ochameow - Tumblr blog

ochameow · 4 days

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TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: mature content, dark content, kidnapping, age gap, manhandling | words: 3.9k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

Your lips are muttering numbers.

It is hard to count the cash in your hands while they are covered with worn-out gloves. Slowly but surely, you total up all the notes, smiling to yourself that you have surpassed a personal goal for tonight. You stuff the cash notes into your small baby blue pouch, zipping it up before you focus on your route again.

The pavement is covered with a sheer layer of snow, which is piling up as more snowflakes are pouring from the cold night sky. Your boots clack onto the cement. Tap, tap, tap—they go.

You just finished your shift for the night, which is considerably later than usual. You are an escort in a local bar that is quite infamous in the town. You entertain guests—usually lonely old men who seek faux comfort from a pair of gentle hands of a young woman. Sometimes you make a small performance in the local bar like tap-dancing or singing. Sometimes you are just sitting with a customer, listening to their problems, swallowing their drunken confessions.

But nothing sexual has ever happened to you. Sure, you do get invitations to sleep with your customers, but you always refuse it—it is just a personal choice, really. And you do not like to kiss and make out with a drunkard anyway. The furthest that has ever happened was when a middle-aged man slept on your lap after dunking three bottles of beer into his system and you had to let him suckle on your hand. Old people do have the wildest fetishes, sometimes.

Besides, the other senior escorts advised you to not get too sexual with the customers either—so you can keep selling the idea of how unapproachable you are. So, they can keep coming and coming, just to see you and to indulge in their fantasy of having a chance to dip into your pants.

You are not opposed to the idea of sex—the feeling of being desired has long been brewing in you. But you are already fine with the attention these customers give you, no matter how perverted and dark the true nature of their intentions.

Attention feels nice.

But too much attention makes one feel like killing themselves.

You walk at a slow pace. The snow is piling up, covering the pavement and the road with a thin blanket of white particles on the earth's surface. The wind feels drier as ever, colder. But it is not so strong that it blocks your sight. It is dark. The sky is covered with a veil of navy blue, with dots of faint sparkles scattered over it. The road lacks any sight of humans, though it is not even late. But the emptiness is purely because of how dull it is for a small town—well, what is to be expected from a suburban area?

You are too used to loneliness. It is the back of your hand. You are accustomed to such environments—where your personal space is never barged, never wanted. Which is why, you are too aware of the asynchronous slow footsteps behind you.

You glance at the reflection of the windows on each car you pass by. It is hard to see properly, but there is indeed a dark figure—taller, bigger—five feet away from your back.

Must be going in the same direction...

That's what you want to think.

You keep walking and keep your calm. Panic will only get you to nowhere. Best to not provoke anyone—especially in this suburban area. The bus stop is just fifty metres ahead. The road lights are flickering. You are almost there. Your blue heels clack on the pavement as you fasten your steps.

However,

Your body is swooped back harshly and you are about to scream before a strong arm wraps around your body and a big hand covers your mouth with a weird-smelling white cloth. Your scream is muffled beneath the napkin as you struggle against the man.

But his hold on you is obviously stronger.

“Shut your mouth.” He says as he drags you to the other side of the road, forcing your feet to follow his wide strides. You harden your legs, to make it harder for him to drag you but the substance you have been inhaling makes your vision worse. The orange lights are spiralling, the sky is falling, and the stars are crumbling.

“Mmmh!” You groan one last time as loud as you can as your head is dizzying away into a maze of incoherent thoughts. You grip your kidnapper's arm tightly as your eyes are threatening to close. And once your consciousness gives up on staying with you, you only feel your weak body being tossed onto a rough surface.

The last thing you see is a sight of tall pale man, with his hair as white as the snow falling from the night winter sky.

—

“What?! So soon?”

“Quit screaming in my ear, you dipshit.” Nikolai sighs as he leans back to his car seat. He taps the ashes of his cigarette out of the window before placing it between his lips again. He glances at the young woman who is unconscious right beside him—you.

"Dude, I gave that work last night and you got the girl... not even 24 hours later!”

Nikolai snorts. “Well, what can I say? I'm too good at this.” He says before he huffs the smoke from his cigarette. “Besides, this girl lives in a small town. It's not hard to figure out where she is and what she does.” Nikolai adds before he throws the cigarette out.

“Alright, no need for cockiness. But you hafta keep the girl with you for a while.”

Nikolai's jaw hangs. “What? Why? I got the girl. Why can't we just give her to those loan sharks and move on? I need money.” He protests. He hears his friend sigh loudly and Nikolai could practically see the rolling eyes of annoyance.

“I'm not saying that you'd keep her for a long fucking while. I need to consult with the loansharks again so we can arrange a meeting to give the girl to them and get our payment.”

“You’re so horrible at managing, I swear to God,” Nikolai grunts. His friend laughs and it irks Nikolai for some reason—he knows a mockery when he hears one. “Stop laughing, Viktor Pavlovsky. I'll kick your ass for forcing me to take care of a child.”

“Oh, heavens, my brother Kolyushka! She's not even a child! Just make sure she doesn't die!”

“I am not a babysitter, Viktor...”

“Alright, bye, lovely! I'm gonna do my part to satisfy our clients too, m'kay?”

Nikolai does not even get a chance to curse out Viktor before the man ends the call. Irritated, he tosses the phone to the cup holder in front of him. Nikolai glances at his side—you are still sleeping, or passed out, so quietly, so peacefully.

He seizes your jaw roughly, shaking your head—but you remain asleep, limp. Nikolai sighs. The substance must be too strong for you and he does admit that he did press the napkin too hard on your mouth and nose. Well, it's better to have you unconscious instead. Who knows if you dare enough to put up a fight? He does not mind killing you if you are being such a big problem, but you are the starshine of this whole ordeal.

Yesterday, Nikolai received word from Viktor about a new job. He had to kidnap a girl, needed as a hostage for a group of dangerous loan sharks. Apparently, your father is too deep in debt with those loansharks and he is having a very hard time paying back. The man keeps evading and running away, dragging you along with him.

Nikolai already knows some stuff about you. You are working in a bar as an escort, which explains your current clothes right now—a baby blue dress, white stockings, blue heels and a white cardigan. You do look adorable—Nikolai knows that many men in the bar you worked at would really love to have you on their bed.

Hells, if you are not a target, perhaps Nikolai would flirt with you as well.

But now you are asleep soundly in his car and he has to keep you with him because he is just too good at his job.

Nikolai sighs again before he leans towards you, taking the seatbelt to buckle you up. Then he yanks one of the ribbons on your hair, causing your head to tilt as well. He uses the ribbon to tie your wrists together, as tight as possible that the ribbon practically digs into your skin.

“Now, how do I 'take care' of this girl...” He murmurs as he holds the steering wheel, beginning to drive off the place. Nikolai is thinking hard. Should he get you to his humble apartment? Should he just drop you at Viktor's place? Should he ditch you somewhere he only knows and he will come and take you shall his clients finally need you?

But since this is a kidnapping, he should not let you be in the public's eyes. Especially your father. The whole point of kidnapping you is to keep you as a hostage, not a guest.

Nikolai is about to turn his car in the direction going to Viktor's place, but he remembers that Viktor lives with his girlfriend. He knows how possessive can Viktor's girlfriend be—Nikolai has heard enough stories from Viktor about how his girlfriend hit other people just because of her own jealousy.

And the last thing Nikolai wants is to have you tainted with bruises or dirt. You must remain flawless for the loansharks once they retrieve you in the future. He aims to get the most money out of this job—he is already desperate for them.

Reluctantly, Nikolai drives his way to his apartment complex—a worn-out building containing house units. It is an old building that constantly gets renovations and repairments just to keep it functioning for people to live. It is basically for the lower class to live.

He parks his car by the building and gets out. He gets to your side and unbuckles your seatbelt. Nikolai sighs, scratching his neck as he contemplates how to get you inside without raising suspicion. He knows that there are security cameras planted in the corridor for each floor. He doubts the owner of the building pays that much attention though since Nikolai had gone back home with a bloody shirt before and nothing was reported.

But at least he needs to be careful.

Nikolai takes off his jacket and drapes it over your body—or to be exact, your tied wrists. He then gently carries your body in his arms, kicking the car door close. He brings you inside the building and gets to his designated floor by the stairs—the elevator is barely functioning well anyway.

Nikolai gets to the sixth floor and walks to his unit quickly. He realizes he needs to get his keys from his pocket. Grunting in dissatisfaction, Nikolai lets down your legs, so you are leaning against his body instead. That way, he could hold your limp body while opening the door with one hand.

He wraps his arm around your body, pressing your body closer to him while he unlocks the door to his unit. Once he gets it, Nikolai practically drags you easily into the house, slamming the door close before unlocking it. He drags your limp body before tossing you onto the old couch.

“Fucking wake up already... Why do I need to babysit this girl?” He sighs loudly before he gets to you, taking off your heels and taking away his jacket from your body. He stares at your unconscious figure for a moment—leering his darkened gaze over your curves.

Nikolai swallows nervously—something stirs in his chest but he decides to ignore it. He proceeds to carry you again to his unkempt bed and once again tosses you onto the uncomfortable mattress. He takes a rope beneath the bed and ties your legs together before making a tight knot to the footboard railing, just so you cannot escape easily once you wake up.

“Alright, now what?” He asks himself as he looks at you again—tied and asleep, on his bed. He does not want to stay close to you, let alone sleep in the same space. Knowing he has little to no choice, Nikolai pathetically walks out—there is no door to his bedroom and he actually does not know where the fuck it is because it has always been that way since he lived here.

So he settles himself on the sagging couch. Nikolai places his arm over his eyes, shutting them close. The clock is ticking, approaching the deadest of the night. And after the trouble he went through today, Nikolai succumbs to his exhaustion—sleep.

But it is hard to fall asleep in this horrible condition he has to live with.

Nikolai stares at the ceiling—the dried paint is peeling off. The ceiling fan is creaking whenever it finishes a circle. Some unknown wires are hanging from the lamp. The fabric of the cushion beneath him is no longer soft and aromatic. He is basically lying on a piece of future garbage.

Despite the miserable fate that has fallen upon him, Nikolai feels quite nostalgic about it. Somehow, this poor condition reminds him of his childhood—or the oldest memories of his past. He was lucky to have a taste of luxury and comfort when he reached the age of twenty—but it was not for long.

After the incident in that prison, he decided to disappear—his mind wandered into a whole tangled mess of confusion and lost. His best friend was just killed. He was supposed to feel liberated, happy, relieved—but instead, he found himself cornered into the dark, again.

You wanted to kill him, didn't you?

Yes, I did.

Err... I didn't...

No... I did.

Remembering that piece of the past feels as if God mocks him.

When he was finally so far away from the scene of the crime—after two years, he almost threw up when the truth was dispensed right in front of his eyes. The sight of his friend being alive and well standing right in front of him after he lamented over that friend's horrible death and his horrible freedom.

You tried to kill me. I'd like to return the favour.

Lovely.

Nikolai should have expected that the Fyodor Dostoyevsky would not be direct when it comes to tormenting.

He did not expect that a whole squadron would besiege him, in an attempt to arrest him. Nikolai knew he could have run away but perhaps the shock of seeing Fyodor got into his head. He felt like he was not real—as if he was watching his body living by itself, without his own mind controlling himself.

For a long while he felt unreal—and he snapped out of it during his second day in prison.

And that was when he realized—he was too doomed.

For six years, he spent his days in prison with whack-ass jackasses. It was fun. Prisoners feared him somehow. But when he almost entered his seventh year in prison, he was released from prison—no parole, no bail. It was weird—as if something, someone, had interfered with the laws in order to get them to be on his side.

Nikolai still does not know who and how, but once again, he became a free man.

Except, he was bombarded with countless misfortunes.

His house, his documents, his treasures, money, relationships, people—everything.

He was arrested with his overcoat, and he got out with it. That is the only thing he still keeps—the only piece of himself that stays since years and years ago.

Nikolai was already on the verge of giving his life up, but he kept going anyway—another determination was brewing and is still going. He wants to find Dostoyevsky and return the favour to him—after all, that man caused Nikolai to get arrested and lose everything.

After all I did for your plans...

Bit by bit, Nikolai is attempting to climb again—he committed paid crimes. He admires those who are in the light of justice, but he is more intrigued with those who are lurking in the shadow of evil—so that is the path he decided to walk on. He knows his way to find people who want to commit injustice but do not have the balls to do so. The pay is always good—he manages to get a humble house for himself and a car within three months. But money is not always static. The money he gets from his crimes is always shared with Viktor, bills, rent and himself.

He needs to be strategic with finance. One wrong move, Fyodor could get him into the deepest hell of poverty. He is already saving money for his trip to St. Petersburg—the first place he wants to go as he believes Fyodor might be there. Nikolai's passport is also seized and Viktor has confirmed to him that he is blacklisted from even applying for one.

But Nikolai believes he can still go through with this vengeance. After this kidnapping is done and you are finally taken by the loansharks, he will get to other jobs and the cycle will repeat, until he can get to St. Petersburg comfortably.

And once he sees Fyodor again, no amount of guilt shall cage his heart—he hopes.

—

Nikolai squirms and groans hoarsely. The couch is hella uncomfortable and it feels like his back was stomped by a crowd of people. He gets up and stretches, yawning while he is at it. He looks at the clock—it is already ten in the morning. He takes out his phone, checking whether there is a new message from Viktor regarding the job. There is one—Viktor just said he will come to Nikolai's place and figure things out together. Somehow he also mentioned that he was excited to meet the kidnapped girl.

And it concerns Nikolai. He does not want Viktor to have his hands on you. Viktor is trustworthy... but only that much. He is not a nice guy to be around—but well, when Nikolai thinks again, he is not a good person to be around too.

Nikolai replies shortly to the message before he gets to his bedroom. He is nervous for some reason but he swallows it as he approaches the room. He enters.

“Oh, shit!”

Nikolai flinches when he sees you are already awake and sitting up straight on the bed, hugging your knees together. Your baby blue appearance made you look like a ghost in this dull house—like a white flower in the middle of an abandoned building.

“Hello...”

What?

Nikolai blinks confusedly. Why are you not thrashing around and struggling and spouting curses at him? He was pretty sure that you saw him when he kidnapped you last night. He frowns—is this a trick? Well, if that is the case, Nikolai is the wrong person you are trying to trick for sure.

“Do you realize the situation you are in right now?” Nikolai interrogates you as he approaches you, grabbing your tied wrists. You flinch at his roughness and yet you are not backing away. Your wrists already have a thin line of bruise due to the tight ribbon. One wrong twist and it makes you wince in pain.

“I asked you a question, girl.”

“M-My name is—”

“I already know your name.”

“Oh...”

Nikolai sighs. “Hey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.” He says harshly as he points his finger at you, nudging your head hard. You turn away, using your hands to shield yourself from his assaulting finger on your head.

“I-I didn't mean it...” You say slowly.

“Hey, hey, don't look away,” Nikolai says before he grabs your jaw, turning your head to face him roughly. “You're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.”

“O-Oh, I'm not staying...?” You ask, almost like a whisper. Nikolai raises his eyebrow—this girl is weird. He shakes your head roughly again.

“Of course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I-I thought—”

“Well, clearly you don't think smart enough.” He shoves your head away before he stands straight. You whine, rubbing your jaw with the back of your hands—it is hard to move when your ankles and wrists are being tied like this.

“Is it... because of my father?”

“Smart girl! So you can think after all!” Nikolai claps his hands with his mocking voice echoing in the room. “Why, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.”

“I don't think this... will work to get to my father though...”

Nikolai shrugs his shoulder. “Okay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.” He says. He looks at you, noticing the strange stare you are giving him. Nikolai narrows his eyes, baffled by the calmness you are projecting—he wants to think that you are just trying to be brave, but this silence, this obedience, this calmness... They throw him off.

“Can I go to the toilet?” You suddenly ask.

“What a good girl, huh? Asking permission to go shit.”

“D-Don't say nasty things like that.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?” Nikolai grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. Then he grabs one of your ankles, gripping it hard. “Don't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.” He says. You nod slowly before your eyes waver to your legs, to him and then your tied wrists.

You bring your tied wrists towards him, quietly asking him to untie them. Nikolai looks at you and then your wrists. He internally sighs before he unties the ribbon that is binding you. You wince when you are finally free. Your hands have a ring of darker shade and it stings when you rub it—your hands feel numb and your joints are straining as you try to move your arms.

Before you could even make a stretch to warm up your body, Nikolai yanks your arm, pulling you out of the bed. His grip is strong and hard and he easily drags you out of the bedroom and to the small bathroom located just by the kitchen.

He pushes the door open and then shoves you into the bathroom—small and just enough for one person to occupy it comfortably. Nikolai knows you won't escape easily—his unit is on the sixth floor and even if you could make your body small enough to slip out from the window in the bathroom, you would not know your way out.

“Make it quick.” He says before he pulls the door to close it. However, your hand holds it right before the door connects to the frame. Nikolai turns to you, seeing your adorable eyes staring back at him between the gap.

“T-Thank you for... letting me sleep on your bed... It was the most comfortable sleep I've ever had.”

And you close the door yourself, locking it.

Nikolai is stunned.

Did you just thank him? For letting you sleep on his bed?

He leans right beside the bathroom door, gazing at the worn-out ceiling. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips. He knows something is wrong with this girl he just kidnapped.

He feels like something is going to happen to him too. Nikolai huffs and gets his phone quickly, messaging Viktor so he will come and figure out what to do with you. Especially when you just said that 'this' would not work with your father—whatever that means.

©cherikolya 2024 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

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

#i’d thank him too ngl

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ochameow · 27 days

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this is my barbienheimer

#theyre so cutw so cutie rahhh #i love

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ochameow · 27 days

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last one the hand writes, someone says to him "Is that you're nipples?"

sorry but not sorry

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ochameow · 29 days

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rkgk

#bsd dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai fanart #dazai osamu #bsd fanart #bsd x reader #dazai x reader

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ochameow · 1 month

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dazai w 23

23 — they fuck you at a sleepover

tw. fem!reader, somnophilia, dub con, n/sfw, cunnilingus etc (mdni)

dazai carefully got up from his futon, his throat begging for a glass of water. his eyes scanned across the darkness of your room, only for his gaze to land on you. you apparently kicked the blanket off in your sleep — your loose night dress flipped up to reveal your thighs, your tits practically spilling out of the low cut garment.

the sight instantly made his cock throb, and mouth water — fuck, did you really have to tempt him like this?

dazai slowly creeped closer until he was standing right at the edge of your bed, you looked so pretty, he thought — a bandaged hand reaching down to skim over your thighs, making you shiver. so adorable too, he huffed out a soft laugh at your cute reaction.

it didn't take him long to settle between your thighs — water was overrated, anyways. he'd much rather have this. dazai planted a soft kiss on your clit through your panties, his tongue darting out to lick at the cotton.

eventually, he grew impatient from licking at your undergarment. he thought about taking your panties fully off — but that would take too much work, so he opted for shoving it aside instead.

the sight of your bare cunt almost had him groaning — dazai licked his lips in anticipation.

he pressed soft, open mouthed kisses all over your cunt. thumbs spreading your pussy lips and spitting directly in your hole — watching you clench and ooze out more of that sweet slick.

god, you tasted heavenly — dazai wasn't a believer of anything but fuck, he might've just become a believer of your pussy.

dazai mentally cursed himself for not doing this sooner, but chose to relish in the moment instead.

slowly, his licks and sucks got more aggressive — shaking his tongue in zigzag motions as he felt you tense and shiver under his touch, it was all so damn exciting. he knew you were close, so close to reaching that peak —

"d-dazai?"

send me prompts !

#thank you for writing i appreciate it sm #rb for funsies too

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ochameow · 1 month

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i wanna be beastzai’s ashtray and lapdog and fleshlight and whatever tf he wants everytimr i see this man all the feminism just seep out of my body

REAL AND TRUE godddd he's so miserable and sad and sexy...... pathetic wet cat of a man.....

Now that you mention ashtrays I'm thinking of him making you kneel by his feet while he works, mouth open and tongue out, being a literal ashtray for him for when he gets stressed and needs a smoke. Tapping out the ashes into your mouth and even putting the cigarette out on your tongue when he's done while you have to sit there with the foul taste in your mouth, not allowed to spit it out or even gag. Or he'll make you lie down next to him on the couch at home and leave the ashes on your chest or the small of your lap while you're draped over his lap, probably tasked with keeping his cock warm in your mouth as his free hand pets your hair. It's your job to keep him stress free after all! You don't need to worry about doing or thinking anything except what he tells you to.

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ochameow · 1 month

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rawr xd

#bsd dazai #bsd #dazai fanart #dazai osamu #beast!dazai #bsd fanart #beastzai

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ochameow · 1 month

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Inspired by @lovedazai ACROSS THE UNIVERSE

My man needs all the love of this (and others) world

Just quick sketch

#love #i love my bf

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ochameow · 1 month

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If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

#man i just wanna get over midterms

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ochameow · 1 month

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✿ 》 Angelic You

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; just a little thing because I got bored. I have a few works in progress done I'll get them out whenever I can. lord if I could work aesthetics on mobile. pleeaaase reblog my reach sucks

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; chuuya x afab reader. so much religious stuff but we're non believers its metaphors. non descriptive sex, mentions of acts of cunnilingus. fluffy if you squint.

what did it mean to be an angel?

was it the white wings of purity, a face made to be corrupted? ears that listen to those who deceive with the kindest heart?

you were more then that.

chuuya had never been religious - in his world full of gore and bloodshed there was no time or reason to attempt pray for higher beings. he found reflection and forgiveness at his own two feet - he didn't ever want to have to beg at the foot of a throne he wasn't even sure was real.

the only time a word of the lord would leave his lips was a hiss through gritted teeth. the word plagued with pain, rage, more. whatever was expressed to him.

the first time he spoke your name, it was the closest thing to saying a gods name affectionately. you were a celestial being to him - those stupid eyes of yours which he could see a future in. stupid hands that seemed to interwine so perfectly with his.

stupid voice that sounded so heavenly when his name fell from your lips, a benediction to an unlicensed holy matrimony.

the way the soft skin on your body glistened with sweat reminded him of the glass murals he'd see in churches. the painted glass that shone into those halls. how your hands held the sheets underneath you reminded him of an angels wings when resting.

"god, fuck.. _____ .."

chuuya had never been religious - with how you tasted on his lips while he feasted and your release on his tongue, he knew he'd never need a ceremony to drink the lords blood. he had his own right here. and he knew damn well you'd taste better then any cheap wine the churches had to offer.

in the garden of eden you were his apple. you were the only one that could cause him to sin the way you did. gentle hands cradling your back as it arched underneath him. noticing the way you tugged his waist closer, deeper, as you called to the heavens.

chuuya never would be religious. but you had to be an angel. his angel. one he could catch every time with his hair tied back as you fell from the elysium you were born into.

he'd be careful with your white wings for now.

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ochameow · 1 month

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draw you as a cat

im alr one this is proofbtw

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ochameow · 1 month

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meow :333

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ochameow · 2 months

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Vis habere hunc cabalarium in sponsum - Nakahara Chuuya

Pairing: knight!Chuuya X afab!gn!reader [2.5k]

Warnings: smut, period typical mentions of god/christianity/marriage, loss of virginity, technically infidelity, p in v sex, Chuuya is whipped, not proofread!!

Additional notes: this is the white day special! Thank you to my pookie @neviex for giving me the brainrot <3

"Tomorrow. You will go to the church. And you will be wed."

"And you'll go with me?" You say it like a question, though you already know the answer.

"Of course."

"And afterwards?" You also know the answer, you've asked at least a dozen times this week alone. It helps to hear him say it.

"I'm not going anywhere." He confirms.

"All throughout the festivities."

Chuuya just looks at you, his face somber. You sit on your bed with a sigh, and he shuts the heavy door to your room behind himself. A fire burns merrily in the hearth, but the air is cold. Neither of you speak. You begin to take off your boots just to have something to do, and Chuuya turns to the fire, kneeling by it. His chainmail and the edges of his tunic gleam in the light, but you can't see his face.

After shirking your belt and tunic you fall back onto your sheets with a sigh, clad in just your shirt and drawers. Being half naked in front of Chuuya is ill advised, especially on the eve of your wedding, but it's not like you care. He's been with you far longer than your future spouse will ever be. It doesn't feel unnatural at all.

Your thoughts swirl, somber. In the morning you'll leave this place and never come back, auctioned off like a pawn in exchange for an alliance. It's how things work and you've numbly accepted it, but somehow your heart still aches. The next fief over seems a world away, and you know you won't be able to visit home whenever you feel like it.

"I can't stand to see you like that," Chuuya says, startling you. In the firelight, his hair glows like a halo.

You sit up, looking at him properly. He's still facing away from you. Somehow, Chuuya has always been able to read your thoughts. "Miserable?"

"Married." Chuuya's eyes meet yours.

He finally gets up, and you see he's got something in his hands. A messy lump of small, riveted iron. Wordlessly he crosses the room and kneels at your feet, taking your left hand off the bed. Your mouth goes dry and your legs part automatically, letting him settle between them. You're very suddenly aware of your heart, beating frantically in your chest, hard enough to make you dizzy.

Chuuya's eyes find yours, uncharacteristically wide.

"Please," he says. There's something vulnerable in his voice. You nod.

He fiddles with the metal then slides it onto your finger, and you let him. It's a ring, made of chainmail. Your eyes flick between him and your hand, and he wordlessly shows you the hem of his mail, the small chunk missing there. Just enough for you to notice, if you know what you're looking for. Your heart aches as you look into his eyes, scared and hopeful and determined all at once.

Something rises in your chest, burning your throat. You sniff and rub your eyes, ripping your hand out of his grasp only to pull him into a hug. Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you muffle a choked sob into the cold metal of his shoulder. Chuuya's arms, just as strong and steady as you've always imagined, hold you tightly to his chest and he buries his nose in your hair. He manoeuvres you carefully but effortlessly onto your bed, going with you when it becomes apparent that you refuse to let go. Like this you're properly tangled up, practically sitting in his lap with the sharp, almost spicy smell of sweat and cloth all around you. Your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks, and the ring is warm around your finger.

You waste no time sneaking a hand down to the hem of his tunic, slipping it under the mail and cotton as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Wh- hey, what-" Chuuya splutters, his hands lifting from your body in uncertainty.

"Consummate it," you reply firmly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling his mouth back onto yours.

His demeanour shifts and he's on you in an instant, just like you knew he would be. Letting out a muffled moan against your mouth while he pushes you down, one hand gripping your waist while the other rests next to your head. His legs are between yours, keeping them spread, making you feel deliciously exposed. You feel naked already, laid bare for him, and it feels /right/. Just like how you'd imagined your wedding night to be, when you were still a child who listened to fairy tales.

Chuuya's hands burn, sliding up your hips and under your shirt. He pauses as the fabric reaches the top of your thighs, looking at you uncertainly.

“Yes,” you say immediately, a comforting warmth blooming in your stomach.

He uncovers your skin bit by bit, transfixed, unable to keep his eyes off you as he slowly strips you of your last layer. You raise your hands to your chest, nervous, but he gently takes them and puts them back by your head. He looks mesmerized, his mouth parted as he looks you up and down. A soft “/wow/” escapes from his lips and you can't help but laugh.

“I don't want to be the only one bare,” you remind him, tugging on his sleeve.

Chuuya visibly shakes himself and scrambles off the bed, bending forward to help his mail slide over his head and fall to the ground with a heavy, metallic thunk. He unceremoniously shirks his tunic and hose, suddenly revealing a great expanse of skin to you. It's all wiry muscle and freckles, pale and covered in scars from various skirmishes. You can't help but stare, taking in the graceful curve of his collarbones and hips, the seamless way each muscle leads into the next as he steps towards you. Your hands twitch, eager to reach out to him, to touch him.

Chuuya takes your hand, kissing your ring before turning it around and kissing your palm too. His lips move slowly, as if he wants to savour your skin, down the inside of your wrist and all the way to the crook of your elbow while he crawls onto the bed again. In a daze, you run your free hand over his back and side, feeling how his hip fits perfectly against your palm, like you were made to hold each other.

Curling your free hand in towards his hair you pull Chuuya away from your arm, skin still tingling wherever his lips touched it. You stare into his storm grey eyes and he looks back with just as much intensity. No words come out, but he lowers himself down until his forehead is resting against yours, his breaths mingling with yours.

“You know what this means, right?” Chuuya asks, and you look at him again.

“I'm marrying you.”

He nods. “In God's eyes, we're wed. You can go put on a show tomorrow and be handed off to whoever you like, but it doesn't matter.”

You stroke his cheek. “Mine,” you say simply. “My husband.”

He gasps at that, his pupils going wide and dark, clearly not anticipating the effect your words would have on him. Chuuya grabs your chin, kissing you messily and desperately, groaning into your mouth.

“Fucking hell.” His voice trembles. “I want you so much, right now.”

You whine at that, shivering as he trails kisses to your neck and chest. “Please, Chuuya?”

“Anything, anything you want.”

“Do it.” You hesitate a second, nervous and excited all at once. “Take me.”

He tugs on the last piece of fabric covering you, sliding the hose off your legs finally letting him see you. They fall onto a heap next to his own clothes, while Chuuya's hands trace your bare thighs. There's wonder in his eyes, longing. You reach out for him, pulling him back up to lie on top of you, feeling the hardness of his chest and the graceful lines of his spine and neck.

That's when you finally let yourself focus on it, and look down. His cock, resting thick and heavy on your stomach, the tip weeping little milky drops of precum that glisten in the firelight. Chuuya sees you staring and kisses your forehead, slowly taking his length in his hand and smearing the mess onto your stomach.

“Don't be scared,” he reassures.

“You're shaking too,” you point out, stroking his back.

“I….” Chuuya swallows, looking back into your eyes. “I can't believe this is real. That you're real.”

“I never thought I could be so happy about getting married. I'm just…. nervous.”

You part your legs a little more as he rubs the tip over your folds, gasping when he feels how wet you are.

“It's okay, I won't hurt you. Can I?” Chuuya pauses, poised over you, glowing like an angel on fire in the light of the merry embers.

“Always,” you nod.

He holds your hand, intertwining your fingers and leaning down towards you, kissing your shoulder. You relax against the foreign feeling, gasping as something hot and unfamiliar slides against your folds, holding onto his sides for support. This is it.

"Take me, take me inside. I've got you," he whispers feverishly against your neck, groaning low in his throat.

His lips feel so soft and his hair tickles your chest, scarred arms keeping you safe and pressed between him and your bed. It's a sin but the consummation feels holy all the same. No, not a sin. A betrayal. Throwing away your chastity. And yet, as you whine and dig your nails into Chuuya's bare, muscled back, you don't regret it one bit. You're right where you're meant to be, surrounded by him and full of him at the same time, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he trembles above you. Your /husband/. It stings only a little, his thick girth stretching your walls, breaking your purity and you lean into the feeling. Only he'll feel like that.

“Move Chuuya, please….. I can take it.”

Chuuya nods, wide eyed, his gaze never leaving yours. He drinks in all your expressions, the twitch of your brows and how you bite the inside of your mouth and cling to him, your nails surely leaving little marks on his skin. You groan quietly, the feeling of something dragging along your walls is strange, but you also feel oddly full. Oddly whole. You fit together perfectly, your warm cunt wrapped tight around him and twitching with arousal, Chuuya's breath catching in his throat when his cock is squeezed. He gives a few timid strokes then moves his hips more, in and out, sloppy motions that are nonetheless perfect. He cups your cheek with one calloused hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the corner of your eye to wipe away the last of your earlier tears.

Chuuya's eyes travel down your body and he leans back a little to get a good view, running his hand down your chest and stomach with care. He reaches down, down between your legs where your bodies connect, and pauses to look back up at you.

“Yes, Chuuya. You can,” you nod, rubbing his arm.

His fingers trace your cunt gently, reverently, feeling your entrance stretched wide around him. He brushes against your clit and you gasp, you hips twitching up to chase more of that unexpected pleasure.

“Is that good?” Chuuya asks, stroking the spot and feeling the hard nub hidden under its hood.

You nod, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand further against you, biting your cheek and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Don't stop,” you whisper, “move more, Chuuya, please.”

He nods, wide eyed, his breaths shaky as he begins to pump his hips again. Chuuya slowly finds a rhythm, one thumb stroking your clit in messy motions as he fucks into you. You groan and writhe under him, your head tossing from side to side, unsure where to put your hands or where to look, pinned under those beautiful eyes that seem to want to devour you.

“It's okay, it's okay, I'm never leaving,” Chuuya is babbling incoherently, such a stark contrast to his usual strong, expressive voice. His eyes look unfocused, his mouth hanging open a little and lips glistening with spit.

“Chuuya…” You whine, pulling him in by the hair to kiss him and feeling his lips continue to whisper reassurance against yours.

“I'm yours, okay? And you're mine, all mine.”

You nod shakily, the words sending a spike of need straight to your pussy. Chuuya smiles, dazed and self satisfied and full of love all at once, gripping your thigh and pulling it against his side. Something about the angle lets him go deeper, dragging against your walls while you hold him tight and hide your face in his hair. His head is bowed as if in prayer, buried in your chest as he groans and swears under his breath, pressing your bodies closer until every smooth roll of his hips rips a gasp from your throat. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling on the silky strands as you hook your legs around his waist, finally relaxing and letting yourself be louder. His hips slap rhythmically against yours to create a wet, embarrassing noise and his thumb never leaves your clit, rubbing and circling and playing with the slick pearl as it swells and twitches. Something is building, growing tight and hot in your cunt, making your legs tremble and squeeze him tighter.

“I think… Chuuya, I'm going to…”

“Let go, please my love, let yourself go…”

Your eyes roll back as the knot snaps, your voice breaking on his name as you finally cum. Your hands fisted in his hair and clawing at his back, your legs locked around his hips while he keeps pumping into you, as if your body is instinctively trying to draw him in deeper. The whole world narrows down to him, his warm body over yours, the sharp smell of sweat, his gorgeous voice muffled into your chest as he almost cries from the feeling. Your cunt is spasming uncontrollably, tightening around him to the point of being painful when he moves, trying to suck him in. And Chuuya was never a strong man when it came to you. He gives in as soon as you cry out, his own orgasm crashing into him until he's gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into your bedding, his hips stilling as he fills you up. It's warm, spreading through you and mixing with the feeling of satisfaction sinking into your very bones.

Chuuya trembles through his orgasm, all his muscles tense, before falling into a heap on top of you. He's panting hard, his hands refusing to leave your hips as you wrap your arms around him. You're both sticky with sweat and you can feel his cum beginning to dribble out of your cunt, probably staining the sheets, but you feel too exhausted and wonderful to move.

“My knight,” you say happily, kissing the top of his head.

Chuuya rubs his cheek against you, turning his head just enough to press a warm kiss to your chest. “Yours.”

#i love him #ty leo

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ochameow · 2 months

Text

Stepdad!Fyodor . . . [final part]

[pt. 1] [pt. 2]

Desperate times call for desperate measures. As much as you want to, Fyodor doesn't feel the same way about your relationship as you, and nothing you do seems to change that, not even a joint visit to his best friend. As if things couldn't get any worse, you start to get into serious trouble at college. Eventually, you find out what's keeping Fyodor from being yours alone, but in both cases, you have to resort to drastic solutions.

cw: dark content; stepcest, smut, threesome, double penetration, spitroast, creampies, cheating, power imbalances, implied underage, Nikolai is a creep, teacher/student affair, blackmail, manipulation.

Pairings: Fyodor Dostoyevsky x fem.reader x Nikolai Gogol + Osamu Dazai x fem.reader (separately)

wc: 6.8k

"I’m so mature, I got me a therapist to tell me there’s other men I don’t want / If I can’t have you, no one will." - SZA / Kill Bill "I remember thinkin’ I had you / And I can see us twisted in bedsheets / August slipped away, like a bottle of wine / ‘Cause you were never mine." - Taylor Swift / august

Author's note: I had so much fun creating and writing this series over the last few months! I can't believe I've finished it :< A big thank you to all my readers, everyone who contributed to this work, and all the nice anons and my lovely moots <3

With each passing day, your gleeful anticipation to sleep with Fyodor and his friend only grew. Partly because the idea seemed more and more fun to you, doing something completely different from your previous sexual activities, but mostly because your opportunities to sleep with Fyodor had drastically decreased since the dinner that had almost put your little affair at stake.

And although your mother’s suspicions had turned out to be wrong, Fyodor had deemed it necessary to be extra cautious from now on, to which you had agreed, until it eventually clicked that this meant having notably less sex with him.

Not only did it rarely occur anymore, thanks to Fyodor trying his best to fulfill his duties as a loving, faithful husband, and spending a lot more time fucking his wife, rather than his stepdaughter, but the few times you did get to sleep with him, lacked the passion that had been characteristic the first few times. Each time was a quickie, hurried and devoid of foreplay and aftercare, both essential parts of your lovemaking in its earlier stages.

While your mother was on cloud nine, with an attentive husband like Fyodor, and received all the attention that you felt was your birthright, you were forced to witness their ecstasy, betrayed by the sounds of bed springs creaking, their heavy breathing and suspicious thumping seeping through the walls at night.

Each time you lay in bed with a pillow over your head at night, trying to block out the noises that you ought to make, not her, you grew more and more frustrated, feeling so deprived of your nightly fun, that you thanked the gods when the day finally came– the day Fyodor was going to visit his best friend, and taking you with him to introduce you to a new sexual experience, promising that it would be fun.

But in your opinion, Fyodor could’ve fucked you behind a dumpster in a filthy alleyway and you would’ve been content, as long as he was yours alone, not your mother’s.

Of course, Fyodor had come up with a very fitting lie about how you two were going to spend the day and not be back before evening in advance.

Now that you’d passed your finals (in all honesty, the lack of sex with Fyodor had had a positive effect on your performance at school, at least you’d managed to study well enough to eventually graduate high school, despite your inner turmoil), it was time to find a college to visit soon.

Being the responsible father that your mother knew him as, Fyodor had offered to spend the day visiting several local schools in one go, to help you decide on one.

Your mother didn’t have to know that Fyodor had already helped you apply for a school that was good in his eyes and also enabled you to keep living at home weeks ago and that your destination for the day wasn’t different campuses, but his best friend’s apartment, or, to be precise, said friend’s king sized bed with sheets that felt so expensive it was obvious that he had a generous income that he didn’t have to spend on kids of his own.

You’d long forgotten about your mother’s dreamy smile that she'd flashed Fyodor when he had proposed his selfless idea to help you to her, or how she’d wished you fun and good luck when you had left the house earlier.

Now that you were on all fours on the luxurious satin sheets, your clothes long discarded on the bedroom floor, your mind was on nothing but the men in front and behind you, stuffing you with their cocks.

Nikolai had been giddy and eager to fuck you first, and, after waiting for your approval, Fyodor had allowed it, willing to patiently await his turn. In the meantime, he was enjoying the blowjob you gave him, sprawled out before you with his thighs spread wide.

“God, you're so cute. You feel so fucking good, baby,” groaned Nikolai, his hands, larger and rougher than Fyodor’s, kneading your ass as he buried his cock inside your cunt. “Can’t believe your daddy here waited until you were eighteen to fuck you.”

Fyodor, whose hands gently rested on the back of your head, as you slowly bobbed it up and down his length, hummed in response. “I believe taking advantage of a minor’s curiosity to fulfill one’s desires is wrong. But some people obviously have a different opinion on this.”

“Killjoy,” Nikolai scoffed. He grabbed the soft, supple flesh of your ass harder and gave you a little smack. “Let me tell you, sweetie, I wouldn’t have made you wait. Age is just a number, ain’t it?”

You could only whimper in response. You didn’t quite know what to say, as Nikolai’s words carried something creepy, yet he was much hotter than how you’d remembered him, and his groping, combined with the way your stepfather caressed you as your lips were wrapped around his cock, nearly drove you insane.

“Be gentle with her, Kolya,” Fyodor reprimanded his friend. “She’s not like one of your immature little playthings that you can toss around as you please.”

But before you had the chance to overthink Fyodor’s words, Nikolai firmly held on to your hips and pulled you back against him, making you yelp as you felt the tip of his cock nudge against your cervix. You moaned around Fyodor’s cock, and it almost slipped out of your mouth.

Nikolai enjoyed your reaction greatly, and he cackled before thrusting again, even harder this time.

„She’s not as fragile as you think, Fedya. See, she likes being fucked hard.“

Not quite convinced, Fyodor tilted your chin upwards, searching for signs of discomfort on your face. “Are you alright, sweetheart? We can stop anytime if you want to.”

His attentiveness was truly touching, and despite the man behind you moving in and out of you at a relentless pace, you smiled and kissed Fyodor’s palm. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“If you say so…but your word is our command, little one,” Fyodor said and leaned back against the headboard of the bed once more, allowing you to pick up where you’d left off and pay attention to his cock.

“So if Kolya does something you don’t like, tell him. He needs to be put in his place now and then…”

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Nikolai and he reached forward to grab your tits, groping them while he kept fucking into you. “Nobody has ever complained about my performance in bed before.”

It was hard to focus on the task at hand, pleasuring Fyodor, when his friend’s cock, bigger and girthier than his, dragged along your wet walls the way it did, pulling one string of incoherent moans after another from you.

When Nikolai sped up his movements, and shoved your body forward, almost making you choke on Fyodor’s cock as it slipped deep into your throat, you gave up. You gagged and recoiled, coughing.

“Hold on…”

“Aww, two dicks too much for you to handle, little girl?” Nikolai chuckled.

“I need a little break,” you told Fyodor with an apologetic look.

“Take your time,” Fyodor whispered and wiped the saliva that dripped down your chin away with his thumb, but you could see from the deep red color of his cock’s tip, and the way it twitched, that he’d been close to cumming, hadn’t you stopped all of the sudden.

“You’re giving your poor daddy blue balls!” Nikolai laughed, as he once again picked up the pace, grabbing your hips tightly and rutting into you. His pace was relentless and his strength and stamina greater than Fyodor’s, you had to admit that.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Fyodor said. He brushed your hair, that stuck to your sweaty forehead, out of your face and smiled gently. “We’ve got the whole day, and you ought to enjoy yourself. This isn’t about my pleasure–”

“Right, my bad,” Nikolai sneered and reached down to rub your clit in quick circles while he pulled out of you halfway, only to slam his cock right back into your pussy. “I forgot your balls belong to your wifey now. Snip snap, you left them at the altar.” He cackled at his joke and pinched your clit between his thumb and index finger, making you whimper.

Fyodor’s smile faded, and he glared at his friend.

“Shut up, Kolya,” he scowled. “Don't speak so ill of my wife.”

“Ohoo, kitty’s got claws now?”

“She had every reason to not want you to visit anymore. And even if she didn’t, do you seriously think I would’ve let you…do what you had in mind?”

“You're just as sick and depraved as I am, my friend. After all, you're fucking your own daughter...” Nikolai grinned, his smirk a sinister one.

You were slowly getting fed up with their bickering. Too fucked out to properly follow their conversation, you were left lying between them being used like a soulless toy, with neither of the men paying attention to you and your pleasure, like they had in the beginning. What annoyed you the most was Fyodor defending your mother’s honor, as if she had to be mentioned and praised by him in a situation like this.

You sat up to pull away from Nikolai and instead grabbed Fyodor’s shoulders, slamming your lips against his, messily making out with him.

“Shut up already and fuck me, will you?” you growled at him. Your stepfather swallowed thickly, looking genuinely taken aback. Your own crude words made you blush, but whatever it took to get Fyodor’s attention, you were willing to do.

“Hey, what about me?” Nikolai sulked since you made him the third wheel. He looked adorable, hard, needy cock bobbing against his abs as he sat there, forced to watch you make out with Fyodor.

“Watch us,” you grinned and straddled Fyodor, who was still on his back. When you sank down on his hard cock, slowly, drawing a guttural moan from both of you, you kept eye contact with Nikolai. “Touch yourself…”

Nikolai’s eyes were wide like saucers, and he stared at where yours and Fyodor’s bodies were connected. Just like you’d ordered him to, he wrapped his hand around his cock and rubbed it slowly.

From the corner of your eye, you could see that the size wasn’t the only difference between their genitals. While Fyodor was circumcised, and his dick was the first real one you’d ever seen, it fascinated you to watch how Nikolai’s foreskin was continuously pulled back and forth as he pleasured himself. A truly educational experience.

The sight beneath you was beyond beautiful. As you looked down, you cupped Fyodor’s face; lids fluttered shut, a thin layer of sweat on his pale skin, lips parted as whines and muttered curses spilled from them.

“I love you…Fedya, I love you,” you said, and buried your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering each time his cock kissed your cervix.

“I love you…too, honey,” he whispered, and you believed him, believing that he meant it in the same way that you did. One of his hands held your waist, the other stroking up and down your back. “My beautiful girl…”

The gentle pace, the whole sensual moment just between you and Fyodor, only lasted for a few minutes and was interrupted when Nikolai started to get bored of jerking off to the scene before him and sat up on his knees and scooted closer. You felt him grab your ass from behind, kneading the soft fat and watching how a creamy white ring of your arousal formed at the base of Fyodor's cock.

“Ever been fucked in the ass, sweetie?” he asked, and before you could answer, you felt his thumb flick over your asshole.

You gasped, as the sensation was strange, unknown, but surprisingly pleasant.

“N-No…ah, but…that feels good…”

Nikolai smirked and leaned down to drag his tongue over your hole, wetting it with spit. He spread the makeshift lube with his thumb, and carefully applied a bit of pressure, until the finger slipped inside, making you mewl.

“I’m not surprised. Your daddy isn’t into anal, although I've been trying to tell him what he’s missing out on for nearly twenty years.”

“Why would I…when there’s another entrance for that?” Fyodor said through grit teeth and slowed down the pace of his thrusts a bit.

“So narrow-minded,” Nikolai shook his head and slipped another finger inside your ass. You moaned at the stretch, as well as at how Fyodor kissed your neck and collarbones.

“Are you sure you want both of us at once?” he whispered, gently stroking your hair.

“Yes, I wanna try.”

“Yay!” exclaimed Nikolai, and pulled his fingers out of you, spat into his hand and smeared his saliva all over his cock. “Today’s my lucky day!”

The stretch of Fyodor’s cock was already enough to make you see stars. But when Nikolai carefully pushed the tip of his dick inside your asshole, your mouth fell agape and you gasped.

You’d never felt so full before, and Nikolai didn’t give you much time for adjustment, as he bottomed out in one single, slow thrust.

“Shit…ah, so fucking tight!”

You rested your head on Fyodor’s chest while taking deep breaths, still getting used to the foreign stretch in your ass. The sound of Fyodor’s heart pumping blood, like a song that was made just for you to hear, and the feeling of his chest heaving with each breath he took felt like a peaceful wave carrying you.

“Mine,” you whispered breathily, but Fyodor didn’t even hear it, because at the same moment, he groaned and threw his head back into the pillows, as he felt Nikolai’s cock through the membrane that separated your ass from your pussy, when the latter entered you.

You groaned too, feeling the two men moving inside you at once, and your mind went foggy again as they continued using your holes to get themselves off.

“Are you already close, Fedya?” Nikolai groaned, not missing how Fyodor bit his lip in an attempt to last a bit longer. The way you felt so much tighter now, and the pornographic act of fucking you together with another man made it hard for your stepfather to keep his orgasm from crashing down over him.

“Mhmm…” he replied with a grunt. “Ah, fuck!”

Nikolai had reached down, grabbing a firm hold of his friend’s balls, earning a loud whine from him.

“I wanna watch you cum, your orgasm face is priceless,” he panted and squeezed Fyodor’s balls. Nikolai's cock was buried deep in your ass, though it only lingered there before he pulled out halfway and thrust back into you.

It felt amazing, overwhelming but so good. You made a mental note to beg Fyodor to do that to you too sometime, once this was over.

And oh, how right Nikolai was. When you slept with him, you were often too dizzy to properly witness Fyodor’s face when he came, but when you did manage to catch a glimpse of it, while sucking or jerking him off, for example, it was like a work of art, meant to be exhibited in a gallery for the world to see. And yet, it was all yours, and it was especially pretty to look at how his features contorted in pleasure and he let himself go completely, and knowing it was the result of your work.

Unable to voice his approaching release, Fyodor pulled you tighter into his embrace and dug his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out as well, both from the pain and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you and painting your walls milky white.

“Feels good, dollface?” Nikolai asked you, grabbing your face to make you look at him. “You like being stuffed with your Daddy’s cum, huh?”

“Yes, yes! I love it!” you whimpered, lips swollen and red from biting them. Nikolai had adjusted his position and was fucking your ass at a new angle now, allowing him to drill his cock deeper inside you than before. His pubes tickled the soft skin of your ass, as he buried himself inside you to the hilt, waiting a few seconds, and pulling out entirely with an obscene sound.

“Don’t stop, please,” you pleaded, your focus fully shifted away from Fyodor, who was still recovering from the aftershocks of his high, eyes closed and chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“Little fucking slut…”

Your hole was gaping, clenching around nothing, and Nikolai inspected it with delight.

“Want my cum in your ass, hm? Is one load not enough for you?”

Nodding frantically, you wiggled your ass, hoping that he would put an end to your agony and finally grant you your own orgasm.

“Yes, please…please..”

He grabbed your hip with one hand, and stroked his dick with the other, tapping it against your hole. He was so close he ached already, and even if you wouldn’t have begged him, the chance was low that Nikolai would have managed to resist finishing inside you.

He pushed in a last time, leaning into you with his full body weight, and spilled into you with a groan.

Hot, thick ropes of cum painted your insides, a lot more than Fyodor’s load. As he caught his breath, Nikolai remained folded over your back, pressing down against you.

“Kolya,” Fyodor mumbled, sounding pretty exasperated, and patted his friend's back– understandable, as there were two people lying on top of him, and Nikolai was heavy.

Obediently, he rolled off of you, and sprawled out like a starfish next to you and your stepfather. Fyodor too, pulled out of you and you felt empty again, aside from the two heavy loads slowly oozing out of your holes. You felt filthy but in a good way. Being jizzed on had never felt wrong when Fyodor was involved.

“How are you feeling, darling?” He whispered into your ear, as you snuggled against each other on the king-sized bed. This moment was yours alone, and you wished you could freeze time and stay like this forever. Fyodor smelled like sweat, and you were sticky with cum, but rarely had you ever felt this content after sex.

“Perfect. I’m with you, Fedya,” you hummed into the crook of his neck and kissed him there. “How are you? Was I good?”

“What a question. Of course, you were, you’re my perfect little girl,” was his response.

Next to you, Nikolai had started to doze off, softly snoring. He looked a mess, though you were hardly looking any more put-together at the moment. His blond hair was disheveled, cheeks flushed, and his cock, which slowly softened as it rested against his toned abs, was still smeared with both your bodily fluids.

“He fell asleep,” you giggled quietly and reached out to run your hand through Nikolai’s hair, playing with the strands, soft to the touch. “How cute.”

“He’s always out cold after sex, the moment he’s finished,” Fyodor snorted.

“How do you know?”

Fyodor raised a brow at you and grinned. “I was also young, some time ago. You think this is the first time we’ve done something like this?”

He laughed when your cheeks grew hot, and you shyly looked away. You could hardly imagine a younger version of him sleeping around with Nikolai and a third party.

Your stepfather cupped your face and kissed your forehead. “But none of those little adventures ever compared to you.”

───────────────

You’d had your fun at Nikolai’s, there was no denying that, but essentially, that little adventure had only made your bond with Fyodor stronger. At least that’s how you felt.

While you loved and wanted him more than ever before, the love he showed you at home was that of a father, as platonic as it could’ve been, and no trace of the romance you thought had sparked between you at Nikolai’s was left.

Sure, he was affectionate and kind as you knew him to be, but day by day, it got more difficult to deny the obvious: he wasn’t yours, but your mother’s.

Anyone would’ve been grateful to have parents who had a relationship as loving as theirs was, and you were too, in a way. After all, your father, when they had still been together, had never adored your mother as much as Fyodor did, and you knew that your stepfather’s feelings for her were real. And that was the biggest problem.

Fyodor loved you, he’d never shied away from telling you that, but after each time you two had sex, he kissed you goodnight and he was hers again.

You knew by now that he wasn’t just pretending to only feel fatherly affection for you to keep your secret safe.

The love he felt for you didn’t go any further than that, as deep and genuine as it was, and his nightly desire for you didn’t change that. As much as you wanted him to, he didn’t see you as a partner, a lover, as his.

And it was all her fault.

───────────────

Your first semester in college had started, but instead of connecting with your peers, going out, and enjoying the classes that you would’ve found interesting under different circumstances, you were busy ruminating about what in the world you had done wrong to be undeserving of Fyodor’s love, that your mother was lucky enough to be showered with day and night.

Unfortunately, your lack of focus and drive started showing in your grades, the missed deadlines, and the unattended classes that piled up.

But even that went past you, trivialities undeserving of your energy, as you thought, until one day, one of your professors asked to stay in the lecture hall for a moment once the class had ended.

“Is something the matter, professor Dazai?" you asked once the rest of the students had left the hall, and the heavy wooden door had fallen shut.

“Yes, I’m worried about your performance,” he said and crossed his arms, leaning back against his desk. “If you don’t start taking your education seriously soon, you might fail a few classes, mine included. Do I bore you so much you can’t bother to pay attention to my lecture once a week?”

Shit, you thought. It didn’t surprise you that your professors had a critical opinion about your sleazy attitude by now, but the possibility that you might fail if you kept going like this, hadn’t crossed your mind until now, that’s how mentally absent you’d been.

“No, of course not,” you said quietly, staring down at your shoes. “But I’m having a bit of a hard time at home right now, you know. So–”

“I don’t care,” Dazai interrupted you. “Save your excuses. What I do care about is for you to pass this class, as well as your others.”

Professor Dazai was popular among your fellow students; handsome, and young, compared to most of his colleagues, who all seemed to be about a decade older than him.

His lectures were usually very entertaining, due to his charisma and wit– he was a true heartbreaker.

There were plenty of students who started blushing and whispering to each other in the hallways when he was in sight, and you had often overheard a handful of girls giggling and talking about him in the bathroom as they gathered in front of the mirror by the sink, as they combed their hair or reapplied their makeup.

Ever since your first semester had begun, you also heard rumors about him sometimes, and allegations that he had scandalous relationships with students on occasion.

Naturally, you were surprised at his sudden sternness, another side to him, one that had very little understanding for your laziness.

„Yes, I understand. But I am struggling at the moment. Is there anything I can do to pass after all?“ you asked, hoping to receive some kind of support or advice. Of course, you couldn’t tell Dazai the reason for your poor performance.

„Study? Maybe don’t skip your classes? Get your head out of the clouds and take this seriously, I’m sure your parents are paying a lot of money for you to be here, and they wouldn’t be happy if it all went to waste, would they?”

„Thank you very much, sir,“ you huffed, wanting to turn around and leave the lecture hall. You’d assumed Dazai had intended to give you some useful advice, not darken your mood further.

„However…if that’s too much to ask of you, I could offer you something else.“

„I’m all ears.“ You stopped in your tracks.

„Well, I’m always happy to help my students find solutions when they’re struggling. So, if you’ll allow me to…offer you my support, I can guarantee you that you’re going to pass all of your classes.“

„But I thought you only teach contemporary literature and art? How are extra lessons, or whatever you’re suggesting, gonna help me pass my other classes?“

„You’re not very smart, are you?“ your professor scoffed. „I’m not talking about extra lessons.“

„Then what do you mean?“ You frowned, letting Dazai’s words sink in.

„Lord, give me strength,“ he murmured, then cleared his throat. „What I’m offering you is a little deal between you and me. I have good connections in this institution and more influence than you think. But my help has its price– we’re doing each other a favor, that’s it.“

“What do you want?”

Dazai remained silent, merely raising his brows and letting you fill in the blanks. You had an eerie feeling that there was only one thing left he could mean…

„Sex?“

“Bingo.”

“No!”

You couldn’t do this. You didn’t want this. Yes, he was hot, but not hot enough to be worth cheating on Fyodor with. You shooed away the thought that technically, you and Fyodor weren’t even in a committed relationship, so sleeping with someone else didn’t count as cheating.

„Alright, alright, I was merely trying to help you out. You don't have to, of course. But in that case, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you,” Dazai shrugged.

With that, the professor turned around, grabbed the stack of books he’d used for today’s earlier lecture from the desk, and made his way to the door.

“No, wait!” you called out, just when he reached for the door handle. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Good. After class next week. Wear something cute.” Dazai winked and shot you a last glance before he left the lecture hall. The sound of the heavy door falling into its lock still echoed in your ears, as you made your way home, paralyzed about the decision you’d just made.

───────────────

For almost ninety minutes straight, you’d stared at the clock on the wall, as if your penetrating gaze would make the time pass faster.

When the bell finally rang, announcing the end of the lecture, you waited for the other students to leave the hall.

You wanted to shoo them all out, so you could just get the thing that awaited you over with, but they took their sweet time, chattering about the contents of the lesson and other trivialities with one another as they packed up.

“You coming?” one of your classmates, another girl that you’d befriended over the past few weeks, asked when you stayed seated.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right there. I just have a question about the assignment,” you said quickly.

“Okay,” she smiled, unsuspecting, and reached for her bag, before she left the room, leaving you and Dazai alone.

Your professor shut the door behind her and pretended to sigh wearily.

“Too bad she’s got straight A’s. I’d love to give her a little private lesson too,” he chuckled.

You grimaced at the crude joke he’d made about your friend but left it uncommented. The less you talked now, the sooner this was going to be over.

You rose from your seat and approached Dazai, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, trying to kiss him. He pulled back and cringed.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“No, this isn’t how we’re doing this. Turn around, bend over the desk.”

You hesitated but did as he said. The surface of his desk was smooth and cold, and you shivered, though you weren’t sure whether that came from the desk or the chilly atmosphere.

This was a lot different from sleeping with Fyodor, or even Nikolai. While Nikolai had also been less affectionate than Fyodor was with you, even he had enjoyed thoroughly making out with you before he’d wanted to fuck you.

But Dazai not only lacked the affection and liking for physical contact that you were used to, no, he seemed to want as little as possible of that. This was all about the intercourse and nothing else, making you wonder if the other students he’d done this with had even enjoyed it, beyond getting off on the thrill that came with being fucked by a professor.

“I’ll make this quick, I know you’re not into me,” you heard Dazai say behind you, followed by the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his fly being opened. Fabric rustled, he pulled his pants and boxers down. Cool, slender fingers flipped your skirt up and tugged your panties down.

“I could tell from the moment I proposed this to you that you’re already someone else's,” your professor said and kicked your legs further apart with his foot. He leaned forward, his breath fanning against your ear when he whispered: “What would he say if he saw you right now, hm?”

Dazai’s cold fingers brushed over your folds, and you didn’t want to, you tried so hard to resist, but to no use, you could feel yourself getting wet as he collected some of your arousal.

“Would he be jealous?”

One cold finger slid into your pussy, and you gasped.

“Or would he perhaps…” he inserted another finger, “...not even care one bit?”

You froze, paralyzed. This man was sinister, and sadistic in every way, and he fooled this whole institution with a pretty face and a quick wit.

“No,” you whispered, tears beginning to brim in your eyes. “No, he loves me...”

“If he would, you’d be able to focus in class, darling,” Dazai scoffed and pulled his fingers out of you. He reached for a drawer in his desk and took out a condom, opening the package with his teeth. “You think I can’t spot a lovesick girl when I see one? 'I’m having a hard time at home' my ass.” Dazai slid the condom on and aligned the tip of his dick with your entrance. “Your guy loves someone else. Face it.”

With that, he pushed into you, in one go, and you clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that escaped you, but it wasn’t from the sharp pain that Dazai’s sudden thrust had caused you, but because of his words and the truth that they carried.

───────────────

“Ah-ah, wait a sec…”

*snap*

Still bent over the desk, you squirmed when you heard the sound of Dazai’s phone camera taking several pictures.

“What are you doing? Stop” you hissed and swatted his hand away, as he took several snapshots of your cunt, smeared with his cum that dripped out of you.

“Just making sure this stays between you and me, sweetheart.” Your professor grinned at the screen as he swiped through his camera roll. “Pretty, huh?”

He showed you a few of the photos, in all of them, you were seen in the same bent-over position, your hair a mess, your ass bruised with a red handprint, and smudged mascara on your cheeks. You were sore, as he hadn’t exactly been gentle with you, but your heart ached far more than your body did.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to see those, would you?”

“...no.”

“Good girl.” Dazai put his phone back into his pocket and handed you a tissue. “Clean yourself up. And hurry, my next class will be here in five minutes.”

You snatched the tissue from his hand and rubbed the smeared makeup off your face, once you’d pulled up your panties. Just in time, you fixed your disheveled appearance, before the first students came in through the door. Dazai looked as put together as before, nothing about his appearance gave away that he’d just fucked a freshman on his desk.

“See you in class,” your professor said nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

You nodded briefly and, without looking back, hurried out of the lecture hall and towards the school’s exit. Since this quickie had ensured that you were going to pass this semester no matter what (as Dazai had promised it, and you believed him, why else would he risk his job like this?), you felt zero guilt skipping the rest of your classes for today. You needed to be at home now, you needed Fyodor.

───────────────

Not long after, you stood in the kitchen at home and did the dishes you’d left in the sink earlier this morning, and Fyodor returned from work.

He hung up his coat, took off his shoes, and tossed his keys onto the cupboard. Then, he joined you in the kitchen.

“Hey, princess…had a nice day at school today?

Strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you against a warm chest. Fyodor pressed a kiss against your temple, humming quietly as he watched you scrub a plate.

“Hmm…it was okay,” you replied and leaned further into the comforting embrace. This felt heavenly. How you’d longed to be embraced by these arms for hours…

Of course, you felt like bursting into tears and confessing to Fyodor what had happened that day, but you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to argue about your reckless decision, or disappoint Fyodor because your grades were bad, nor did you want to admit to him that you’d cheated on him. Dazai’s hurtful words were stuck in your head, though you tried to ignore them. Your eyes stung and you felt a lump in your throat, but you pulled yourself together.

“What’s that smell on you?” Fyodor asked and sniffed your hair.

“What smell?” you replied, and hoped that Fyodor hadn’t heard your voice crack.

“Men’s cologne. Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” he grinned conspiratorially.

Dazai’s cologne. Of course, Fyodor was going to smell it on you from this close.

“Of course not,” you laughed awkwardly. “We are packed like sardines in the lecture halls, so it must be the cologne of the guy who sat next to me.”

“I was only joking, my dear,” said Fyodor. “Besides, you know I wouldn’t mind if you were seeing other people. It’s a joy watching you grow up, and I guess dating is part of that.”

Don’t say this! You screamed internally. You should mind! We’re in love, aren’t we?

“I’m not seeing anyone. I have no interest in a boyfriend when I have you.”

Fyodor laughed at your pout and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You’re so sweet. I’m so happy you’re my daughter. But it wouldn’t hurt you to go out more, you know? College is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, you’ll remember that time forever!”

I fucking hope I won’t, you thought, but instead of answering, you leaned up to kiss Fyodor’s jaw.

“Are you free tonight? I’ve got a new bath bomb we could try together…” you whispered suggestively. Your stepfather pulled back with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, sweetie, I can’t. It’s your mom’s and my anniversary today, and I was planning to take her out. Another time, okay?”

Right. The day of the year you always feared the most, followed by the annual flu shot.

“Fine. As you wish.” You turned your attention back to the dishes in the sink, frantically scrubbing them.

“Come on, please don’t be mad at me, okay?”

“I’m not.”

“Darling…we need to properly plan our special time together if we don’t want to get caught one day, you know that. It’s hard to do that spontaneously. And while I’m having a lot of fun with you, and I love you to the moon and back, we are no couple, and we most definitely cannot act like one with others around the house.”

You felt your stomach twist. Dazai had been right, and your greatest worry had been confirmed. Your secret affair was nothing more than a little adventure to Fyodor, while it was the center of your life to you, and he was your great love, but to hear him say it out loud hurt differently.

“Have fun with Mom,” you grumbled and squirmed out of Fyodor’s embrace. You needed a plan, as soon as possible, for you weren’t sure for how much longer you would be able to take this agony.

───────────────

You had barely slept that night, partly because of your planning, and partly because Fyodor and your mother had been awfully noisy when they’d gotten back home from the restaurant, tipsy and giggly as they’d stumbled into their bedroom. As you were used to, they had hardly given you a choice but to listen to them having sex again. It was infuriating.

Trying to come up with a plan took you a couple more days and sleepless nights, and although what you eventually came up with was cruel, you felt it was the only way that ensured you’d have a future with Fyodor, a future where your mother wasn’t his number one.

Fyodor wasn’t going to want to leave her, so she had to leave him.

You’d figured that, if you couldn't have him, no one should, especially not her.

The day you decided to go through with it, you weren't going to have any classes until noon, so, once Fyodor and your mother had wished you a nice day before they left for work, you hurried upstairs.

After a last moment of contemplation, you dug out a pair of brand new panties from your drawer– hot pink and lacy, and they did a very poor job at covering anything.

Slutty and tasteless were the only fitting words to describe what they looked like.

You’d just bought the lingerie the other day, specifically for this occasion, which meant that your mother couldn’t possibly have seen them in the laundry yet, and identified them as yours.

Your heart was thumping like crazy when you entered your parents’ bedroom and placed them underneath Fyodor’s side of the bed. You took a step back to inspect the picture you’d created, then knelt before the bed again to adjust the undergarment’s position, so that one corner of the fabric peeked out from underneath the bed.

Today Fyodor was going to be home from work earlier, so technically, he had the perfect opportunity to invite his mistress over. Not like Fyodor had one, but what other conclusion could your mother draw when she’d return from a long day of work to find underwear that was neither hers nor her daughter’s, underneath their shared bed?

It wasn’t right to stab Fyodor in the back, but you had to frame him for something he didn’t do.

Confusion, shock, hysteria, divorce– that was the series of events you hoped to happen today, and all that you had to do now was heading off to school with a devilish grin, and later return home to find at least one of your problems solved.

When they were done with one another, and you were going to stand by him, he would finally see who loved him the most and love you back just as much.

───────────────

The look on Fyodor’s face made you pity him when you returned home to find the exact scene you’d hoped to play out. He looked so hurt, so desperate to save his marriage that it made your heart flutter.

What a man, you thought. The kind you don’t get over. And it was your mother’s loss that she was unable to see that.

Her voice was raised in fury and rang through the whole house, as she aggressively flailed around her arms, yelling at Fyodor and holding your lacy panties in one hand.

Her poor husband tried to pacify her, stammering as he promised over and over again that he had no idea whose underwear that was, and that he had no idea how they’d gotten under the bed.

On any other day, you would have interrupted the fight to defend Fyodor, but as sorry as you were for him that the woman he loved was slipping through his fingers, and that the upcoming breakup would catapult him into deep grief, this was necessary to ensure that he was going to be able to spend the rest of his life with the one who truly deserved him. He simply needed a little push to understand that.

Quietly, you walked past the living room and smiled as you went to your room. When the time would come, you would make sure that your beloved stepfather had someone to lean on to cope with the loss and eventually find love again, and god knows you were going to be that someone…

#MY GOD #LITERAL HEART EYES

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