveled and cute.

"I've got everything we need for the perfect sleepover!" He burst through the entryway without question, piling the stuff onto your formerly uncluttered countertops as some spilled to the floor. "Enough snacks to feed an army with some of those cute, slimy animal masks you buy from the one fancy store."

He whipped around with a grin. "Quiz time! What movie are we—"

You didn't realize it until he started to stare as you still stood at the doorway, but the dam behind your eyes had finally broken, and you just sobbed. The tears kept coming down as you tried to wipe them away, profusely apologizing for the emotional display under your breath, but it was to no avail as sobs continued to rack your body. Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your cheek, his expression contorted into uncharacteristic concern.

"You're crying."

You resisted the impulse to snark out a witty remark, smiling through your tears, laughing.

"I'm just happy to see you. That's all."

He softened, relieved to hear your authentication laughter, even when it came with such an unusual display. Without another thought, he brought you into his arms, and it felt so natural to burrow yourself into the warmth of his overcoat as he held you, humming an unfamiliar tune as he swayed back and forth, his presence bringing life back to your cold apartment.

"How about we watch that one movie, hm?" he hummed, pressing tickling kisses across your face. "The one with that man in the ridiculous shorts and long haircut."

You sniffed loudly, able to wipe away most of your tears. "Can we quote the wedding scene?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "You'll have to keep up with my performance, зяблик! Not that I doubt your abilities."

Your laughter was so delightful to hear. You both cuddled up on the couch for the rest of the night, watching bad American comedy films as you playfully quoted the stupidest lines. It didn't take long for you to doze off with a not-so-subtle snore, and he had to hold back the impulse to draw on your face, instead leaving a kiss on your forehead before snuggling in closer, ready to join you in sleep.

любий = darling зяблик = little bird

TAGLIST: @yonseibananamilk @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover @vnk91t @dazaisms @v4mpash3 @quaao @coffeeofsamu @chyozai @number1morihater @justcallmesakira @mxxny-lupin @little-miss-chaoss @himikoslove @osameowdazai @justanotherjester @thesilvernight0wl @deepseafragments @tirasamu @s1eepybunny @kelperspelt @squigglewigglewoo @lovesick-fairy @zyilas @ishqani @solandiss @imhandicapableofmath

i finally picked these requests back up! yes, i do intend to finish every single one of them, and hopefully i can wrap them up before the holiday season :D (p.s. if anyone can figure out the movie that i described at the end, you get a gold star.)

© MUSAMORA 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

🎭 FACES 🎭 ✦ NIKOLAI GOGOL

He is so silly and stupid i love him

a lil doodle dump for u all before i go to bed!!! i was in a doodling mood todaayy ☺️ my sketches r always a lil messy,,, forgive me for that eheh…🥲

sunday tragedy!!!

struggled with the background for this so much

tsujimura! *twinkle twinkle*

soft skin

content: fem!reader, fluff, vv sweet, slightly suggestive

synopsis: you see your boyfriend shirtless for the first time and of course, he doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease you about it.

"Nikolai! Guess what I just—"

It was like the oxygen had left the room the moment you saw him, your words abruptly cut off by a lack of breath.

Oh.

Oh.

Nikolai's bare back was the first thing your eyes landed on.

The room suddenly felt warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. You barely registered the book in your hand slipping out of your grasp and and landing on the floor with a soft thud as if incapable of handling the sight before you as much as your heart was.

The muscles in his back flex with every movement, drawing your gaze further down to where the fabric of his sweatpants dipped dangerously low on his waist. You swallow hard, trying to regain your composure before he eventually turns around and catches you in the act of staring.

But it's so difficult to abide by when the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window pours over him in an angelic glow, highlighting the curve of his spine as he turns to face you with a questioning look in his eyes and a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Hm?"

Nikolai clearly didn't expect the sudden intrusion, but he wasn't complaining about it either. In fact, he loves that you happened to walk into the room at such perfect timing.

You have to wonder if he's doing it on purpose—all to see your reaction, just to see the flustered look on your face that you know he takes so much pleasure in. You try to form words, but all that comes out is a soft gasp, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts when you watch beads of water drip from his loose hair onto his bare chest, rolling down his skin until they reach his v-line.

You don’t even realize you're staring as hard as you are until Nikolai clears his throat, jerking his head at you in a teasing gesture. Caught off guard, you quickly avert your gaze and try to compose yourself, but the flirtatious glint in Nikolai's eyes tells you he enjoys the attention far too much to let it slide, as expected.

“You’re staring real hard, pretty,” he drawls with a lazy grin, mismatched eyes filled with mischief roaming over your figure.

"Sorry," you apologize and try to leave the room as quickly as you could to avoid any impending teasy remarks, but you suppose you were too slow for him because you already found yourself entrapped by a pair of strong arms.

"You're not going anywhere just yet," Nikolai murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he pulls you closer. Yeah, you're not sure what demon possessed you for a second to make you believe he would let you get away from him so easily—you would end up like this either way, whether you stayed in the room or not. "What did you want to ask me, sweet dove?" he asks as his arms snake themselves under your arms and around your waist.

The closeness sends a shudder to channel through your entire body. "Nothing important anymore," you hum and close your eyes, secretly relishing in the contact.

He laughs and ruffles your hair before placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Oh come on," he insists, fingers deftly moving some of your hair aside as if parting curtains to let in sunlight, keen to get a better look at your flustered face. "Tell me?"

With a hint of reluctance, your shy eyes open to finally meet his. "I finished the book I was reading.. you know, the one I told you about."

His eyes light up with an excitement that makes your heart flutter. "That means you have to tell me all about it now!" he pries eagerly, genuinely interested in hearing your opinion.

"I can't," you mumble, the words tinged with timidity.

His lips stick out into an exaggerated pout, feigning hurt, resembling a kicked puppy. "Why?" he asks with a dramatic flair.

You feel embarrassed to be in this position, your back flush against his chest as his arms squeeze your frame like you're his personal stuffed animal. He dips his head, leaning in to get closer to your face. "Too distracted?" he asks, his voice low and sultry, rich like velvet.

"Something like that," you admit, nodding shamefully while feeling the heat on your cheeks deepening as his lips graze over the shell of your ear. "Maybe a little."

"Look at me," he tells you, fingers grabbing hold of your chin gently to tilt your face upwards to make you look up at him. His voice is sweet but also firm, one full of power. "I want you to focus on me," he says, his eyes locking with yours. "I want to be the only thing on your mind right now."

His eyes are so intense and love-filled, making it nearly impossible to part gazes. Out of all things, this wasn't something that you ever expected from him when you two started dating, though you suppose you're not exactly sure what you ever expected.

However, there is one thing that you are sure of and expect nothing less of from him—him and his new ways that, without fail, always keep you on your toes.

"You don't have to be so shy," he giggles before spinning you around to face him this time, drawing you impossibly closer. All you experience is Nikolai—every sense overwhelmed and full of only him. He'd just hopped out of the shower, so his skin is still slightly damp, and the freshly applied lotion on his skin smells so good. A combination of the fragrance entwining with his natural scent fills your head with delightful dizziness, your cheeks warming up from both the contact and how you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

Your eyes are fluttering shut again yet they aren't quite closed, lashes barely brushing the tops of your cheeks. As you inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself while reveling in this closeness, Nikolai chuckles softly as his arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace, practically smothering your face with his chest.

"You're allowed to look at me, you know," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. "Look at me, touch me." He tenderly takes one of your hands in his, kissing your palm ever so softly before placing it on the upper portion of his chest, slowly moving it downwards, almost guiding you in a way where he wants to feel your touch, an invitation of sorts. "Do whatever you want to me."

The sheer vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart, making you realize just how much he trusts you—a trust that deepens with every touch and melding of skins. It's overwhelming yet euphoric, the feeling of intimacy that grows and further solidifies your bond as you trace every inch of his body with your fingertips. His skin is incredibly soft as you run your fingers over his body, smoothness occasionally interrupted by the roughness of his scars that you'd only ever felt under the fabric of his clothing—but you adore all of him, even the rough parts. You run your knuckles along his sides, eliciting goosebumps to rise on his skin, warmth radiating from him to you like a gentle current.

His other hand travels from your waist to cradle your cheek, packed with all the care in the world that it almost makes your heart skip a steady beat. "Are you charmed by me yet?"

"You don't even have to try.." you huff out in embarrassment. A bead of water drips from his damp bangs onto your nose, causing a small shiver to course through you from the chill. "Aren't you cold?" you ask him, voice becoming whispery as you melt into his embrace.

His arms tighten around you, a small smile tugging on his lips at your question. "How can I be cold when you're right here?" he replies with nonchalance as if the answer couldn't be more obvious, using his thumb to wipe the water off your nose, replacing it with a gentle kiss to seal the moment altogether.

hihi thank u for reading. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

who are you really

I suddenly get crazy when i re-read all your dad!kolya short fic, i remember you said that since there's the kids in the house, nikolai and mama would be having sex in the bedroom or bathroom when they shower together DAMNNNNNN imagine he would carry you up and slam you onto the wall while the shower still on? Sex with dad!kolya would be hm hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

𝙙𝙖𝙙!𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚.𝙭

notes ✥ happy new year. here's a porn for starters. unedited! un-proofread! i'm sick and my hands slipped and i wrote dick n balls

contents ✥ fem!reader, kolya and you are hubby and wifey, shower se.x, oc kids make small appearance

“Kolya—”

A loud gasp. Your back arches as your husband presses the pad of his fingers harder on your clit, rubbing it skillfully. Your thighs tremble as your back is peppered with warm kisses—his tongue slithers against your skin, licking the droplets of the hot shower raining on both of your naked bodies. 

“One more, baby, one more,” Nikolai whispers against your ear, grinding his cock on your ass. “Do you feel how hard I am, sweetheart? You wan’ it, yeah?”

“Mm-hm,”

“Gotta stretch you reeeal nice first,” He groans lowly, inserting two fingers into your cunt. Your legs jerk, one of them lifts at the sensation of his fingers scissoring your cunt—both of his fingers make a wavy motion against the spot, causing your moan to grow louder. 

“N-Nikolai— Haa—! A-Ah—” 

You are panting hard beneath his palm that he pressed against your mouth. “Slowly, sweet thing. You're gonna scare the kids.” He chuckles breathily as his fingers move faster, plunging in and out. Your eyes roll back, hands gripping his beefy arms that are tightly holding you against his naked, firm body. Your mouth is gagged with another of his hands as he pulls your head to lean against his shoulder. 

He tilts his head, smirking, cackling with that deep voice of his. For a moment, his words come out accented—“My pretty fucking wife, aww~” He teases as he watches your muffled moan and body trembles against him. You are close, so so close. Your hand flings to your breast, fondling it and teasing your own hard nipple. 

Your pussy clenches hard around his thick fingers as your hips roll against his palm, but Nikolai withdraws before you reach your climax. A whine leaves your mouth but quickly changes to a surprised yelp when Nikolai turns your body, hooks both of his arms under your thighs and lifts you too easily. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms clinging to him as you press your lips against his, sharing a sloppy kiss. 

He aligns his cock against your pussy, tapping its head against your sensitive clit. You whine between the kiss, receiving a chuckle from him. Your eyes gaze at his face—water dripping from his white hair, his skin is blushing red. 

“Kolya..!” You whine against his lips, kissing him again. “Fuck me, please,” You beg as your hands roam on his chest, brushing against his nipples, which causes him to hiss in pleasure. 

“As you wish, wife.” Nikolai says before he pushes himself into your heated cunt. You gasp and his head is thrown back. “O-Ooh, fuck…” He moans and leaves no time to start thrusting as his lust is heightened. Your hips roll slightly against him, mewling in pleasure as his mouth latches on your neck, sucking the skin. 

Both of you are moving in harmony, with your moans and his whimpers grow louder as he thrusts harder and harder. His cock is hard—thickly filling you, pleasuring every nerve in your pussy. You lean your head, chanting his name as your legs jerk, hugging his waist tightly as you cum around his girth.

Nikolai moans, adjusting his arms under your legs as he snaps his hips rougher—the slapping sound echoes loud in the bathroom. Your cunt is sensitive and your eyes are teary as the coil in your stomach tightens again. You whine loudly, using your own hand to rub your clit, urging him to go harder.

Until, your lust is interrupted with a loud crash and girly scream from outside. You can barely hear it but you swear you hear Yuri is calling for Mari and the sister is threatening Karol and the youngest is laughing naughtily. 

Between the haze of your love-making, you try to call for your husband who is lowering his head to suck on your tits. His mouth catches your nipple, tongue rolling on the sensitive bud. You whimper slowly, trying to control your voice. With your trembling hand, you reach Nikolai’s hair, trying to get his attention. 

“Nikolai— Mmh!”

Your voice is interrupted by a sudden hard thrust and a palm on your mouth. Your eyes roll back as Nikolai continues to thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit, burying his dick as deep as he can, drawing pleasures to your nerves. He gives a long lick from your neck to your jaw and then to your ear. 

“Let the kids be. I wanna have fun with my wife for a moment.”

©doukeshi-kun 2025 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @/cherikolya

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5: ᴅᴇꜱɪᴅᴇʀᴀᴛᴜᴍ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: past abuse, violence, psychological drama, angst, light fluff, mature content, very suggestive | words: 6.5k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

Unknown place, many years ago.

The bus was late.

You sat alone on the bench at the bus stop, eyes watching the people in the park just across the street—a group of friends which you recognised to be from your school as well. They were having their time together, joking around, being loud, uncaring of how the others perceived them—in this case, no one really was looking at them other than you.

How lucky.

You had forgotten what it felt like to have such a tight group bonded together. Sure, you knew a lot of people—but they were never reaching beyond your line, always staying where they would be considered as colleagues or schoolmates.

You wondered how fun it would be to experience such things. Do they have a group chat only with them? Do they go out every weekend to catch up with each other? Do they know each other's parents? How many secrets do they know about each other?

How do they even make friends?

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to remember that you possessed no smartphone of your own. Your father did not allow it—as he did not want to pay for your internet services. Besides, there were more traditional ways that can you do to achieve so many great things—or at least that's what he told you to kill your small ounce of hope.

The bus arrived.

You got into it and tapped the metro card you hardly tried to get. But you still needed to top up the amount of the card and that just meant you had to work more hours tomorrow in the local convenience store.

You took a seat and once again, you observed your surroundings. You saw a pair of father and daughter sitting in the row next to you, just a few seats ahead. The daughter was chattering—something about a new bookshop she wanted to visit, and the father was nodding and listening intently, with a soft smile on his face.

Annoyance somehow was boiling in you.

You did not realise you had been clenching your skirt as you watched their interactions. And when you turned away, your eyes were fixed on the small television on the bus. It was broadcasting a mourning event for government officials in Yokohama, Japan who were mass-murdered brutally by a terrorist a few years ago. It seemed that the government officials were cut in half with some kind of circular saw.

Scary world we live in… But it must be nice to have people mourn for you.

The ride on the bus took about fifteen minutes and you walked for another five minutes to finally get to your house. You opened the door, entering the house after you took off your shoes.

“I'm back.”

You saw the sight of your father getting ready in the living room. He was wearing his watch, looking somewhat fancy.

“Are you going out?” You asked but he said nothing other than reaching for his keys and wallet. He was going out indeed. He looked like he was going to have a formal meeting with someone and perhaps it was far away because you saw him taking a backpack from the couch.

Why do you always leave me alone?

“Where are you going? Can I come?” Again, no answer. He only glared at you and you already flinched, shutting your mouth before something else got thrown in your direction. You silently made your way to your room, but you paused when you passed by the calendar.

You turned to your father who was wearing his boots. Gulping nervously, you opened your mouth, asking, “Today's mom's birthday,” He was already sighing and standing up. “Could we—”

Your words were halted when your father stomped towards you, grabbing you by your hair. He yanked your head, shouting things you could barely process due to the shock.

“SHUT UP! Can't you just shut the fuck up! Stop asking so fucking much, stupid bitch!”

You shriek, trying to get away from his hold. He shook your head by your hair roughly before shoving you back, causing your head to bump against the wall hard. You winced, holding your spinning head.

“I was just asking about mom! She was your wife! Don't you care?”

“I fucking don't! It's been fucking years and you're still being a fucking child!” He shouted before he angrily turned away to leave the house. “I'm not gonna be back for a few days. You make sure this house is clean or I'll fucking sell you, bitch. If only that's possible because nobody wants your worthless ass!”

The door slammed closed. Your lips quivered.

Tears did not come out. There were no more of them left.

You slowly nodded to your gone father—he would not see it but you just felt the need to respond to his command. You quietly got to your room.

It was great to be alone—you now were left with a bit of freedom. Solitude, after all, is your closest friend.

Today was your mother's birthday. Perhaps you could make a run to the convenience store you currently work at—usually they have those staff discounts—to buy some sweet foods.

Your mother loved sweet foods. Or so you thought. Your memories of her had become clouded and you did not know which one was real or unreal, for your brain might as well have created fake memories to fill in your desire to experience such joy again.

You did not even remember how and why she died.

But it did not stop you from celebrating her birthday and mourning for her. Wouldn't it be lonely to have no one mourning for you? You could not just imagine how scary it is to be so lonely after death—and to have no one to mourn you, it would be a crueller punishment.

You truly pray you will not be lonely—but it seems inevitable at this point in time.

You got to your room, ignoring the lingering pain on your scalp due to your father's pull on your hair. You put your school bag on the floor and open your closet to get your savings box. But your face ashened when you noticed the clothes were all messy and unorganised. You dug your arms into the closet, reaching for the savings box.

Light.

You opened it—empty.

— ♡

“Yeah, I'll wait at the usual place. Okay, 4AM. As usual, yeah.” Nikolai says with a low voice, a phone is held close to his ear. He occasionally takes a peek at the living room, making sure you are not doing anything stupid.

“Is there any update about this girl, Vik? It's been like a week now.” He asks and he hears Viktor sighing from the other side.

“Not at all, bro. I've sent messages to the loan sharks and they only say that they're still working on their part. My best guess is that they are actively trying to figure out where her dad is before using her as a hostage. ” Viktor replies with a grunt. “Have you asked her about her daddy again? Maybe she tells ya? ”

Nikolai purses his lips. It has been a week after he abducted you and the only time he had asked about your father's whereabouts was in the first few hours you woke up from your soundful sleep. He actually has not asked you more about it, not even when the chance presented itself. Matter of fact, he does not even remember thinking about asking you whenever the chance presents itself.

Has he gotten soft over you? No… No, that's impossible. Nikolai would not let himself be vulnerable again. He would not let a small fracture for anyone to see through him. He has learnt that the hardest way already. And he will not repeat it again.

But it feels like your fingers are digging in that fracture, prying, clawing, creaking open his heart—those innocent gazes are the devil, he thinks.

“Kolyushka?”

“Huh? O-Oh. Right, yeah… about that… Uh, she doesn't tell me…” Nikolai quickly says. Viktor hums suspiciously and Nikolai already dislikes the tone in his voice. He tries to compose himself. A single thought about you has his mind wobble and the grip he has on his ideal is starting to loosen.

“She doesn't tell you… or you didn't ask her? ”

“She doesn't tell me.” Too quick to lie.

“Right… Uh-huh. Something tells me that you two—”

“Wait.” Nikolai is about to respond to him but his word is stuck in his throat when he catches an array of smacking noises coming from the living room. “I'll talk to you later.” He says shortly to Viktor before ending the call abruptly. Nikolai rushes to the living room, stomping.

“What are you doing?”

He sees that you are smacking the broken television multiple times as you rapidly press the buttons on the remote control. Nikolai gets to you, purposely groaning loudly in annoyance. He wraps his hands around your body, pulling you back. His nose takes a short whiff of your scent—it is already getting similar to him due to you using his soap and shampoo.

If you are his lover, he would tackle you right there and then.

“Fuck.” He takes a short breath. Now really is not the time to think with his dick. “Get up. You crawl from that fucking couch just to smack this TV?” He says as he yanks you and practically drags you back to the couch. You whine at the force of his rough hold and the straining rope around your ankles.

Turning your head to him, you pout. Your hands are on his strong arms and your newly polished baby-blue nails are grazing lightly against his skin. Nikolai swallows nervously before he shuts away his thoughts and tosses you onto the couch.

It has always been like that for the past several days. You can sleep and wake up whenever you like, eat whatever Nikolai gives to you for lunch, clean yourself while he guards the door and for the rest of the day up until past dinner, you are just sitting in the living room with your ankles bound to the couch leg, accompanied with little entertainment Nikolai provided for you. Old books, old magazines and outdated newspapers. And oftentimes, you are just chattering with him and him only.

“I am bored! I have read most of these… old reading materials you gave me.” You complain, trying to raise your body for whatever agenda you have in mind. Nikolai frowns, lightly tapping your cheek as he pushes you to sit on the couch. He holds your shoulder, pinning you to lean back as he towers over you.

“Know your place, little doll. There's nothing here to satisfy all your demands.”

Your shoulders drop in disappointment, but your eyes are lingering on him for too long—and Nikolai notices that. He has been noticing the way you look at him and he hates it. He hates the way you observe and stare at him, especially the way you say his name.

No, he is not denying anything. He wants to convince himself that this is a trick. It must be. It must be, it must! His heart will not betray him anymore, will it?

“… Sit there.” He commands and you nod slowly. Nikolai purses his lips and sits on the floor instead. He takes out his phone and texts someone mysterious as you only watch him quietly.

“You are always on your phone… What are you up to?” You ask and he only glances at you. He knows that ignoring you would just spike up your curiosity. Every question you bring up will end up with a full-on conversation. Even if he looks away, a sweet call of his name is enough to make his irises slide towards you.

He does not really have anyone else to talk to other than Viktor. Even so, he does not trust Viktor one hundred percent. He does not trust others as well. Nikolai is an avid liar—a trait he still keeps as long as he remembers. He lies so much that he distrusts so much.

“I have a job, darling. How do you think I can still afford shit in this economy?” He replies. You open your mouth to say something but Nikolai raises his hand, stopping you. “I know what you want to ask. What exactly is my job, right? I do dirty work. Including… this.” He grabs your ankle, nudging it up before he drops it.

“Is it rewarding?”

“Depends.”

“What's the most expensive one you have ever gotten paid for?”

“Eating humans.”

You gasp and shake your head. “That's… not funny…”

Nikolai scoffs—a smirk curves on his lips as his thumb slides around his phone screen again. “You don't wanna know, dolly. If all of my crimes were actually presented during my trial, I would get a death sentence. But, luck was on my side. Sort of. The laws have been so weird.”

You are not saying anything back and Nikolai's eyes trail up to you. And he takes a moment to appreciate your appearance—you are wearing your baby blue dress again today after days of wearing his clothes to compensate for your lack of clothing. When you sit, the hem of the skirt is just short enough to reveal more of your thighs.

Cute.

No. No no no, I did not think that. Not again. Not again.

“I find it weird.” You suddenly say.

“What weird, darling?” He asks back and he swears he could hear your little flustered noise which you submerge desperately with a small cough. He holds himself back from smiling but quickly straightens his expression—God, how he dislikes how easily his lips curve.

“Uhm… Well, you have been doing dirty jobs for a while after you got out of prison… But you aren't caught again. And… when you said 'If all of my crimes were actually presented', does that mean you were convicted because of a few crimes?” You ask, leaning towards him. Closer, closer, closer that you might as well rest your head against his arm. Nikolai squints his eyes—aren't you supposed to be afraid of him? You are getting too comfortable to be so close to him right now.

“Obviously.”

“But, see, see! That doesn't make sense, no?” You are getting a little too enthusiastic about this topic, clasping your hands together. “You are roaming freely in this country, because you leave no trail of your crimes, right? I'm sure you are! I mean, you are very skilled.” You say with a strange admiration. “Surely, you are very careful to not leave shreds of evidence of your crimes so the police won't get you. But how did the police manage to arrest and convict you for a few of your crimes? It's hard to believe that you would be careless like that.”

Nikolai's throat is getting drier—his heart is tugging downwards as his mind is expecting a lot of bad things that you are about to say.

“Were you really careless?” You mutter, as if it is a question to yourself instead of him. “Or was it because of someone else? Did you work alone before prison? Or did you have a friend—”

Friend.

“SHUT UP!”

You physically flinch and your smile drops instantly, only to be thundered with a strike of fear in a matter of seconds. Your hands automatically raise to shield yourself—as if a manifestation of anger is about to hit you.

But Nikolai is pale.

His tongue is numb and his eyes are shaking—not because of anger, but the pang of a certain realisation that he was attuned too well is returning to eat his heart alive. The fangs of that old instinct are tearing it. It grows and grows, and once, it has managed to devour him whole.

I thought I had abandoned it.

Guilt.

“I'm sorry.”

Sorry? For what? Why? This isn't supposed to happen. This is NOT how I want to be. She is scared of me now, isn't that a good thing? That is what she is supposed to do. She is supposed to be scared of me, fear me, dread me. There is no need for an apology or a mea culpa.

“No, I'm not sorry— Wait, no. No, I am. I am. I… I don't… I mean, I'm…”

He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “Fuck me.”

In less than ten seconds, Nikolai grabs his keys on the coffee table and his coat that is hanging on a row of hooks by the door. He leaves the house, without even sparing a look at you, without even another word to you. He knows he is not a good actor by now—and you can definitely read his face if he turns to you. He shuts the door, hoping he can shut away his guilt and you altogether.

His heart will get devoured more if he sees your face.

— ♡

“Kolya, are you not going home?”

Nikolai looks up from the folds of his arms, turning to Olga who serves him a cup of water. He has been in the diner since evening and now it has reached past 11PM, the time when the diner is officially closed. But Olga has not kicked him out yet.

“Uh… I am.” He says as he takes the water and drinks it. Olga shakes her head, resting her hands on her waist.

“Did you argue with your girlfriend?” Nikolai clicks his tongue in annoyance and gives back the cup to Olga.

“No, she's not… my girlfriend. Stop saying that.” He sighs. Olga tilts her head, and one eyebrow perks up.

“Do you swing that way?”

“I swing in multiple ways.”

“I see. Well, maybe you could swing out of my restaurant as well because I want to go home now.” She taps the table in dissatisfaction. “You have been sitting at the table in the corner, sleeping and asking for more vodka after your fourth cup. I hope you are not too drunk to drive.” She says.

“Nope, I got this. I got this.” He says as he stands up, stretching himself with a groan. Olga scrunches her face and just flat out her palm, asking for his payment. Nikolai grumbles under his breath as he takes out several crumpled notes he does not bother to count and places them on Olga's palm. “Geez, give me some slacks already.”

“I'm poor too, Kolya. I can't treat you all the time.” She says before she gestures her head towards the door. “Now, go home and reconcile with her.”

“I am not arguing with her.” Nikolai pouts but he leaves the diner regardless. The night is darker, approaching midnight. The snow is falling slowly, forming some icy clouds on his head. They are not heavy but it is still cold. Nikolai gets to his car quickly and checks his phone one last time before driving home.

Every step he takes to get to his unit is heavy. As he gets closer to the door, the desire to turn around and sleep in the car instead is getting stronger as well. Nikolai does not like how his chest feels right now—so tight, so caging. He is well aware of his own head and for the umpteenth time, he wishes he would never be gifted with this kind of mind.

“It's okay. Just ignore. Just ignore her.” He whispers to himself as he opens the door and enters his house. The whole interior is dark. The lights are not turned on at all.

He does not see you though.

Nikolai takes off his boots and he treads slowly further into the living room. Then he finally sees you, lying on the same couch, sleeping. He moves around the couch, noticing that your legs are still tied. He unsettles.

He realises he left you bound to the couch like this, for a lot of hours, in the dark alone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am fucked.

“Hey, doll…” He kneels beside you by the couch and calls for you softly. His shivering hand traces your chilly arm and he can definitely feel the subtle trembling from you. He shakes your body slowly, attempting to wake you up.

“Mmh…” You mewl but you are not opening your eyes. He decides that it is not the best time to bother you anymore so Nikolai quickly unties your ankles and carefully places both of his hands under your knees and back. He swoops you up and walks into the bedroom. He puts you on the bed and covers you with his slightly torn blanket.

His hand rests on your waist as he stares deeply into your face. His fingers are itching to hold you—and they are clenching on your waist as his hand trails to your hip before it moves up slowly. Very slowly, as if he is trying to feel the way your side curves. His hand then rests on your head. Something is pulling the strings of his fingers, urging him to caress your head. But he pulls away quickly.

He leaves the room, back to his new sleeping place.

— ♡

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Nikolai's eyes jerk open when his ears catch the sound of his alarm going off. He groans at the pain in his back after laying on the uncomfortable hard couch for hours. He squirms—and even his movement is too limited. The couch is small and he is such a tall man—his legs are propped up on the armrest of the couch.

“Good morning.”

Nikolai turns his head to the side, jumping slightly when he sees you are kneeling by the couch, facing him. You are wearing one of his bomber jackets over your baby blue dress and he does not even want to question that anymore.

“M'rning.”

You give him a small smile and Nikolai wonders if you want to talk about his outburst yesterday. Or do you want to pretend that nothing happened? Because if that is the case, Nikolai would gladly take the chance. He does not want to talk about it at this moment.

He gets up, groaning while he is at it. His shirt is crumpled and he feels very uncomfortable. He leans to take his phone and looks at the time—8:06AM.

“You woke up early,” Nikolai says to you as you move to sit on the couch beside him.

“I was very hungry. So I helped myself.”

Guilt. Again.

“Right… Right, glad that you're… uhm… independent.” He says, rubbing his face and hiding it behind his palm. He sighs internally but not for long when he feels a tug on his arm. He turns to you.

“I made you breakfast too. As… As for my apology for being too invasive yesterday… I'm really sorry.”

Well, shit. Now I have to talk about it, huh?

Nikolai does not plan to apologise back to you. His outburst is justified. And he does not owe you anything—even a shimmer of kindness. Yes, yes, no need to be sorry about it—he is supposed to be mean and you are supposed to dread him. He is your captor and you are his temporary property to be traded to greater greatness. There is no need for sympathy.

“I'm sorry too.”

“Hm?”

He wishes he was dead.

Oh, dear me, why haven't you killed yourself when you had the chance in prison?

He wants to protest—he desires to tell you that he does not mean any of his words. This chord of apology does not come from him. He wants to make it clear to you about that, and yet, he knows he is convincing himself to another fruitlessness.

Nikolai does feel sorry.

Why do you lie to yourself? Again? —His head mocks. Mockery. Jittery. Pathetically judging his own heart he somehow is holding a sense of humanity he wishes to cast away.

“Apology accepted,” You say with a nice smile—the smile that comes from a naive heart that blinds themselves from perceiving gloom. Or perhaps you did see his gloom, which is why you accepted his awkward apology. “Now we are even, right?” You add as your hand carefully touches his.

“Yeah… I suppose so.” Nikolai swallows nervously. His chest tightens as if his heart is trying to make a flip out of his system. He pulls away his hand from you swiftly before he looks at you, scanning your figure from head to toe. And he now realises that you have been moving freely in the house when you are supposed to be in bed.

“How are you walking around? Did you—?” He bends and grips your ankle. No sign of a broken rope or anything.

“Uh… You didn't tie me last night…”

“I didn't?”

“Mm-hmm…” You nod adorably before you sheepishly say, “And… I wanna say thank you for carrying me to the bed—”

“Keep that away, I'm not gonna hear it.” Nikolai stops you immediately. If you sweetly appreciate him verbally again, he will have a harder time following his logic. “I'm gonna… take a bath before breakfast…” He says as he gets up. Your eyes follow him—like a curious cat and he only curses to himself when he finds himself staring into your irises longer than they should.

“I'll wait for you.” You say, smiling at him. You keep throwing sugars at him—Nikolai despises it.

He says nothing and leaves you alone on the couch.

— ♡

“Is it good?”

“Decent. Can't beat Olga though.”

“Well, we don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

“We? You're in my house, doll. Know your place.”

“Mm-hm. You don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

Nikolai snickers as he sips his water. He reaches for his phone at his side and scrolls the screen again. You observe him carefully, curiosity perks up when you notice he gets more serious when he spends his time on his phone.

“Why are you always on your phone?” You ask.

“I do all my work on this phone. I invested a lot in this device and gladly it worked better for me than having a complete computer set. This house will crumble if I ever get a computer. The tenant is stingy with electricity.” Nikolai replies before he puts away his phone to eat peacefully. You tilt your head—this behaviour of being tightwad to one's self reminds you of someone.

“You said my father is a cheapskate but you're kinda like one…”

Nikolai clicks his tongue at your comment. “At least I spent my money on your ass without you having to work your ass off.” He grunts and you chuckle. Upon hearing your chuckle, Nikolai could not help but smile as well—what a symphony, he thinks. However, he does attempt to hide his smile by stuffing more bread into his mouth.

“That means you're better than my father, then.” Your grin but a shadow of disappointment is casting over your face. Your grin falters as you stare at the table. “Well, that is… ironic, isn't it? My father does not even want to lend his jacket to me when it's cold… What's his is his, and what's mine is his.”

You look at him but Nikolai is just fixated on the plate, as if he does not even want to look back at you. But your piercing gaze on him does not go unnoticed. In fact, you staying silent when staring at him makes him feel more uneasy.

“Honestly, I don't know what I did for my father to treat me like that. I thought he blamed me for my mom's death but he doesn't care about her birthday either. So I don't get why he did things to me…” You say, slowly. Even though Nikolai is not looking, you have the strongest feeling that he is listening intently to you.

“You know, yesterday… Yesterday, when you told me to shut up, I truly thought you were about to hit me and pull my hair and slam me to the wall… Like he often did. Those thoughts were instant. I had a hard time trying to get rid of it even after you left. And… And then I was stuck in the dark for hours because my ankles were tied to the couch. I couldn't move to reach the switches.” You take a deep breath. “It was so scary. I hated it. But the dark isn't the worst thing. It's the solitude. I hated being alone the most and somehow… Somehow I feel like I am always with the thing I hate the most.”

Your hand is mindlessly stirring your hot tea in a plastic cup. You press your lips together before continuing with a solemn smile, “My life is pretty boring. I am a bit envious that you have an interesting background for yourself. You have a tale to tell. And I… Well, I don't even have a story to tell about myself… It always somehow circles back to my father. I don't even think my life is about me at this point.”

Your lips quiver as you find your chest beginning to tremble—a sob is about to burst out of your throat. You quickly sip your tea, swallowing and burying your sobs away although your eyes are already brimming with tears—it is only a matter of time before the droplets stain your cheeks.

“Sorry— I'm just… getting emotional.”

“If you aren't interesting enough, you won't get kidnapped. This whole thing is gonna be your own tale.”

You sniffle and look up at Nikolai. He is gazing back at you with an unreadable expression. You try to form a smile, although you are thinking hard about what he meant by that. He looks troubled and his eyes rapidly avoid yours. But his mouth seems to have a mind on its own.

“Like… Not everyone can tell a story about how they got kidnapped and lived with their kidnapper for days. And, and, and you know, have you thought about how many people can say 'I share clothes with my kidnapper' or 'I eat dinner with my captor every night' like, like that's fuckin' ridiculous, right? Fuck, what the hell am I saying…” He grumbles lowly, palming his face. But his ramble does bring a faint smile to your face.

“Y-Yeah… Maybe you're right.” You say defeatedly but the fact that Nikolai does listen to your chatter solaces your heart—reciprocating a longing in you.

“Right… Yea, so… uh… don't cry… Yeah, don't cry. You sound like a squeaky duck.” He says as his lips form a thin line. “Or whatever. I don't care.” Nikolai is anxious, you can see. He awkwardly gathers his dish and cup before going to the sink.

You only watch him washing the dishes and the pan you used—you left them there, planning to wash them later yourself. But Nikolai does it instead without any complaints. You expect he would give you an earful about your mess.

You notice how he does not raise his voice at you at all today. Does he feel guilty about yesterday still? You do want to ask about his confusion and short rambles when he 'accidentally' says sorry to you right after he shouted at you.

Come to think of it, you have been observing him for a while now. You take notes of his subtle quirks and you do notice a certain similarity in some of his expressions with his confused apology yesterday.

Conflict.

Nikolai sometimes looks conflicted about things.

Annoyance is quite easy to detect—it is evident in his tone. But when he is conflicted, his eyes bear no anger or irritation. Rather, he looks lost. Too lost. As if he is thinking a lot of things at once. As if he has many voices in his head talking to him at once. As if a lot of invisible hands are trying to reach him at once.

“I know I tell a lot of things about myself…” You speak and he turns his head to you. “I just find it easy to talk to you. I like talking to you and I like hearing you talk as well… I would like to know more about you.” You smile cutely.

“Might as well, might as well. Maybe then you'll fear me properly like a captive would.” Nikolai snorts before he continues cleaning the dishes as fast as he can. He finishes the task after three minutes and he goes to dry his hands with a napkin.

The heaviness that loomed earlier is lifted—the air is no longer tense. You open your mouth to converse more about your curiosity about your kidnapper, only for him to suddenly pull your arm, forcing you to stand up. As soon as you stand, he wraps his arm around your torso, holding you close and tight. Nikolai says nothing other than dragging you out of the kitchen and to the bedroom.

“Hm?”

“I'm going out. Got a job to do. You're gonna stay here, tied. I'm not taking risk.”

His sudden roughness triggers your fight-or-flight. You harden your footing and Nikolai looks at you, shocked actually. He stops and you nervously ask, “W-Wait, Nikolai… C-Can I come with you? I-I don't wanna be alo—”

“No, you can't and you will stay here with food and warmth. I'm not tolerating your demands. This is an important job.” He cuts you off, yanking your body. You yelp at his force and you whine, struggling against him—whining, whimpering. But he is not even affected by your thrashing as he drags you to the bed. He pushes you to sit.

Nikolai sighs as he stands right in front of you, looking down at your pleading gaze. Your pouty lips are muttering his name as your hand is tugging on his shirt. He inhales deeply and has to look away—as your hand is just too close to his belt.

Mind is going wild. Your pleading eyes and the way you beg for his sympathy are tickling a side he has put away when he thought his lust was nothing but a hindrance. Lust is so unimportant, he thought, but now he has an intense desire to satisfy it.

“Hey, Kolya! Don't just leave me!” You whine, tugging on his shirt again and again, causing his body to sway forward and closer to you. Nikolai feels his heart beating faster when he leers at you. He can feel his face getting immersed with crimson when his eyes—like a magnet—trail down to gaze on your chest and then thighs. You are not even wearing your white stockings along with your dress today and the lower part of the dress is already short enough. Even if he closes his eyes, he already sees the lines of the dress. Even if he closes his eyes, he can already imagine you. And his hand is still blazing with the memory of when you placed it on your thigh at the laundrette a few days ago.

Days—and he still wants to touch it, feel it in his hands.

Touch it, hold it, kiss it.

“Nikolai..! Don't just ignore me!” You speak again, seizing him out of his mind, but not too far out since he is partially thinking with his dick now. Nikolai sighs and stares into your eyes, trying his best to not pervertedly look at your body any further.

“No, doll. I won't let you out in the public's eyes.”

“But you know that I don't like being alone…”

“And you don't know what I'm dealing with internally, doll.” He mumbles, holding both of your wrists with each of his hands.

“Then tell me. Aren't we—” You gulp, searching for his eyes. You bring your hands closer to your chest, unintentionally making Nikolai's hands closer as well. He bites his lips and mutters your name slowly in frustration.

“Aren't we friends already?”

“Stop. Please, just stop.” Nikolai groans and jerks his hands away from you. He sighs loudly, repeatedly saying 'Fuck, fuck, fuck' under his breath. He groans once again with his hands resting on his neck. He is clearly very agitated and unfortunately, he could not hurtle out that agitation other than letting it boil in his head—you can see that.

And he is also conflicted.

He takes a long inhale and throws his hands into the air. “Fine. Fine, you know what. Sure, you can come. I'll bring you with me.” He says and you gasp delightedly. Nikolai turns to his closet, rummaging to find something in it. He also takes the chance to wear a black coat over himself.

“R-Really? I'm coming as well? Then… Then I should get ready too, right?”

“Wait a second. I need to give you something. This job is dangerous and you really need this.” He says, though, his tone does not sound right. It is mischievous somehow, mixed with a good pour of sarcasm and deceit. But perhaps it is just your imagination—you do tend to overthink your observation as well.

“Okay… I'll wait.” You reply and sit nicely on the bed as you watch him. Nikolai then turns to you, with a white napkin in his hand.

Oh.

You certainly remember that very napkin. The one that he used to force you to inhale chemicals that knocked you out. Your face pales as you scoot back on the bed.

“Niko— Mmh!”

Without even having a second to react, Nikolai already presses the napkin onto your nose and mouth. One of his knees is on the bed, putting weight as he pushes you to lie down on the mattress. You are frantic but you feel his hand pressing down hard on your neck, blocking your airway to force you to breathe through the inhalation drug.

“Shh, shh, be nice, dolly. Be nice.”

Through your gradually blurry vision, you see Nikolai hovering over you and you are beneath him. Your hands are gripping his arms, nails clawing on his tattoos. Your body arches as you find it harder to breathe. You try to shake your head, but it is futile when Nikolai presses harder, receiving a painful whine out of your throat.

You find your body getting weaker and limp. Your legs jerk upwards and tremble between his thighs. Nikolai lowers his hand that is on your throat to your chest, brushing lightly against your mounds before it slips into the bomber jacket. He takes out something from inside it—from somewhere, as you remember that there is no hidden pocket inside the jacket.

But there it is—a syringe in his hand.

Where did he get that?

“It won't hurt, little doll. I'm an expert.”

You wince when you feel a sharp prick on your neck and your consciousness is slowly fading. Your body feels lighter as your mind is disconnected from reality. With your little last effort, your hands grip Nikolai's body before you surrender yourself to inhale the drug, in addition to another dose being injected in you.

Your eyes are just too heavy to even keep them open. Your breathing is slow. You see him getting off your body and you try to squirm to get up, but you are overcome with intense sleepiness and dizziness. In the midst of cloudy vision, you feel a pair of hands gently fix your dress, especially on your upper thighs.

The last thing you see is Nikolai pulling a long rope out of his overcoat.

Come here😈