As you are whisking a few eggs with a fork in a bowl, the doorbell suddenly rings loudly, jolting you out of your focus. You place the bowl on the counter, hastily wash your hands and wipe them on your shirt. You walk to the door to get it, but you pause.

What if it's the homeowner?

You are not documented as a resident in this unit—it is only Nikolai’s. You are not sure if it is the homeowner, despite Nikolai having stated that he is not in St. Petersburg at the moment. But who knows? Fate plays with you in strange ways many times already.

“I guess it’s better that he’s the one answering…” You mumble to yourself when you hear the doorbell again. You turn away and rush into the bedroom, seeing that Nikolai is still asleep.

You place a hand on him, shaking his body lightly. “Kolya… Kolya, wake up.” You say softly, not wanting to surprise him or anything. But he remains motionless, eyes still shut.

“Kolya, come on. Wake up.” You say again, a little louder. He only hums, nose scrunched, but he relaxes almost immediately as if he is tangled back into the dream. You shake him harder, calling his name.

“Hmm…” Finally, he moves slightly, but only because he is disturbed by your gesture. He turns his face to bury himself into the pillow and lazily brings his hand to his ear, as if to block your voice.

“Nikolai. Wake up, please.”

“Mm…”

“Someone’s at the door, Kolya. Please?”

“Hm.”

“Daddy, wake up.”

“What?”

Nikolai lifts his head almost immediately, blinking confusedly at you.

“What’d you say…?” He asks groggily, and you almost giggle at how his face looks. You think he looks just like a lost kitten—those kitties who try to fight their way through sleepiness. A perfect description, you would say.

“I said someone’s at the door.”

“O-Oh.” Nikolai stares at you, still puzzled. “R-Really..?”

“Hm?” You purposely blink confusedly. “Yeah, someone’s at the door. You should get it. What if it’s the homeowner? And you’re the only one who has the name in the contract, so…” You tug his arm to pull him to sit up. And he does, gently pushing you out of the way. He says nothing as he pushes the blanket to the side and gets up. Your eyes widen, seeing his bare torso right in front of you.

“Why don’t you grab a shirt, at least?” You say, now remembering how he really likes being half-naked in bed.

“Ugh… Shut up.” He grunts, waving his hand dismissively at you. Nikolai’s head is still not clear as he stretches and walks to the door. He opens it barely, just enough for him to peek outside while hiding his body behind the white wood.

A young lady. She looks flustered when she finally sees Nikolai, and a little gasp escapes her mouth.

“Hi, miss,” Nikolai says. “Something wrong?”

“Oh! Uh… not really… Uh, are you new here? I haven’t seen your face before.” The lady asks, giving him an awkward smile.

“Yes. I just moved in a few days ago.” He replies. His tone is friendly, but that effort is the hardest thing ever because Nikolai is frankly annoyed that his sleep time is interrupted like this.

“Right! I hope you are having fun living here. H-Here… Butter cookies for you.” She finally hands him the blue container of butter cookies. Nikolai takes it, chuckling as he thanks her. The lady just nods before she rubs her neck, eyes gazing away. “A-Actually, there’s another thing I wanna ask… Do you live alone?”

Nikolai’s eyebrow jerks. He does not want to overthink this early, but only his name is registered as a resident here. Though it is just on a written contract.

“What’s the matter with that?” He asks the lady.

“Uhm… I’m not coming at you like this in a bad way but… uh… a couple nights ago… w-we heard noises…”

“Noises…?”

The lady’s fair skin begins to bleed a red hue. She bites her lips, as if she is regretting her life choices at this point. Her lips tremble before she whispers, “I mean like… b-bedroom noises…”

Oh, now Nikolai is fully awake.

“Oh my…” He grins mischievously—begone the sleepiness and dizziness.

“Y-Yeah… I-I don’t know if you have a girlfriend or you bring someone over, but uhh… my mom felt bothered by it. I don’t personally mind, okay? It’s just, you know, old people have sensitive hearing sometimes.”

“No, no, it’s totally our fault, miss. I’m sorry for the noises— Pfft—” Nikolai quickly subdues his laugh, pressing his lips together hard. “I’ll be sure to be more considerate. Thanks for the cookies!”

Bam!

“Yeah— Huh?”

Nikolai ignores the confused lady still outside his unit after he just slammed the door in her face. He turns around, eyes wide open, when he sees you standing against the wall—a perfect blind spot from the lady too.

“Who was that?” You ask. Nikolai shrugs, placing the cookies container on the dining table. You approach him, reaching the container with a happy smile on your face. Yes, more snacks!

“Just our neighbour.” He replies.

“Oh! What’d they want?”

“She had a very serious complaint.”

You freeze, looking at him with a frown. “Huh? Why? What happened? What did you do to the people of this building?”

Nikolai glares at you briefly—how dare you just accuse him unprovoked.

“I didn’t do anything. You did!”

“What? Why? I’ve been good!”

“Oh, you’ve been good, alright. You’ve been sooo good that our neighbours were very impressed with your good girl noises.” He smirks, and it gets broader when you shriek in embarrassment, realising immediately about the ‘complaint’ he was talking about.

“I-It’s not my fault!”

“Perhaps. But you’re still the one moaning and screaming, huh?”

You pout, turning your face away as you are getting too shy to look at him in the eye. Nikolai chuckles, taking your chin to make you look at him again.

“Well, I guess we can fix that tonight… Unconventionally.”

©cherikolya 2026 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

“Ugh… even sitting is so tiring…” You murmur. Nikolai only bought economy class tickets for this ride from Moscow to St. Petersburg, so the legroom is quite limited. Hells, it is he who dominated all the space because his legs are longer than yours. “How much longer are we going to sit here?” You ask, almost sounds like you are whining.

“About forty-five minutes left, I think,” Nikolai replies with a smile. “What, your butt is aching?”

“O-Of course! Isn’t yours too?” You pout. “When you have sat for two hours, you need to stand for two hours too.”

“Oh!” He nods with a broad smile. “I see! That completely makes sense, little dove.”

“Are we going to sleep at a hotel for a night after this?” You ask, watching his hand mindlessly massaging your ankle and heel as the other is holding his phone.

“Hmm~ We’ll wait for my acquaintance to come and pick us up to my new house. I had an apartment unit before, but it is gone now because I got in prison, so we have to settle down by today.” He tells you. You let out a loud sigh, wiggling your foot as a protest.

“Can’t we just continue the journey tomorrow? I’m tired, and I’m sure you are tired too,” You say, playfully nudging his thigh with your foot. “Why don’t we just book a motel room—a cheap one will do—and you know, do the rest of settling down tomorrow? We’re gonna arrive at Petersburg when it’s dinner time anyway.” You attempt to convince him.

Unfortunately, Nikolai shakes his head, “Nope, little dove. I said what I said. Don’t complain so much now, after all I’ve done for you. Don’t be a bad girl.”

Your shoulders drop. “Okay…”

He cackles at your sulky face. “It’s not like you have a job or some kind of productive shit to do.”

“You’re right…” You hum, tapping your chin. “Kolya, what if I try to find a job when we get there? It’d be nice if I could get extra money for myself.”

“Sure, up to you.”

“You’ve lived in Petersburg before, right? Maybe you can ask your friends to give me a job to do? Like with Olga.”

Nikolai smacks his lips, eyes squinted as he crosses his arms. “Mmm… nah. Too dangerous. I mostly know bad people, and they're not gonna pay you to serve customers, my love. Just walk into some legit-looking convenience stores and ask them if they have a vacancy. The classic.” He shrugs. “What job do you have in mind anyway?”

“Waitress,” You reply. “I don’t know, I prefer jobs with interactions. Cashier feels like being a statue.” A playful, naughty smile appears on your face. “What if I try to be an escort—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I will lock you up, love. I swear.”

— ✿

Welcome to St. Petersburg—the old sign says.

The cold air is breezing harshly; the winter is fiercer compared to the places you used to call home. People are coming in and out of the station, most in haste. Your presence is insignificant enough that people do not even register you. Some even bump against you as you are trying to navigate the crowd, following the taller one.

There is a feeling of déjà vu to it.

Your footsteps are copying Nikolai’s as you hold his arm tightly. He seems to know his way around because the two of you arrive at the exit gate of the station without any halt of confusion about where to go. When you two are finally out of the station, he leads you to the parking lot of the station.

“Are we waiting for your friend?” You ask.

“Mm-hm,” Nikolai nods, checking his phone. “He said he’s already arrived though… Or am I just blind?” He murmurs.

“What does he look like? Maybe I can see better than you.”

He looks offended for a second. He snorts then, “Honestly, I barely remember his face. I might recognise him if I see him, but it’s been like eight, nine years. I’ll just text him our location.” He returns his attention to his phone, typing something before he turns it off and keeps it in his pocket. Immediately after, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from the same pocket, taking one out to smoke one.

You stare at Nikolai, taking in his appearance—black sweater beneath a half-black, half-white parka coat. He has put his hair in a single braid, a tiny pompom with a pink ribbon at the end of it. He seems to notice your bold stare. So he takes a drag of his cigarette, turns to you and blows the smoke directly at your face.

“Aah! The hell!”

“Don’t stare at me like I’m ugly.”

“That’s not my intention at all…!” You retort, flapping your hand at the front of your face. “I-I’m just admiring you. Because… well, I think you’re very unique for a man.”

Nikolai smirks, nodding. “Ooh~ tell me more, sweetheart.”

“Kolya, why did you decide to keep your hair long? It’s very, very rare to see a guy keeping long hair, unless they’re like… uh… fans of hard metal music. Yeah? Hm? Do you even know what metal is? It's like rock music but with people screeching.” You grin from ear to ear.

“Yes, I do know metal. The hell do you think I am?” He grumbles. “That was a good question. The simple answer is because I look prettier, that's why.”

“Mm-hm, but you’re already handsome, though. If you’re the pretty one and the handsome one out of both of us, then what’s left for me?” You pout adorably, receiving his astonished scoff.

“Flirty cheeky bird.” He chuckles, nudging your chin teasingly. You giggle at his light touch. “Well, obviously you’re gonna be the cute one. But wait. I’m also cute, so you can’t really hold that title. I guess we can share. You and I are both cute. You’re cuter if that makes you feel any better.”

“Hey, now you’re just hogging all the titles. You’re greedy.”

“I think I can be more greedy when it’s about you.”

You look at him, confused, seeing how his eyes travel down over your body for a few seconds. A tiny smirk crooks on his lips, making you fidget nervously.

What does he mean by that?

“U-Uhm, have you seen your friend now?” You quickly change the subject, attempting a genuine-looking smile that looks more awkward than it already is. He scoffs, noticing your attempt to get away.

“No. Not yet, at least.”

“Can we trust him? I mean, he’s probably a very shady person.”

“Don’t worry. Even if he doesn’t have good intentions, he won’t attempt things against me. He used to run some errands for Fyodor’s organisation, you see.” Nikolai says.

Fyodor. You almost forgot that the whole reason you are here is because of Nikolai’s pursuit towards that guy. Perhaps you have been subconsciously trying to drag his time from his death. You do not understand it—how important can one be that someone else will go through nooks and crannies to seek them? If it is the authorities, sure, you can understand the effort. But mere acquaintances? ‘Friends’? No, it is a strange concept for you. You do not think you will be missed, let alone sought, if you are gone.

Not even Dad gave a shit.

“Uhm… Fyodor has an organisation? Didn’t he like working alongside you? Like on the same level?” You ask curiously.

“Nah,” He pauses to smoke a little bit. “Before our terrorism agenda, he had his own puppets. I’m pretty sure I’m the most normal out of everyone else in our group.”

You tilt your head, confusion clouding in. “What do you mean by normal…?” How normal and sane can Nikolai be, compared to his peers before? Even now, the way he lives and navigates through life is already abnormal for you—which says a lot since you do not even have a childhood experience that would be considered ‘normal’ for an average person.

“Like… I was literally a boring human male in his 20s in a group of… well, for the lack of a better word, non-human entities.”

You gasp, looking around before you lean in to whisper—although you two have not been bothered by being secretive about terrorism talks in public. “So… is Fyodor not human? Is he like a monster?”

Nikolai shrugs. “Who knows.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not even sure how his ability works.”

“How come you’re ‘close’ friends with him then?”

He glares at you briefly but says nothing. You tilt your head, waiting for his response, but he is clearly avoiding it, so you decide to not push any further. You can barely fathom his mind anyway—you wonder how scary it would get if you were to dive into the entirety of his so-called sanity.

“Hey, friend!”

Nikolai’s head turns to his left, and you follow his eye. A dark red car is parked not far from you, and a man in a brown coat and a ushanka is waving at you two.

“Is that him?” You ask.

“Mmm, seems like it. Yeah, I know that face. I definitely know that stupid smile.” He says, before he gestures to you to get the luggage and follow him. You scramble, pulling the luggage through the rocky road and hastily following him to the car. The man’s grin is friendly and broad, and he looks visibly excited when he sees you.

“Oh, hey, who’s this, Gogol?” He asks the man beside you.

“My girlfriend.”

Your heart jumps, and your chest begins to contract—embarrassment and fluster crawling in your nerves. You frantically look at Nikolai, who is nonchalant as ever. “G-Girlfriend…! Girlfriend… I-I’m girlfriend…” You utter, mostly to yourself. The man looks surprised and laughs.

“Are you sure she’s not forced to be? She doesn’t look like she knows you. She looks lost, hahaha!” Nikolai only glares at his acquaintance, making the guy sneer, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Not available to look, eh?” He teases before he turns to you. “Hello, cutie. I’m Khlestakov, an inspector.”

“Inspector? What kind?” You ask.

“The government kind.” Khlestakov pats Nikolai’s back. “Okay, come on. Get in the car. I have people to audit after this. It won’t take long if we speed up to avoid all the jams.” He opens the trunk of his car and takes the luggage from you.

“Come.” Nikolai grabs your wrist, pulling you to get into the backseat. The car is nicer than you thought, but it does not compare to the one Nikolai had back at home. You sigh internally, already missing the place and the people. A twinkle of concern is still lingering in your mind regarding Vasily’s status. You really wished you could have had a little bit of time for a farewell. But now you can only pray that he is fine and well, and Cherevyk is taking care of him or something.

You only listen to the conversation between Nikolai and Khlestakov. However, it looks like Nikolai does not really engage much with the questions Khlestakov gave to him. Khlestakov is a conman, you think. From what he was telling Nikolai—who was not interested—apparently, he became an inspector by accident because some officials mistakenly thought he was a real inspector. Funny enough, he looks like he enjoys the thrill of tricking the officials because he has been keeping up the act for long.

“Damn, the traffic seems to be bad today,” Khlestakov says when the car slows down until it stops within the line of traffic. “Eh… you aren’t in a rush, are you, friend?” He asks.

“No, I’m good. Little missy over here wants to get home really quickly, though.” Nikolai playfully tugs your hair, and you return with a soft smack on his hand.

“Little missy, huh? What’s your name, missy? Have you been well?”

Before you can open your mouth, Nikolai grips your wrist tightly as a warning. You look at him, confused, and you could only flail your hand. “She’s fine wherever she is.”

“Are we sure?” Khlestakov looks at you through the reflection in the mirror. “You okay, missy?”

“I-I’m okay,” You say. “Kolya’s been very nice to me.” Nikolai nods proudly at himself. “But sometimes he can be too mean and very bad towards me, and I think he owes me something as a big apology, don't you think, Mr Inspector?”

“Woah…! This one is bold, huh?” Khlestakov laughs, not realising Nikolai’s annoyed pout towards you. You only beam innocently, receiving another tug on your hair.

“That won’t do, Gogol. You gotta treat the ladies nicely now. Say sorry to her.”

“I’ve done that before, actually.” Nikolai rolls his eyes, irritated that he is being lectured by a conman who barely has his life put together.

“Well, do it again!”

“Shut up.”

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling a cackle. Nikolai glances at you for a second before a soft smile flashes on his face.

— ✿

It takes about ten minutes to get out of the traffic jam. You are already asleep, bored out of your mind. Tap… tap… tap…—Your head was bumping against the window, and before you would wake up with a lump on your head, Nikolai gently pulled you to lie your head on his lap instead. So now you are comfortably napping on him.

“Where’d you find her?” Khlestakov suddenly asks, his voice is quieter, so you would not be jolted awake.

“Just a nightclub,” Nikolai murmurs, his knuckles brushing your hair.

“Just a club, really? You’re too sophisticated of a man to do that.” The driver says sceptically. “So, you’re flirting, had sex, and just decided to date? I don’t remember you being a guy like that. Usually, your pursuit will take a while, yeah?”

“Maybe you remembered wrong.”

“She’s very cute, I have to say.”

His eyes glare hard for a second at the mouthy driver. Nikolai is about to warn him, but he babbles more, “You gotta hold on to her tightly, my friend. Anyone can snatch her up if you look just the other way. Keep her safe and sound in your overcoat.”

“Oh, I will.” Nikolai snickers to himself, eyes on your serene sleeping face. “It’s not my first time doing that.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He says quickly before leaning back. “How much longer will this ride take? You couldn’t get any faster?” He asks, diverting the subject before Khlestakov makes more uncomfortable remarks. The latter checks his phone, which is currently running a navigation app.

“About seven minutes more. But friend, can we stop by a petrol station? My stomach has been aching since the jam, you see. Don’t want any weird smell to get stuck in my car now, yes?” His grin is silly enough that Nikolai only groans, huffing in his seat.

“Whatever. Just don’t take too long. She’s tired already.”

“Yes, sir!”

Khlestakov makes a stop, moving out of the planned route concocted by the navigation app. He drives for a couple of minutes until he stops by a petrol station and parks in the visitors’ parking. “I won’t take long!” He promises as he leaves the car with the engine still running.

Nikolai sighs when he is left alone in the car with you. He hovers a little over you and shakes your body lightly to wake you up. You stir, lips mumbling something that he could not understand. He shakes you again. “Wake up, baby. How long are you gonna take your princess nap, hmm?”

You mewl softly. “Don’t bother me, Kolya…” You adjust your head on his thigh, pushing his hand away.

“Did you just say ‘Don’t bother me’?” He clicks his tongue, fingertips trace lightly on your face. “Even when barely conscious, you still have a naughty mouth, huh?” He gently places his fingers on your jaw, enclosing slowly before his thumb rubs your chin.

Your eyes flutter slightly.

“Mm… go a-away…” You murmur sleepily.

Nikolai stares at your face, his eyes darkened. The thumb that is gently caressing your chin slowly trails up to your lower lip. You make a small, confused noise, tilting your head slightly to avoid his touch. But he tightens his grip on your face, and with an amused smirk, he slips his thumb between your lips.

You blink your eyes open, confused. Hand panicking, you grasp his arm.

Your tongue tries to push his finger out, but he only presses further, bullying your panic to its high.

“I like… to see… how far I can push myself to do things to someone I love,” He says, voice low and whispering. “I was so determined to kill Fedya. Because I really like him. If I want to prove that I’m not confined to just the essentials of love, I should be able to defy it, right? I mean, who would hurt someone they love? But isn’t that just a predetermined rule from our own skull? If I follow it all along, how can I prove myself to be free from such control? Isn’t that something to think about?”

Your breathing is heavy.

“If I like you… If I love you, do you think I can hurt you?” He asks calmly. “And if you love me, can you hurt me too?”

You try your best to shake your head. He scoffs before he laughs softly. “What’s that ‘no’ for?”

A loud, pitiful whimper leaves your mouth then, and he finally decides it is enough torment for you now. He pulls his finger out and chuckles. When you are free, you are about to get up from his lap, but he wraps his arm over your body, preventing you from moving, even if he does not hold you tight. But the weight of his arm on your torso is enough of a message for you to stay still.

He leans toward your ear, mismatched eyes eerily staring at you.

“Stay. I think I really like you.”

— ✿

“Alrighty, we’re here!”

You let out a long exhale of breath. You have been quiet ever since it departed from the petrol station, and you could not even sit up because Nikolai was holding you close to him since you woke up. Khlestakov and Nikolai were talking at times, and you only spoke a couple of words when Khlestakov asked you some random questions. But mostly, you are silent. It was not because of awkwardness; rather, it was because of Nikolai’s bizarre behaviour towards you.

Sticking a finger in your mouth, talking to you about scary mind stuff—oh God, you still do not know what to actually think about that. You wanted to get angry, but that feeling never came. You are more dazed, and that daze brews darker when you realise your stomach twists in a certain way as you recall the feeling of his finger in your mouth, of his hand seizing your jaw, and of his arm caging you.

It does not flutter in discomfort—an urge to push yourself away from him and run as far as you can until your legs tire. No, no, no. No, it flutters little flowers, delights that slither to your heart. It is like his handprint is all over your face, and you wish the sensation would linger lower. Lower, lower—maybe to your neck, wrapped, or maybe to your stomach, fondled.

But that would be too much to ask for.

You are not going to sit and pretend that you are all that innocent of what is entailing the burn in your heart right now. This is not something foreign when you have seen and heard people having mad fucking sex in the club before. Those ridiculous requests people ask of you are still funny memories to reminisce on.

You want to feel his hand on you again.

But you are not going to request that out loud—maybe you could try, but you are too embarrassed about it. It feels like you are desperate for a man’s attention—which, to be fair, you actually are to him. You are not even sure if he actually has that kind of desire with you, or if he is just bullshitting around like he often does.

You get out of the car, following Nikolai. You watch him bid a half-hearted farewell to Khlestakov, and the ‘inspector’ waves his hand at both of you. You return one with a smile.

“Alright, don’t bye-bye him for too long now. Come on, you said you’re tired.” He says, before he holds your wrist with one hand and pulls the luggage with the other. The building in front of you is a six-storey flat, painted whitish beige. Its design is fairly modern compared to the brutal concrete of Nikolai’s last apartment. There is a grassy lawn at the front of the building with a non-functioning fountain in the middle.

“Look, so many birdies,” Nikolai exclaims, pausing his steps when he sees a flock of pigeons lounging around the fountain. You look at him, a little surprised to see the genuine glimmer in his eyes. “I need to buy breadcrumbs to feed them every morning.” He nods to himself, already making a plan for his new routine.

“But Kolya, look.” You point at the ‘No Feeding Birds’ sign perched on the lawn. “It’s not allowed to do that. You’re gonna encourage the birds to poop everywhere.”

“Ugh. It’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” He says, before suddenly, the sign disappears into the ground, completely gone from public sight. “There, hehe. Problem removed.” You turn to him, seeing that he is holding open the coat he is wearing.

“Kolya, you can’t just use your powers like that…!”

“I can do whatever I want.” He says before he releases his grip on your wrist. He seems light-hearted now, compared to the odd behaviour in Khlestakov’s car. “Great! Now we have a morning routine. Remind me to buy some nuts for the birdies. Can’t let your family starve, right?”

You blink at him, baffled, but nod regardless, supporting whatever eccentricity he has in mind. He leads you further into the building area. The garden is filled with some children riding bicycles, and there is an ice-cream stall nearby too. Some teenagers are gathering by the fountain, probably on their way to play football.

When you enter the building, there is a staircase on the right side of the hallway. There are rows and columns of mailboxes on the wall on your left. You follow Nikolai, walking past the staircase to reach a single elevator that is just right behind it. The elevator is unused as the door opens immediately when he presses the ‘up’ button. Getting inside, he then presses the ‘4’ button.

“Don’t we have to meet the homeowner? Or are we going to see them later?” You ask.

“He’s not in Peters at the moment, but he’ll come visit once he comes back. Probably in the next two weeks.” Nikolai replies. The elevator pings, and the door slides open. He steps out, turning to the right. “He leaves the key under the doormat, so we’re fine. If there’s no key, well, we’ll break in through the windows.”

“I’m not athletic enough to climb in, Kolya.”

“Are you at least flexible though?”

“Mmm… I dunno. Why?”

Well, I can help with that, hehe—Nikolai replies in his head. He stifles a chuckle but immediately puts up a poker face. You tilt your head confusedly but shrug it off. Maybe Kolya just thinks too fast!—you assume in your head.

Nikolai takes the key under the doormat and unlocks the door grille before the main actual door. He pushes it open, nudging you to go inside first. So you step in, gasping in awe as your eyes scan the whole interior—so much better than his last apartment.

The walls are in ivory shade. The wooden furniture looks new and modern. There is a leather sofa in the living room, placed in front of a coffee table and a television that is on a brown cabinet. You walk further inside, finding the kitchen—empty yet also complete with essential appliances. A room near the kitchen is the laundry room, you think, as there is a washing machine and a dryer with a steel clothing rack. You turn the other way to find the bedrooms. The first one you see is empty and quite small. There is only a desk and a chair that looks vintage, but upon further inspection, it is surely not something that came out three decades ago. Despite the functioning lights and ceiling fan, it does not seem like the room will be utilised. You turn around again to the bathroom across the way. There is a bathtub, and beside it is a shower room. The shower room’s door is clear glass—you wonder how much privacy it can offer. The sink is quite big too, with enough room for a vanity.

Satisfied with the bathroom, you leave it and get to the last room in the house. As you expected, it is the master bedroom, and Nikolai surely has planned it all for his comfort because the room is complete. A king-sized bed with expensive-looking sheets and a duvet. What is also cuter is that the sheets are champagne beige-coloured with a repeating cherry pattern.

You plop down onto the bed, squealing happily. It’s sooo comfy!—You giggle to yourself, already imagining how good a sleep you will get tonight.

“Ahem, ahem. I don’t recall allowing anyone to get on the bed.”

You sit up straight and look over your shoulder, seeing that Nikolai is looking at you with a smirk on his face. He points a thumb to the outside of the bedroom. “You take the sofa.”

“What?!” You yelp. “Kolya, that’s not fair! See, the bedsheets have cherries. That’s basically for me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“But still, it makes even no sense to let me sleep on the sofa… a leather one too! We can just sleep together.”

His gaze darkens again as a tiny smirk arises on his lips. “Are you sure you want that?”

That twist in your stomach tingles again. You quickly look away, clutching your shirt. “Uhm… I’ll think about it…?”

He snorts, chuckling at your reaction. “Alright, little dove.” He nods. “All your stuff is in the living room. You can put them in this closet right here.” He walks to the wardrobe beside the bed, sliding the door open.

You figure he must have taken out all the extra personal items from his ‘secret space’ while you were exploring earlier. “Okay. Do you want me to keep your belongings too?” You offer kindly. After all, he has gone through so many troubles for you.

“Mmm, nah, I’ll take care of it myself. I gotta go to the bathroom.” He says, making a stretch while he leaves the bedroom. You proceed to the living room, finding a mountain of your other clothes on the sofa. You do not think most of those clothes are washed, so you weigh your choices whether to do laundry first before keeping them or not.

But the time outside is slowly going dark, and you are not sure if you want to be diligent at this hour. At this time, you should get dinner, wash yourself and go to sleep. Planning to deal with your clothes tomorrow morning, you decide to just keep them in the laundry basket from the laundry room.

You catch a glimpse of Nikolai’s half-naked body leaving the bathroom and going into the bedroom before the door closes. You stare at the closed door before giving up and turn your attention to the television instead. Much to your surprise, even the television is full of a variety of channels. You end up choosing a reality TV show, which you find entertaining yet cringe-worthy at the same time. It is clear that the show is heavily scripted; even the jokes and the laughter are unnatural. But there is a charm in their fakery.

“Hey, do you want dinner? I’m just gonna order some pizza because I’m fucking lazy right now.” Nikolai’s voice echoes through the hallway as he approaches you and sits next to you on the sofa.

“That’s fine with me,” You say. “Do we have plates and cups and—”

“Yup, yup, yup and yup. This unit is fully furnished with essentials. But we do have to buy some more stuff to fill that kitchen. We need the important ingredients and food—salt, sugar, sauces, spices, milk, cereal, vodkas. We need vodkas.” You glare at him but comment nothing. “You good with cooking?” Nikolai asks, not noticing your judging eyes, as he is still focused on ordering pizza.

“I can. It’s just that you very, very rarely buy groceries, so I couldn’t even cook. But look, the kitchen seems nice.” You say, eyeing the kitchen—the dining table is rectangular with stools instead of usual chairs, arranged in the middle of the space. “Maybe I can cook you some food from my hometown.”

Nikolai only smiles. “You’d really make a good girlfriend.”

— ✿

Nikolai is sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone. He has been reading the messages Viktor sent to him since yesterday, but he has no intention of answering any of them. He sighs before tossing the phone to the side of his pillow. He has not seen you for a while now, after you two finished dinner.

The silence and your absence are kind of killing him. He wants to keep you within his sight, but he is aware that you seem apprehensive for the past moment. As if you are scared of him—or something that comes from him. But what is love without the acceptance of one’s flaws?

Nikolai sighs—this whole thing is truly unplanned. From the moment he decided to pick you back up from your old home, to then bring you to the other side of the big country. He never plans this night to be another day of breathing, another chance to see the moon. He is at the heart of Russia now, where his old friend was last seen.

He has a mission, damn it. He wants to kill Fyodor and truly be free. But now he is having a second— third, fourth thought about it. What he planned is to find Fyodor and shoot him in the head, point-blank.

Nikolai could have just done it today. He has every chance to continue on with his plan, every moment to just leave you and go on with his life. But he hesitates, and that hesitation grows to countless thoughts—what if Ivan found you? What if Fyodor sought you? What if you’re kidnapped by someone else? What if you found someone else?

He does not plan to be in love. So why does everything he does up to this point seem to be a symptom of it?

He groans. This is what happens when he decides to follow his emotional heart. He wants to get rid of this blossoming feeling within him—free from it, liberate all of his soul. Yet, hesitations wave over, clouding his judgment again and again.

It disappoints him to just put aside his ideals like this, especially for another person he never wanted to consider a friend—you. You are etching yourself into his mind and heart, just like Fyodor did—and Nikolai does not like it. If that is the case, then you must suffer the same consequences as Fyodor will reap.

You must die, so he can prove himself to be free from this ‘brainwashing’.

But he halts then. You? Die? Gone, just disappear without a name for yourself? His chest aches at the mere thought of your absolute absence—a familiar sensation that he once felt so deeply when he hugged the mutilated arm of Fyodor’s ‘corpse’.

As he is drowning in his thoughts, he hears a tiny sound of the door being opened. He looks over his shoulder, only to see you peeking from the outside through the small gap. You seem surprised that he noticed you, and you are about to step away before he calls out your name.

“Y-Yes?” You ask, voice unsure.

“Can you come here, little dove?” Nikolai says. He sees you fidgeting in your spot, wagering your choice. He sees a glimpse of blue from the gap, hoping that you are not wearing your baby blue dress tonight. He just does not want to deal with lust that will add to the chaos in his head.

But his hope shatters immediately when you slowly open the door and step towards him. Baby blue. You have no cardigan on, not even your socks.

He stretches out his fingers before gripping the bedsheets as he watches you approaching him.

So cute…

So cute, I wanna eat you.

He licks his lips, extending his hand to gently grab your hand to lead you to stand right between his legs. The way his fingers wrap around your wrist is perfect. The way you fit right in his proximity is too perfect.

“W-What’s wrong, Kolya?” You ask.

“Nothing wrong. I just miss you.” Nikolai places both of his hands on each side of your hips. You flinch slightly at his words, and fluster creeps up to your face. You awkwardly hug yourself, both hands rub your arms that are covered with goosebumps.

“O-Oh… I thought I did something wrong.” You give him a tiny, relieved smile.

“Maybe you did.” His gaze travels down your body before one of his hands slides down to your thigh, pulling you to stagger onto his lap. Your hands frantically hold down the skirt of your dress as it rides up your thighs.

“Cute.” He smirks before he leans in, kissing and licking your collarbone. You shriek in surprise, clutching your heart as if it is going to jump out and be devoured. “What have you been doing behind my back, sweetheart?” He asks casually.

“Huh?”

Why is he acting like nothing just happened?

Your brain probably short-circuits at this point, baffled at his nonchalance. You part your lips, nervousness seeping out as shaky breath.

“I-I… I just… Uh, loading my clothes into the washer.”

“You’ve been hiding from me in the laundry room?”

“I’m not hiding…! I just… I was just doing a task.”

Nikolai squints his eyes, nodding. “Mm. So, you’ve been washing clothes for two hours?”

“W-Well, I usually take good care of my clothes, so I took longer than you for sure.” You quickly retort with a bunch of nonsense, only receiving his little chuckle. He rests his head against your chest, sighing softly. Mustering up a little confidence, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Kolya, do you have plans tomorrow?”

He tilts his head, face buried in your upper chest, thinking. Yes, he does have plans. A well-thought-out plan he had in mind since he was thrown into prison. He is going to spend his morning pinpointing Fyodor’s location, spend his afternoon with the last meal of his life, spend his evening chasing after the guy, and spend his night murdering or getting murdered.

Viktor was totally correct. He came here to die. No one is foolish enough to pick a fight with Dostoyevsky, someone who has infamously ignited a global-scale supernatural terrorism. Even the Port Mafia, which controlled the night of Yokohama, suffered great losses from Fyodor’s whims.

“Nikolai?”

“No,” He pauses. “I don’t have plans for tomorrow.”

“O-Oh..!” You smile. Cute. You make him smile too, albeit a little sinister. “T-Then, what if we go out together tomorrow? Shopping? Or you can bring me to visit fun places?”

“I’ll think about it, love.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good enough for me.” You say, fingers playing with his hair. “I just wanna spend some more time with you.”

“Are we sure you’re not just trying to delay my meeting with Fedya?”

Your little flinch at his guess does not leave his attention. Nikolai knows you are still holding on to those words Viktor said to you—“Hey, girl. Don’t let him die in a ditch, yeah? He tends to do that sometimes.”

“I-I just want you to be happy and… you know… not die.”

“Mm, is that so? You’re just gonna ask me about my plans every day then?” You nod.

Nikolai curls a knowing smile against your skin before he lifts his face, placing a soft kiss on your chest. You freeze as his kisses pepper their way up to your neck. A gasp leaves your lips when he kisses a spot on your neck, making you squirm on his lap.

“You’re so cute…” He nibbles your skin, and you mewl, hugging him tighter. His nimble finger hooks the strap of your dress. He glances at your face, smirking at the way your fluster is overwhelmingly present in your expression. Your eyes are frantically darting from him to his hand. Your chest is heaving heavily—your attempt to even out your breathing is just amusing to watch. “You’re so cute, it makes me want to eat you alive.”

“Nikolai… what are you doing to me?”

“Well,” He smirks, brushing his knuckles over your chest, circling lightly over one of your peaks. You shiver, fingers itching to push his naughty hand away, but you do not. “I do have a plan for tonight though.”

Nikolai gives a long lick on your neck to your jaw before he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a deep kiss. Your gasp is cut short as his tongue takes the instant chance to slip inside your mouth, tasting you. Eyes shut, your body arches close, fingers raking his hair and nape.

He lets out a small groan between the kiss—your lips are just soft, contrasting the mess and desperation he brings in the way his lips move against yours. Tongues and teeth, you whine as you pull away, gasping for air to calm your heart. But Nikolai is rough—he catches your lips again as his hand slips beneath your dress, crawling, etching. The warmth of his palm covers your waist as it travels up to your breast, shamelessly groping and fondling you until heat courses down your loins.

Your head is spinning. Your hips are rowing above his lap, seeking friction, seeking a touch.

As if he reads your mind, Nikolai suddenly pulls you to the bed, slamming you down on the mattress. He hovers over you then, and before you can process it, his lips cover your neck again, nibbling harder on your skin, forming roses. You moan breathily, closing your eyes to the little pleasure. Your fingers seek him, grabbing his arms tight.

In the midst of your haze, you feel your legs are pried open. Your eyes flutter open, seeing him between them. Your breath hitches as he places kisses and soft bites along your inner thigh. He pushes your dress up, tracing your tummy with his fingers before they stroll down, teasing the damp spot of your pussy. You whine loudly, embarrassment clouding inside your mind as you quickly try to close your legs, only for him to put more pressure of his fingers against your clit.

“Oh, God…!”

“Oh God it’s finally happening, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips at the sight in front of him. His face is blushing hard—just like this morning. Nikolai runs his fingers over your slit, and your hips squirm. Your body tenses as he hooks your panties, tugging them tight in between your slit.

“A-Aah…! Mmngh… p-please…” You let out a shaky whimper, glancing down at the man. His gaze is gleaming in excitement—naughty—before he leans down, and with a shameless moan, he licks your pussy over the panties. “G-God…!” You whine again, shuddering at the wetness accumulating on your core, legs shaking.

He pulls down your panties, then tosses them to the side. Nikolai pauses, chuckling at the bare view of your cunt—wet, as if she is begging for it already. His heart beats fast, rushing his blood to his dick—Fuck, you’re too perfect. His thumb reaches out to your slit, nudging in between as it slides to rub your aching clit. Your whine echoes louder as you slam your hands on your mouth and close your thighs, only to trap his hand between them.

“Don’t be shy now,” He whispers, voice low and sultry, thundering to your heart. “I thought you wanted to give me a gift, sweetheart.”

He leans down, smooching your forehead as his finger puts more pressure on your clit, rubbing it in tiny circles. Your thighs quiver around his arm, hips rolling upward shyly. Your body jerks lightly at the little shocks of delight surging within your nerves.

“I-It’s too much…”

“This is too much? Awh, poor baby…” He coos mockingly, hastening the way the pad of his finger twirls over your bundle of nerves. With another hand, he shoves one of your legs to the side, pressing it down to keep yourself open for him. You whine, toes curled.

He slides down, landing soft kisses over your tummy before his hands hold your hips, and he buries his mouth against your cunt. “Aah~!" accompanying his sloppy sounds between your legs. His warm tongue lapping over your slit, nudging his face deeper to suffocate himself. Nikolai grips your thighs tightly, fondling your flesh that he has been dying to touch. His nails bury deep into your skin.

The tinge of pain sends a sparkling sensation all over you. Hurt, hurt, and delights as you thrust your hips against his face, feeling the nuzzle of his nose in your sensitive clit. Your vision is starry, glitters filling in your mind as your hands are gripping the sheets, the fabric of your dress, your chest, before one of them pulls on Nikolai’s hair.

“Ooh… fuck…” He groans, his mismatched eyes glaring up at you. He pulls you close, lapping his tongue over your quivering hole. He tilts his head, sucking on your clit. A loud, high-pitched whine leaves your mouth as you try to move your hips—away or towards, you do not know. You feel his grip on your thighs loosen, allowing you to close your legs, trapping his head in between.

Your body shakes, eyes tearing up as he sucks harder. The sloppy and wet noises are mixing with your moans and his groans. You shudder, legs trembling as your cunt gushes around his teasing tongue. “Haaa….” You whimper as your breathing slows down. Your hand caresses his hair as your hips roll subtly against his face again. Nikolai lifts his face, a perverted smile on him.

“Are you proud of me?” He asks, giving kitten licks on your folds. You just nod—not even hearing his question. “Greedy girl,” He chuckles, his tongue catching the string of saliva and arousal. You want to say something to him, but all that you can emit is just whining and broken attempts to say his name. You feel a nudge against your pussy—a familiar one. Throwing your arms over your face, you mewl softly as Nikolai slowly slides a finger inside.

“Aannh…! F-Fuck…!” Your hips jerk up, and his mouth chases your cunt again, staying right where he wants. Nikolai gently pushes in, slick covering his finger, tongue dancing on your clit. He pushes another digit in, rowing both of them between your walls. Long, thick ones thrusting in and out of you, stirring every spot that ignites your mounting lust.

Your moan is loud, and you can only clench your own dress as he lifts himself from between your legs. Your legs are tense as he hastens his fingers deep inside you, making wave motions. His thumb presses on your clit, rolling the poor bud.

“G-God…! Aah~! Aah..! Mmh—!” You swear you can only see stars. Your body shakes, back arches, eyes teary. A low cackle makes you blink profusely, trying to look at him—only for your heart to beat faster than it already is when you see what he has been doing.

One hand is pleasuring you. Another is stroking himself—Nikolai does not even bother to pull his pants down fully. His fingers wrapped nicely around his dick, stroking back and forth, coating his thick girth with his precum.

Impatient bastard.

But Nikolai does not care anymore. His face is flushed, sweat dripping on his forehead, neck and chest. Perhaps it is your arousal that makes it hard for you to think logically, but all that is lodged in your head now is how much you want to taste every inch of his sweaty skin.

The single thought of him driving his cock inside you flips your stomach upside down. Your pussy clenches—excited, needy—around his fingers. His gaze glimmers then.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl behaviour.”

Clenches. Tighter.

Heat travels all over your body while his fingers are teasing with your insides, before your desperate hand claws on his shoulder. You whimper as your pussy gushes again, adding to the wetness beneath you. Nikolai bites his lips, thrusting a couple times inside your sensitive cunt—you jolt, as if an electric shock hits you—before he pulls out and sucks both of his fingers, as his eyes are sharp on you.

Embarrassment suddenly breaks into you, and you just pull your dress over your face. You wince, your pussy clenches around nothing, still hungry for more of him.

You hear shuffling noise, and you take a peek, only to see that Nikolai is undressing himself. You have seen his bare body many times before, but the way he is glistening with sweat makes your fingertips itch to touch him. Your eyes travel all over him before you nervously glance down.

Oh my God…

You gulp, perhaps salivating.

Oh goodness…

“Like what you see?”

Your eyes shoot up to him, seeing his perverted grin as he crawls over to you. His hand brushes against your wet cunt, teasing your quivering hole with his fingers again. You whine softly, parting your legs as he places himself between them again. His eyes leer down as his thumb circles your sensitive clit lazily, igniting your spark once more.

“I love what I’m seeing too.”

He smooches your skin, trailing his little loves up to your lips. He wraps his hand around your neck, rubbing your rushing pulse. You whimper, your own hands holding his arm.

“Kolya…”

“Mm?”

“T-Too much…” You sniffle before you let out a broken gasp as Nikolai hooks his arm under your leg and grinds his hips against yours. He groans softly, enjoying the feeling of his bare girth against your pussy.

He is hard. Very much.

“Too much?” He smirks, kissing your cheek as he grinds more—his dick slipping between your folds, prodding your clit. You are breathing heavily, nodding fast at his little question. Nikolai chuckles, tightening the grip around your neck. Your eyes roll back slightly, before he brings his face close, messily licking your face.

“But you’re gonna be good for me, hm?” You nod—say yes to everything he does. He lets out an amused cackle before his hand disengages from your neck, and he taps your cheek a couple of times. “Good. Be good and keep up with me, pretty girl.”

In the fog of your mind, you feel his bulbous tip prodding your entrance. You moan softly, before your noise becomes louder and whinier as he pushes himself inside. His own groans match yours as he whimpers slightly at the way your cunt is nuzzling him. Nikolai lifts himself, grasping your thighs as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck— Ooh~ fuck me,” He breathes. “A-Aah… You feel— haa… f-fuck— so good, baby.”

Nikolai can just feel his blood rushing down, and his body is getting hot as he salivates over the sensation and the sight blessed upon him. His hips shake before he hovers over you, placing a hand beside your head before he starts thrusting, driving his cock deeper inside your warm heat.

He has been craving to be this close with you for so long, to be this intimate—close enough for his nails to rake the skin above your ribs, yearning to crawl inside you. His brain is already filled with aching lust—all the memories of his effort to not yield to his human desires towards you have dissipated away.

Your moan is a melody to his ears, spiking up his new obsession to hear more, to see more of that ecstasy in your face. He pulls out—not fully—before he slams his hips against yours, making you whine, body arches against him. The blue fabric that is still on you is already a mess—straps slipped off, neckline tugged down, and the skirt bundled up, revealing your soft tummy.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him down. Your legs wrap around his waist, caging him. Nikolai hisses, “S-Shit, baby…” he groans, his thrusts paused. He can feel your desperate attempt to row your hips to feel his dick toying with your insides. He raises his upper half, choking your neck again before he picks up his moves again.

His thrusts are hasty, a little more sloppy. You whimper, clenching your pussy hard around his girth. Rationale is long gone as he chases his climax, ramming himself in your already gushing cunt. He does not even bother to be vocal other than moaning out your name and repetitions of “God, you’re so perfect.”

“Oh~ fuck—” His thrusts are staggering now as he tries to pull out, but your legs around him are tense, refusing to let him go.

“Kolya…” You hold his shoulders, weakly pulling him close. But you lift yourself partially, trying to kiss his mouth, only for your lips to land on his neck instead. And you start to kiss his skin, receiving tiny grunts before he thrusts hard into you and stays—spilling his cum inside you.

“Fuck— O-Oh~ fucking hell…”

Nikolai’s whole body is shuddering as he feels the sloppy mess around his girth. His trembling hands hold your legs and pry them away from your body. You fall back to bed, chest heaving as he pulls out slowly.

He eyes down your cunt, squeezing out mess, soiling the cherry sheets. He rubs your trembling thighs before he leans to kiss your stomach. Sated—but his hunger for you only lies dormant. He kisses up to nibble your skin as his fingertips trace where your ribs would be. He presses down lightly, tendering the pads of his fingers as if he is creeping inside your body.

“You’re such…” He plants a soft kiss on the centre of your torso. “…a good girl for me, love.”

“Mmm…”

“I want to…” He murmurs, tongue teasing your skin. “…consume you.” Nikolai sighs, a little crazed smile on his face. “And when you bleed, it is only by me and for me.”

He pauses suddenly, realising how creepy he sounds, and you might pull away from him again—not after when both you and he have crossed the line of no return. Nikolai quickly looks back up at you, wanting to plead and retract his mania—

—only for him to find your eyes are shut, your chest is no longer breathing heavily.

Asleep. Naive.

©cherikolya 2026 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

“Ugh… even sitting is so tiring…” You murmur. Nikolai only bought economy class tickets for this ride from Moscow to St. Petersburg, so the legroom is quite limited. Hells, it is he who dominated all the space because his legs are longer than yours. “How much longer are we going to sit here?” You ask, almost sounds like you are whining.

“About forty-five minutes left, I think,” Nikolai replies with a smile. “What, your butt is aching?”

“O-Of course! Isn’t yours too?” You pout. “When you have sat for two hours, you need to stand for two hours too.”

“Oh!” He nods with a broad smile. “I see! That completely makes sense, little dove.”

“Are we going to sleep at a hotel for a night after this?” You ask, watching his hand mindlessly massaging your ankle and heel as the other is holding his phone.

“Hmm~ We’ll wait for my acquaintance to come and pick us up to my new house. I had an apartment unit before, but it is gone now because I got in prison, so we have to settle down by today.” He tells you. You let out a loud sigh, wiggling your foot as a protest.

“Can’t we just continue the journey tomorrow? I’m tired, and I’m sure you are tired too,” You say, playfully nudging his thigh with your foot. “Why don’t we just book a motel room—a cheap one will do—and you know, do the rest of settling down tomorrow? We’re gonna arrive at Petersburg when it’s dinner time anyway.” You attempt to convince him.

Unfortunately, Nikolai shakes his head, “Nope, little dove. I said what I said. Don’t complain so much now, after all I’ve done for you. Don’t be a bad girl.”

Your shoulders drop. “Okay…”

He cackles at your sulky face. “It’s not like you have a job or some kind of productive shit to do.”

“You’re right…” You hum, tapping your chin. “Kolya, what if I try to find a job when we get there? It’d be nice if I could get extra money for myself.”

“Sure, up to you.”

“You’ve lived in Petersburg before, right? Maybe you can ask your friends to give me a job to do? Like with Olga.”

Nikolai smacks his lips, eyes squinted as he crosses his arms. “Mmm… nah. Too dangerous. I mostly know bad people, and they're not gonna pay you to serve customers, my love. Just walk into some legit-looking convenience stores and ask them if they have a vacancy. The classic.” He shrugs. “What job do you have in mind anyway?”

“Waitress,” You reply. “I don’t know, I prefer jobs with interactions. Cashier feels like being a statue.” A playful, naughty smile appears on your face. “What if I try to be an escort—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I will lock you up, love. I swear.”

— ✿

Welcome to St. Petersburg—the old sign says.

The cold air is breezing harshly; the winter is fiercer compared to the places you used to call home. People are coming in and out of the station, most in haste. Your presence is insignificant enough that people do not even register you. Some even bump against you as you are trying to navigate the crowd, following the taller one.

There is a feeling of déjà vu to it.

Your footsteps are copying Nikolai’s as you hold his arm tightly. He seems to know his way around because the two of you arrive at the exit gate of the station without any halt of confusion about where to go. When you two are finally out of the station, he leads you to the parking lot of the station.

“Are we waiting for your friend?” You ask.

“Mm-hm,” Nikolai nods, checking his phone. “He said he’s already arrived though… Or am I just blind?” He murmurs.

“What does he look like? Maybe I can see better than you.”

He looks offended for a second. He snorts then, “Honestly, I barely remember his face. I might recognise him if I see him, but it’s been like eight, nine years. I’ll just text him our location.” He returns his attention to his phone, typing something before he turns it off and keeps it in his pocket. Immediately after, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from the same pocket, taking one out to smoke one.

You stare at Nikolai, taking in his appearance—black sweater beneath a half-black, half-white parka coat. He has put his hair in a single braid, a tiny pompom with a pink ribbon at the end of it. He seems to notice your bold stare. So he takes a drag of his cigarette, turns to you and blows the smoke directly at your face.

“Aah! The hell!”

“Don’t stare at me like I’m ugly.”

“That’s not my intention at all…!” You retort, flapping your hand at the front of your face. “I-I’m just admiring you. Because… well, I think you’re very unique for a man.”

Nikolai smirks, nodding. “Ooh~ tell me more, sweetheart.”

“Kolya, why did you decide to keep your hair long? It’s very, very rare to see a guy keeping long hair, unless they’re like… uh… fans of hard metal music. Yeah? Hm? Do you even know what metal is? It's like rock music but with people screeching.” You grin from ear to ear.

“Yes, I do know metal. The hell do you think I am?” He grumbles. “That was a good question. The simple answer is because I look prettier, that's why.”

“Mm-hm, but you’re already handsome, though. If you’re the pretty one and the handsome one out of both of us, then what’s left for me?” You pout adorably, receiving his astonished scoff.

“Flirty cheeky bird.” He chuckles, nudging your chin teasingly. You giggle at his light touch. “Well, obviously you’re gonna be the cute one. But wait. I’m also cute, so you can’t really hold that title. I guess we can share. You and I are both cute. You’re cuter if that makes you feel any better.”

“Hey, now you’re just hogging all the titles. You’re greedy.”

“I think I can be more greedy when it’s about you.”

You look at him, confused, seeing how his eyes travel down over your body for a few seconds. A tiny smirk crooks on his lips, making you fidget nervously.

What does he mean by that?

“U-Uhm, have you seen your friend now?” You quickly change the subject, attempting a genuine-looking smile that looks more awkward than it already is. He scoffs, noticing your attempt to get away.

“No. Not yet, at least.”

“Can we trust him? I mean, he’s probably a very shady person.”

“Don’t worry. Even if he doesn’t have good intentions, he won’t attempt things against me. He used to run some errands for Fyodor’s organisation, you see.” Nikolai says.

Fyodor. You almost forgot that the whole reason you are here is because of Nikolai’s pursuit towards that guy. Perhaps you have been subconsciously trying to drag his time from his death. You do not understand it—how important can one be that someone else will go through nooks and crannies to seek them? If it is the authorities, sure, you can understand the effort. But mere acquaintances? ‘Friends’? No, it is a strange concept for you. You do not think you will be missed, let alone sought, if you are gone.

Not even Dad gave a shit.

“Uhm… Fyodor has an organisation? Didn’t he like working alongside you? Like on the same level?” You ask curiously.

“Nah,” He pauses to smoke a little bit. “Before our terrorism agenda, he had his own puppets. I’m pretty sure I’m the most normal out of everyone else in our group.”

You tilt your head, confusion clouding in. “What do you mean by normal…?” How normal and sane can Nikolai be, compared to his peers before? Even now, the way he lives and navigates through life is already abnormal for you—which says a lot since you do not even have a childhood experience that would be considered ‘normal’ for an average person.

“Like… I was literally a boring human male in his 20s in a group of… well, for the lack of a better word, non-human entities.”

You gasp, looking around before you lean in to whisper—although you two have not been bothered by being secretive about terrorism talks in public. “So… is Fyodor not human? Is he like a monster?”

Nikolai shrugs. “Who knows.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not even sure how his ability works.”

“How come you’re ‘close’ friends with him then?”

He glares at you briefly but says nothing. You tilt your head, waiting for his response, but he is clearly avoiding it, so you decide to not push any further. You can barely fathom his mind anyway—you wonder how scary it would get if you were to dive into the entirety of his so-called sanity.

“Hey, friend!”

Nikolai’s head turns to his left, and you follow his eye. A dark red car is parked not far from you, and a man in a brown coat and a ushanka is waving at you two.

“Is that him?” You ask.

“Mmm, seems like it. Yeah, I know that face. I definitely know that stupid smile.” He says, before he gestures to you to get the luggage and follow him. You scramble, pulling the luggage through the rocky road and hastily following him to the car. The man’s grin is friendly and broad, and he looks visibly excited when he sees you.

“Oh, hey, who’s this, Gogol?” He asks the man beside you.

“My girlfriend.”

Your heart jumps, and your chest begins to contract—embarrassment and fluster crawling in your nerves. You frantically look at Nikolai, who is nonchalant as ever. “G-Girlfriend…! Girlfriend… I-I’m girlfriend…” You utter, mostly to yourself. The man looks surprised and laughs.

“Are you sure she’s not forced to be? She doesn’t look like she knows you. She looks lost, hahaha!” Nikolai only glares at his acquaintance, making the guy sneer, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Not available to look, eh?” He teases before he turns to you. “Hello, cutie. I’m Khlestakov, an inspector.”

“Inspector? What kind?” You ask.

“The government kind.” Khlestakov pats Nikolai’s back. “Okay, come on. Get in the car. I have people to audit after this. It won’t take long if we speed up to avoid all the jams.” He opens the trunk of his car and takes the luggage from you.

“Come.” Nikolai grabs your wrist, pulling you to get into the backseat. The car is nicer than you thought, but it does not compare to the one Nikolai had back at home. You sigh internally, already missing the place and the people. A twinkle of concern is still lingering in your mind regarding Vasily’s status. You really wished you could have had a little bit of time for a farewell. But now you can only pray that he is fine and well, and Cherevyk is taking care of him or something.

You only listen to the conversation between Nikolai and Khlestakov. However, it looks like Nikolai does not really engage much with the questions Khlestakov gave to him. Khlestakov is a conman, you think. From what he was telling Nikolai—who was not interested—apparently, he became an inspector by accident because some officials mistakenly thought he was a real inspector. Funny enough, he looks like he enjoys the thrill of tricking the officials because he has been keeping up the act for long.

“Damn, the traffic seems to be bad today,” Khlestakov says when the car slows down until it stops within the line of traffic. “Eh… you aren’t in a rush, are you, friend?” He asks.

“No, I’m good. Little missy over here wants to get home really quickly, though.” Nikolai playfully tugs your hair, and you return with a soft smack on his hand.

“Little missy, huh? What’s your name, missy? Have you been well?”

Before you can open your mouth, Nikolai grips your wrist tightly as a warning. You look at him, confused, and you could only flail your hand. “She’s fine wherever she is.”

“Are we sure?” Khlestakov looks at you through the reflection in the mirror. “You okay, missy?”

“I-I’m okay,” You say. “Kolya’s been very nice to me.” Nikolai nods proudly at himself. “But sometimes he can be too mean and very bad towards me, and I think he owes me something as a big apology, don't you think, Mr Inspector?”

“Woah…! This one is bold, huh?” Khlestakov laughs, not realising Nikolai’s annoyed pout towards you. You only beam innocently, receiving another tug on your hair.

“That won’t do, Gogol. You gotta treat the ladies nicely now. Say sorry to her.”

“I’ve done that before, actually.” Nikolai rolls his eyes, irritated that he is being lectured by a conman who barely has his life put together.

“Well, do it again!”

“Shut up.”

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling a cackle. Nikolai glances at you for a second before a soft smile flashes on his face.

— ✿

It takes about ten minutes to get out of the traffic jam. You are already asleep, bored out of your mind. Tap… tap… tap…—Your head was bumping against the window, and before you would wake up with a lump on your head, Nikolai gently pulled you to lie your head on his lap instead. So now you are comfortably napping on him.

“Where’d you find her?” Khlestakov suddenly asks, his voice is quieter, so you would not be jolted awake.

“Just a nightclub,” Nikolai murmurs, his knuckles brushing your hair.

“Just a club, really? You’re too sophisticated of a man to do that.” The driver says sceptically. “So, you’re flirting, had sex, and just decided to date? I don’t remember you being a guy like that. Usually, your pursuit will take a while, yeah?”

“Maybe you remembered wrong.”

“She’s very cute, I have to say.”

His eyes glare hard for a second at the mouthy driver. Nikolai is about to warn him, but he babbles more, “You gotta hold on to her tightly, my friend. Anyone can snatch her up if you look just the other way. Keep her safe and sound in your overcoat.”

“Oh, I will.” Nikolai snickers to himself, eyes on your serene sleeping face. “It’s not my first time doing that.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He says quickly before leaning back. “How much longer will this ride take? You couldn’t get any faster?” He asks, diverting the subject before Khlestakov makes more uncomfortable remarks. The latter checks his phone, which is currently running a navigation app.

“About seven minutes more. But friend, can we stop by a petrol station? My stomach has been aching since the jam, you see. Don’t want any weird smell to get stuck in my car now, yes?” His grin is silly enough that Nikolai only groans, huffing in his seat.

“Whatever. Just don’t take too long. She’s tired already.”

“Yes, sir!”

Khlestakov makes a stop, moving out of the planned route concocted by the navigation app. He drives for a couple of minutes until he stops by a petrol station and parks in the visitors’ parking. “I won’t take long!” He promises as he leaves the car with the engine still running.

Nikolai sighs when he is left alone in the car with you. He hovers a little over you and shakes your body lightly to wake you up. You stir, lips mumbling something that he could not understand. He shakes you again. “Wake up, baby. How long are you gonna take your princess nap, hmm?”

You mewl softly. “Don’t bother me, Kolya…” You adjust your head on his thigh, pushing his hand away.

“Did you just say ‘Don’t bother me’?” He clicks his tongue, fingertips trace lightly on your face. “Even when barely conscious, you still have a naughty mouth, huh?” He gently places his fingers on your jaw, enclosing slowly before his thumb rubs your chin.

Your eyes flutter slightly.

“Mm… go a-away…” You murmur sleepily.

Nikolai stares at your face, his eyes darkened. The thumb that is gently caressing your chin slowly trails up to your lower lip. You make a small, confused noise, tilting your head slightly to avoid his touch. But he tightens his grip on your face, and with an amused smirk, he slips his thumb between your lips.

You blink your eyes open, confused. Hand panicking, you grasp his arm.

Your tongue tries to push his finger out, but he only presses further, bullying your panic to its high.

“I like… to see… how far I can push myself to do things to someone I love,” He says, voice low and whispering. “I was so determined to kill Fedya. Because I really like him. If I want to prove that I’m not confined to just the essentials of love, I should be able to defy it, right? I mean, who would hurt someone they love? But isn’t that just a predetermined rule from our own skull? If I follow it all along, how can I prove myself to be free from such control? Isn’t that something to think about?”

Your breathing is heavy.

“If I like you… If I love you, do you think I can hurt you?” He asks calmly. “And if you love me, can you hurt me too?”

You try your best to shake your head. He scoffs before he laughs softly. “What’s that ‘no’ for?”

A loud, pitiful whimper leaves your mouth then, and he finally decides it is enough torment for you now. He pulls his finger out and chuckles. When you are free, you are about to get up from his lap, but he wraps his arm over your body, preventing you from moving, even if he does not hold you tight. But the weight of his arm on your torso is enough of a message for you to stay still.

He leans toward your ear, mismatched eyes eerily staring at you.

“Stay. I think I really like you.”

— ✿

“Alrighty, we’re here!”

You let out a long exhale of breath. You have been quiet ever since it departed from the petrol station, and you could not even sit up because Nikolai was holding you close to him since you woke up. Khlestakov and Nikolai were talking at times, and you only spoke a couple of words when Khlestakov asked you some random questions. But mostly, you are silent. It was not because of awkwardness; rather, it was because of Nikolai’s bizarre behaviour towards you.

Sticking a finger in your mouth, talking to you about scary mind stuff—oh God, you still do not know what to actually think about that. You wanted to get angry, but that feeling never came. You are more dazed, and that daze brews darker when you realise your stomach twists in a certain way as you recall the feeling of his finger in your mouth, of his hand seizing your jaw, and of his arm caging you.

It does not flutter in discomfort—an urge to push yourself away from him and run as far as you can until your legs tire. No, no, no. No, it flutters little flowers, delights that slither to your heart. It is like his handprint is all over your face, and you wish the sensation would linger lower. Lower, lower—maybe to your neck, wrapped, or maybe to your stomach, fondled.

But that would be too much to ask for.

You are not going to sit and pretend that you are all that innocent of what is entailing the burn in your heart right now. This is not something foreign when you have seen and heard people having mad fucking sex in the club before. Those ridiculous requests people ask of you are still funny memories to reminisce on.

You want to feel his hand on you again.

But you are not going to request that out loud—maybe you could try, but you are too embarrassed about it. It feels like you are desperate for a man’s attention—which, to be fair, you actually are to him. You are not even sure if he actually has that kind of desire with you, or if he is just bullshitting around like he often does.

You get out of the car, following Nikolai. You watch him bid a half-hearted farewell to Khlestakov, and the ‘inspector’ waves his hand at both of you. You return one with a smile.

“Alright, don’t bye-bye him for too long now. Come on, you said you’re tired.” He says, before he holds your wrist with one hand and pulls the luggage with the other. The building in front of you is a six-storey flat, painted whitish beige. Its design is fairly modern compared to the brutal concrete of Nikolai’s last apartment. There is a grassy lawn at the front of the building with a non-functioning fountain in the middle.

“Look, so many birdies,” Nikolai exclaims, pausing his steps when he sees a flock of pigeons lounging around the fountain. You look at him, a little surprised to see the genuine glimmer in his eyes. “I need to buy breadcrumbs to feed them every morning.” He nods to himself, already making a plan for his new routine.

“But Kolya, look.” You point at the ‘No Feeding Birds’ sign perched on the lawn. “It’s not allowed to do that. You’re gonna encourage the birds to poop everywhere.”

“Ugh. It’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” He says, before suddenly, the sign disappears into the ground, completely gone from public sight. “There, hehe. Problem removed.” You turn to him, seeing that he is holding open the coat he is wearing.

“Kolya, you can’t just use your powers like that…!”

“I can do whatever I want.” He says before he releases his grip on your wrist. He seems light-hearted now, compared to the odd behaviour in Khlestakov’s car. “Great! Now we have a morning routine. Remind me to buy some nuts for the birdies. Can’t let your family starve, right?”

You blink at him, baffled, but nod regardless, supporting whatever eccentricity he has in mind. He leads you further into the building area. The garden is filled with some children riding bicycles, and there is an ice-cream stall nearby too. Some teenagers are gathering by the fountain, probably on their way to play football.

When you enter the building, there is a staircase on the right side of the hallway. There are rows and columns of mailboxes on the wall on your left. You follow Nikolai, walking past the staircase to reach a single elevator that is just right behind it. The elevator is unused as the door opens immediately when he presses the ‘up’ button. Getting inside, he then presses the ‘4’ button.

“Don’t we have to meet the homeowner? Or are we going to see them later?” You ask.

“He’s not in Peters at the moment, but he’ll come visit once he comes back. Probably in the next two weeks.” Nikolai replies. The elevator pings, and the door slides open. He steps out, turning to the right. “He leaves the key under the doormat, so we’re fine. If there’s no key, well, we’ll break in through the windows.”

“I’m not athletic enough to climb in, Kolya.”

“Are you at least flexible though?”

“Mmm… I dunno. Why?”

Well, I can help with that, hehe—Nikolai replies in his head. He stifles a chuckle but immediately puts up a poker face. You tilt your head confusedly but shrug it off. Maybe Kolya just thinks too fast!—you assume in your head.

Nikolai takes the key under the doormat and unlocks the door grille before the main actual door. He pushes it open, nudging you to go inside first. So you step in, gasping in awe as your eyes scan the whole interior—so much better than his last apartment.

The walls are in ivory shade. The wooden furniture looks new and modern. There is a leather sofa in the living room, placed in front of a coffee table and a television that is on a brown cabinet. You walk further inside, finding the kitchen—empty yet also complete with essential appliances. A room near the kitchen is the laundry room, you think, as there is a washing machine and a dryer with a steel clothing rack. You turn the other way to find the bedrooms. The first one you see is empty and quite small. There is only a desk and a chair that looks vintage, but upon further inspection, it is surely not something that came out three decades ago. Despite the functioning lights and ceiling fan, it does not seem like the room will be utilised. You turn around again to the bathroom across the way. There is a bathtub, and beside it is a shower room. The shower room’s door is clear glass—you wonder how much privacy it can offer. The sink is quite big too, with enough room for a vanity.

Satisfied with the bathroom, you leave it and get to the last room in the house. As you expected, it is the master bedroom, and Nikolai surely has planned it all for his comfort because the room is complete. A king-sized bed with expensive-looking sheets and a duvet. What is also cuter is that the sheets are champagne beige-coloured with a repeating cherry pattern.

You plop down onto the bed, squealing happily. It’s sooo comfy!—You giggle to yourself, already imagining how good a sleep you will get tonight.

“Ahem, ahem. I don’t recall allowing anyone to get on the bed.”

You sit up straight and look over your shoulder, seeing that Nikolai is looking at you with a smirk on his face. He points a thumb to the outside of the bedroom. “You take the sofa.”

“What?!” You yelp. “Kolya, that’s not fair! See, the bedsheets have cherries. That’s basically for me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“But still, it makes even no sense to let me sleep on the sofa… a leather one too! We can just sleep together.”

His gaze darkens again as a tiny smirk arises on his lips. “Are you sure you want that?”

That twist in your stomach tingles again. You quickly look away, clutching your shirt. “Uhm… I’ll think about it…?”

He snorts, chuckling at your reaction. “Alright, little dove.” He nods. “All your stuff is in the living room. You can put them in this closet right here.” He walks to the wardrobe beside the bed, sliding the door open.

You figure he must have taken out all the extra personal items from his ‘secret space’ while you were exploring earlier. “Okay. Do you want me to keep your belongings too?” You offer kindly. After all, he has gone through so many troubles for you.

“Mmm, nah, I’ll take care of it myself. I gotta go to the bathroom.” He says, making a stretch while he leaves the bedroom. You proceed to the living room, finding a mountain of your other clothes on the sofa. You do not think most of those clothes are washed, so you weigh your choices whether to do laundry first before keeping them or not.

But the time outside is slowly going dark, and you are not sure if you want to be diligent at this hour. At this time, you should get dinner, wash yourself and go to sleep. Planning to deal with your clothes tomorrow morning, you decide to just keep them in the laundry basket from the laundry room.

You catch a glimpse of Nikolai’s half-naked body leaving the bathroom and going into the bedroom before the door closes. You stare at the closed door before giving up and turn your attention to the television instead. Much to your surprise, even the television is full of a variety of channels. You end up choosing a reality TV show, which you find entertaining yet cringe-worthy at the same time. It is clear that the show is heavily scripted; even the jokes and the laughter are unnatural. But there is a charm in their fakery.

“Hey, do you want dinner? I’m just gonna order some pizza because I’m fucking lazy right now.” Nikolai’s voice echoes through the hallway as he approaches you and sits next to you on the sofa.

“That’s fine with me,” You say. “Do we have plates and cups and—”

“Yup, yup, yup and yup. This unit is fully furnished with essentials. But we do have to buy some more stuff to fill that kitchen. We need the important ingredients and food—salt, sugar, sauces, spices, milk, cereal, vodkas. We need vodkas.” You glare at him but comment nothing. “You good with cooking?” Nikolai asks, not noticing your judging eyes, as he is still focused on ordering pizza.

“I can. It’s just that you very, very rarely buy groceries, so I couldn’t even cook. But look, the kitchen seems nice.” You say, eyeing the kitchen—the dining table is rectangular with stools instead of usual chairs, arranged in the middle of the space. “Maybe I can cook you some food from my hometown.”

Nikolai only smiles. “You’d really make a good girlfriend.”

— ✿

Nikolai is sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone. He has been reading the messages Viktor sent to him since yesterday, but he has no intention of answering any of them. He sighs before tossing the phone to the side of his pillow. He has not seen you for a while now, after you two finished dinner.

The silence and your absence are kind of killing him. He wants to keep you within his sight, but he is aware that you seem apprehensive for the past moment. As if you are scared of him—or something that comes from him. But what is love without the acceptance of one’s flaws?

Nikolai sighs—this whole thing is truly unplanned. From the moment he decided to pick you back up from your old home, to then bring you to the other side of the big country. He never plans this night to be another day of breathing, another chance to see the moon. He is at the heart of Russia now, where his old friend was last seen.

He has a mission, damn it. He wants to kill Fyodor and truly be free. But now he is having a second— third, fourth thought about it. What he planned is to find Fyodor and shoot him in the head, point-blank.

Nikolai could have just done it today. He has every chance to continue on with his plan, every moment to just leave you and go on with his life. But he hesitates, and that hesitation grows to countless thoughts—what if Ivan found you? What if Fyodor sought you? What if you’re kidnapped by someone else? What if you found someone else?

He does not plan to be in love. So why does everything he does up to this point seem to be a symptom of it?

He groans. This is what happens when he decides to follow his emotional heart. He wants to get rid of this blossoming feeling within him—free from it, liberate all of his soul. Yet, hesitations wave over, clouding his judgment again and again.

It disappoints him to just put aside his ideals like this, especially for another person he never wanted to consider a friend—you. You are etching yourself into his mind and heart, just like Fyodor did—and Nikolai does not like it. If that is the case, then you must suffer the same consequences as Fyodor will reap.

You must die, so he can prove himself to be free from this ‘brainwashing’.

But he halts then. You? Die? Gone, just disappear without a name for yourself? His chest aches at the mere thought of your absolute absence—a familiar sensation that he once felt so deeply when he hugged the mutilated arm of Fyodor’s ‘corpse’.

As he is drowning in his thoughts, he hears a tiny sound of the door being opened. He looks over his shoulder, only to see you peeking from the outside through the small gap. You seem surprised that he noticed you, and you are about to step away before he calls out your name.

“Y-Yes?” You ask, voice unsure.

“Can you come here, little dove?” Nikolai says. He sees you fidgeting in your spot, wagering your choice. He sees a glimpse of blue from the gap, hoping that you are not wearing your baby blue dress tonight. He just does not want to deal with lust that will add to the chaos in his head.

But his hope shatters immediately when you slowly open the door and step towards him. Baby blue. You have no cardigan on, not even your socks.

He stretches out his fingers before gripping the bedsheets as he watches you approaching him.

So cute…

So cute, I wanna eat you.

He licks his lips, extending his hand to gently grab your hand to lead you to stand right between his legs. The way his fingers wrap around your wrist is perfect. The way you fit right in his proximity is too perfect.

“W-What’s wrong, Kolya?” You ask.

“Nothing wrong. I just miss you.” Nikolai places both of his hands on each side of your hips. You flinch slightly at his words, and fluster creeps up to your face. You awkwardly hug yourself, both hands rub your arms that are covered with goosebumps.

“O-Oh… I thought I did something wrong.” You give him a tiny, relieved smile.

“Maybe you did.” His gaze travels down your body before one of his hands slides down to your thigh, pulling you to stagger onto his lap. Your hands frantically hold down the skirt of your dress as it rides up your thighs.

“Cute.” He smirks before he leans in, kissing and licking your collarbone. You shriek in surprise, clutching your heart as if it is going to jump out and be devoured. “What have you been doing behind my back, sweetheart?” He asks casually.

“Huh?”

Why is he acting like nothing just happened?

Your brain probably short-circuits at this point, baffled at his nonchalance. You part your lips, nervousness seeping out as shaky breath.

“I-I… I just… Uh, loading my clothes into the washer.”

“You’ve been hiding from me in the laundry room?”

“I’m not hiding…! I just… I was just doing a task.”

Nikolai squints his eyes, nodding. “Mm. So, you’ve been washing clothes for two hours?”

“W-Well, I usually take good care of my clothes, so I took longer than you for sure.” You quickly retort with a bunch of nonsense, only receiving his little chuckle. He rests his head against your chest, sighing softly. Mustering up a little confidence, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Kolya, do you have plans tomorrow?”

He tilts his head, face buried in your upper chest, thinking. Yes, he does have plans. A well-thought-out plan he had in mind since he was thrown into prison. He is going to spend his morning pinpointing Fyodor’s location, spend his afternoon with the last meal of his life, spend his evening chasing after the guy, and spend his night murdering or getting murdered.

Viktor was totally correct. He came here to die. No one is foolish enough to pick a fight with Dostoyevsky, someone who has infamously ignited a global-scale supernatural terrorism. Even the Port Mafia, which controlled the night of Yokohama, suffered great losses from Fyodor’s whims.

“Nikolai?”

“No,” He pauses. “I don’t have plans for tomorrow.”

“O-Oh..!” You smile. Cute. You make him smile too, albeit a little sinister. “T-Then, what if we go out together tomorrow? Shopping? Or you can bring me to visit fun places?”

“I’ll think about it, love.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good enough for me.” You say, fingers playing with his hair. “I just wanna spend some more time with you.”

“Are we sure you’re not just trying to delay my meeting with Fedya?”

Your little flinch at his guess does not leave his attention. Nikolai knows you are still holding on to those words Viktor said to you—“Hey, girl. Don’t let him die in a ditch, yeah? He tends to do that sometimes.”

“I-I just want you to be happy and… you know… not die.”

“Mm, is that so? You’re just gonna ask me about my plans every day then?” You nod.

Nikolai curls a knowing smile against your skin before he lifts his face, placing a soft kiss on your chest. You freeze as his kisses pepper their way up to your neck. A gasp leaves your lips when he kisses a spot on your neck, making you squirm on his lap.

“You’re so cute…” He nibbles your skin, and you mewl, hugging him tighter. His nimble finger hooks the strap of your dress. He glances at your face, smirking at the way your fluster is overwhelmingly present in your expression. Your eyes are frantically darting from him to his hand. Your chest is heaving heavily—your attempt to even out your breathing is just amusing to watch. “You’re so cute, it makes me want to eat you alive.”

“Nikolai… what are you doing to me?”

“Well,” He smirks, brushing his knuckles over your chest, circling lightly over one of your peaks. You shiver, fingers itching to push his naughty hand away, but you do not. “I do have a plan for tonight though.”

Nikolai gives a long lick on your neck to your jaw before he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a deep kiss. Your gasp is cut short as his tongue takes the instant chance to slip inside your mouth, tasting you. Eyes shut, your body arches close, fingers raking his hair and nape.

He lets out a small groan between the kiss—your lips are just soft, contrasting the mess and desperation he brings in the way his lips move against yours. Tongues and teeth, you whine as you pull away, gasping for air to calm your heart. But Nikolai is rough—he catches your lips again as his hand slips beneath your dress, crawling, etching. The warmth of his palm covers your waist as it travels up to your breast, shamelessly groping and fondling you until heat courses down your loins.

Your head is spinning. Your hips are rowing above his lap, seeking friction, seeking a touch.

As if he reads your mind, Nikolai suddenly pulls you to the bed, slamming you down on the mattress. He hovers over you then, and before you can process it, his lips cover your neck again, nibbling harder on your skin, forming roses. You moan breathily, closing your eyes to the little pleasure. Your fingers seek him, grabbing his arms tight.

In the midst of your haze, you feel your legs are pried open. Your eyes flutter open, seeing him between them. Your breath hitches as he places kisses and soft bites along your inner thigh. He pushes your dress up, tracing your tummy with his fingers before they stroll down, teasing the damp spot of your pussy. You whine loudly, embarrassment clouding inside your mind as you quickly try to close your legs, only for him to put more pressure of his fingers against your clit.

“Oh, God…!”

“Oh God it’s finally happening, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips at the sight in front of him. His face is blushing hard—just like this morning. Nikolai runs his fingers over your slit, and your hips squirm. Your body tenses as he hooks your panties, tugging them tight in between your slit.

“A-Aah…! Mmngh… p-please…” You let out a shaky whimper, glancing down at the man. His gaze is gleaming in excitement—naughty—before he leans down, and with a shameless moan, he licks your pussy over the panties. “G-God…!” You whine again, shuddering at the wetness accumulating on your core, legs shaking.

He pulls down your panties, then tosses them to the side. Nikolai pauses, chuckling at the bare view of your cunt—wet, as if she is begging for it already. His heart beats fast, rushing his blood to his dick—Fuck, you’re too perfect. His thumb reaches out to your slit, nudging in between as it slides to rub your aching clit. Your whine echoes louder as you slam your hands on your mouth and close your thighs, only to trap his hand between them.

“Don’t be shy now,” He whispers, voice low and sultry, thundering to your heart. “I thought you wanted to give me a gift, sweetheart.”

He leans down, smooching your forehead as his finger puts more pressure on your clit, rubbing it in tiny circles. Your thighs quiver around his arm, hips rolling upward shyly. Your body jerks lightly at the little shocks of delight surging within your nerves.

“I-It’s too much…”

“This is too much? Awh, poor baby…” He coos mockingly, hastening the way the pad of his finger twirls over your bundle of nerves. With another hand, he shoves one of your legs to the side, pressing it down to keep yourself open for him. You whine, toes curled.

He slides down, landing soft kisses over your tummy before his hands hold your hips, and he buries his mouth against your cunt. “Aah~!" accompanying his sloppy sounds between your legs. His warm tongue lapping over your slit, nudging his face deeper to suffocate himself. Nikolai grips your thighs tightly, fondling your flesh that he has been dying to touch. His nails bury deep into your skin.

The tinge of pain sends a sparkling sensation all over you. Hurt, hurt, and delights as you thrust your hips against his face, feeling the nuzzle of his nose in your sensitive clit. Your vision is starry, glitters filling in your mind as your hands are gripping the sheets, the fabric of your dress, your chest, before one of them pulls on Nikolai’s hair.

“Ooh… fuck…” He groans, his mismatched eyes glaring up at you. He pulls you close, lapping his tongue over your quivering hole. He tilts his head, sucking on your clit. A loud, high-pitched whine leaves your mouth as you try to move your hips—away or towards, you do not know. You feel his grip on your thighs loosen, allowing you to close your legs, trapping his head in between.

Your body shakes, eyes tearing up as he sucks harder. The sloppy and wet noises are mixing with your moans and his groans. You shudder, legs trembling as your cunt gushes around his teasing tongue. “Haaa….” You whimper as your breathing slows down. Your hand caresses his hair as your hips roll subtly against his face again. Nikolai lifts his face, a perverted smile on him.

“Are you proud of me?” He asks, giving kitten licks on your folds. You just nod—not even hearing his question. “Greedy girl,” He chuckles, his tongue catching the string of saliva and arousal. You want to say something to him, but all that you can emit is just whining and broken attempts to say his name. You feel a nudge against your pussy—a familiar one. Throwing your arms over your face, you mewl softly as Nikolai slowly slides a finger inside.

“Aannh…! F-Fuck…!” Your hips jerk up, and his mouth chases your cunt again, staying right where he wants. Nikolai gently pushes in, slick covering his finger, tongue dancing on your clit. He pushes another digit in, rowing both of them between your walls. Long, thick ones thrusting in and out of you, stirring every spot that ignites your mounting lust.

Your moan is loud, and you can only clench your own dress as he lifts himself from between your legs. Your legs are tense as he hastens his fingers deep inside you, making wave motions. His thumb presses on your clit, rolling the poor bud.

“G-God…! Aah~! Aah..! Mmh—!” You swear you can only see stars. Your body shakes, back arches, eyes teary. A low cackle makes you blink profusely, trying to look at him—only for your heart to beat faster than it already is when you see what he has been doing.

One hand is pleasuring you. Another is stroking himself—Nikolai does not even bother to pull his pants down fully. His fingers wrapped nicely around his dick, stroking back and forth, coating his thick girth with his precum.

Impatient bastard.

But Nikolai does not care anymore. His face is flushed, sweat dripping on his forehead, neck and chest. Perhaps it is your arousal that makes it hard for you to think logically, but all that is lodged in your head now is how much you want to taste every inch of his sweaty skin.

The single thought of him driving his cock inside you flips your stomach upside down. Your pussy clenches—excited, needy—around his fingers. His gaze glimmers then.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl behaviour.”

Clenches. Tighter.

Heat travels all over your body while his fingers are teasing with your insides, before your desperate hand claws on his shoulder. You whimper as your pussy gushes again, adding to the wetness beneath you. Nikolai bites his lips, thrusting a couple times inside your sensitive cunt—you jolt, as if an electric shock hits you—before he pulls out and sucks both of his fingers, as his eyes are sharp on you.

Embarrassment suddenly breaks into you, and you just pull your dress over your face. You wince, your pussy clenches around nothing, still hungry for more of him.

You hear shuffling noise, and you take a peek, only to see that Nikolai is undressing himself. You have seen his bare body many times before, but the way he is glistening with sweat makes your fingertips itch to touch him. Your eyes travel all over him before you nervously glance down.

Oh my God…

You gulp, perhaps salivating.

Oh goodness…

“Like what you see?”

Your eyes shoot up to him, seeing his perverted grin as he crawls over to you. His hand brushes against your wet cunt, teasing your quivering hole with his fingers again. You whine softly, parting your legs as he places himself between them again. His eyes leer down as his thumb circles your sensitive clit lazily, igniting your spark once more.

“I love what I’m seeing too.”

He smooches your skin, trailing his little loves up to your lips. He wraps his hand around your neck, rubbing your rushing pulse. You whimper, your own hands holding his arm.

“Kolya…”

“Mm?”

“T-Too much…” You sniffle before you let out a broken gasp as Nikolai hooks his arm under your leg and grinds his hips against yours. He groans softly, enjoying the feeling of his bare girth against your pussy.

He is hard. Very much.

“Too much?” He smirks, kissing your cheek as he grinds more—his dick slipping between your folds, prodding your clit. You are breathing heavily, nodding fast at his little question. Nikolai chuckles, tightening the grip around your neck. Your eyes roll back slightly, before he brings his face close, messily licking your face.

“But you’re gonna be good for me, hm?” You nod—say yes to everything he does. He lets out an amused cackle before his hand disengages from your neck, and he taps your cheek a couple of times. “Good. Be good and keep up with me, pretty girl.”

In the fog of your mind, you feel his bulbous tip prodding your entrance. You moan softly, before your noise becomes louder and whinier as he pushes himself inside. His own groans match yours as he whimpers slightly at the way your cunt is nuzzling him. Nikolai lifts himself, grasping your thighs as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck— Ooh~ fuck me,” He breathes. “A-Aah… You feel— haa… f-fuck— so good, baby.”

Nikolai can just feel his blood rushing down, and his body is getting hot as he salivates over the sensation and the sight blessed upon him. His hips shake before he hovers over you, placing a hand beside your head before he starts thrusting, driving his cock deeper inside your warm heat.

He has been craving to be this close with you for so long, to be this intimate—close enough for his nails to rake the skin above your ribs, yearning to crawl inside you. His brain is already filled with aching lust—all the memories of his effort to not yield to his human desires towards you have dissipated away.

Your moan is a melody to his ears, spiking up his new obsession to hear more, to see more of that ecstasy in your face. He pulls out—not fully—before he slams his hips against yours, making you whine, body arches against him. The blue fabric that is still on you is already a mess—straps slipped off, neckline tugged down, and the skirt bundled up, revealing your soft tummy.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him down. Your legs wrap around his waist, caging him. Nikolai hisses, “S-Shit, baby…” he groans, his thrusts paused. He can feel your desperate attempt to row your hips to feel his dick toying with your insides. He raises his upper half, choking your neck again before he picks up his moves again.

His thrusts are hasty, a little more sloppy. You whimper, clenching your pussy hard around his girth. Rationale is long gone as he chases his climax, ramming himself in your already gushing cunt. He does not even bother to be vocal other than moaning out your name and repetitions of “God, you’re so perfect.”

“Oh~ fuck—” His thrusts are staggering now as he tries to pull out, but your legs around him are tense, refusing to let him go.

“Kolya…” You hold his shoulders, weakly pulling him close. But you lift yourself partially, trying to kiss his mouth, only for your lips to land on his neck instead. And you start to kiss his skin, receiving tiny grunts before he thrusts hard into you and stays—spilling his cum inside you.

“Fuck— O-Oh~ fucking hell…”

Nikolai’s whole body is shuddering as he feels the sloppy mess around his girth. His trembling hands hold your legs and pry them away from your body. You fall back to bed, chest heaving as he pulls out slowly.

He eyes down your cunt, squeezing out mess, soiling the cherry sheets. He rubs your trembling thighs before he leans to kiss your stomach. Sated—but his hunger for you only lies dormant. He kisses up to nibble your skin as his fingertips trace where your ribs would be. He presses down lightly, tendering the pads of his fingers as if he is creeping inside your body.

“You’re such…” He plants a soft kiss on the centre of your torso. “…a good girl for me, love.”

“Mmm…”

“I want to…” He murmurs, tongue teasing your skin. “…consume you.” Nikolai sighs, a little crazed smile on his face. “And when you bleed, it is only by me and for me.”

He pauses suddenly, realising how creepy he sounds, and you might pull away from him again—not after when both you and he have crossed the line of no return. Nikolai quickly looks back up at you, wanting to plead and retract his mania—

—only for him to find your eyes are shut, your chest is no longer breathing heavily.

Asleep. Naive.

©cherikolya 2026 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

Hastily smoothing down your white apron, you peer over the counter - it wasn’t very common for a customer to arrive on a motorbike (let alone what sounded like a small army of them taking over the humble parking space outside). You could count on one hand the number of them that didn’t arrive in a beaten-down car or a truck that coughed down the road.

As most people in your little town did.

Which meant only two things: this certainly wasn’t one of your regulars, this was someone from outside town.

And so you’re squinting through the glare of the diner windows, catching just the briefest flash of pretty pink before-

“Hello? Hellooo—?” An annoying, graaaating voice forcefully weasels its way into your consciousness and drags your attention away from the window. “Should I beg to get some service ‘round here or should I come over there and fuckin’ service myself?”

Now this noise you knew almost too well, unfortunately.

“Why hello, Naoya Zenin.” You didn’t even have to look into his frowning face to know who it was - or the fact that he was frowning.

And yet, diner policy dictated that you be on your most polite behaviour towards any and every customer that walked through those swinging doors - no matter how rude they were, no matter how many times you’ve had to kick them out in the past.

You supposed it helped that his father was the town mayor that ‘suggested’ those policies, too.

And so with a stifled sigh, you’re picking up your notepad and pen to not stare at Naoya’s bad bleach job, if anything. Maybe then he won’t try to ask you out for the fifth time this week. “What can we do for you at Sweetheart’s Diner today?”

He sniffs, “No tip.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Anyways- my egg’s too runny and my toast tastes burnt.” Roughly, Naoya shoves his tray of breakfast over the counter at you. The mostly-eaten scraps of food shuffling around sadly as he does so. And perhaps you could try to empathize with the man…if he hadn’t eaten all the food he was complaining about in the first place.

You narrow your eyes at him, “You ordered…a sunny side up?”

“Yeah, and it was too fuckin’ runny!” He bites back, leaning over the counter to leer at you. You take a subtle step back. “Not only that- my orange pulp juice was too pulpy and there were too many damn blueberries in my pancake. You call this a fine dining experience or what?”

You take another step back. “I apologize-”

“The least you could do is fuckin’ apologize.” The mayor’s son roars, catching the attention of the other diners. He scoffs, banging a fist down on your thoroughly-polished countertops. “I’ve never had a dining experience so shitty in my entire life-”

In the corner of your vision, you see Yaga starting to stand up- and quickly signal at him to sit back. You didn’t want this to escalate any further. 

You put your palms face-up in front of you and placate, “Sir, if you could please just calm down-”

“Calm down? And now you want me to calm down?” He seethes, stabbing an accusing finger your way. “You and this establishment should be thankful I don’t call my father, the mayor, and get you shut down this very instant-”

“How can I correct our mistake?” You’re whispering, you could handle rude customers but it’s the rude customers with power that you could never get used to. Especially him. Especially not when this diner had been your dream for so long. And it’s with every ounce of your will that you manage to keep your voice even - you will not let Naoya Zenin hear you hurt. “Would you perhaps like a refund? Or perhaps an alternative? Or-”

“How about…” A sleazy smirk spreads across his lips, and you already dread what will be next to leave them. “-a kiss—”

But before you can open your mouth to answer, Naoya’s grinning face is being slung away as if catapulted by some invisible force. 

Feet struggling to find purchase. Arms flailing. Ears flushing. Mouth sputtering out profanities as he tries and fails to catch his footing. Ultimately toppling backwards until he’s thrown directly over an elderly couple’s breakfast.

You can only watch slack-jawed as Naoya - now with a particularly runny yolk dripping down the side of his face, matching his hair (you had to remember to comp that sweet couple) - scrambles to stand up. His mouth quivers with rage once he rights himself, and you’re grimacing as you wonder just what it might unleash next on your poor diner now- until…until he catches sight of the ‘invisible force’ that had thrown him.

And you do, too.

First your gaze is tilting up, up, up—

Fuck, he was just so tall. And you could tell that it wasn’t with some breezy strength that Naoya had been thrown. Towering. Back so broad that you couldn’t look past it from here. It almost seems to go on for an age before you finally lock eyes with the hulking man that’d saved you. Crimson irises. Smoking gaze.

One that narrows in interest as they meet your line of vision, one of his pink brows raising- and ah, you’re realizing that it’d been none other than his hair that you’d noticed before. Those cotton-candy pink locks seemed to slick back effortlessly, presumably by his helmet. It was so at odds with the ruggedly handsome rest of him.

Classically handsome features. Smirking lips. Studded ears. Tattoos.

Despite his jet-black biker jacket, you could see the way they crept all over his muscular body. There were inky lines slashed underneath his eyes, his chin, the back of his neck, and down those broad shoulders that stretched his outer jacket tight. Encircling his strong wrists before ultimately slithering down to heavens-knows-where.

You gulp as your mind wanders.

And the dangerous-looking man before you snickers like he knew exactly what you were thinking about, “So are you the ‘sweetheart’ that makes this ‘Sweetheart’s Diner’?”

“I uh…” You’re left momentarily speechless, forgetting any and every default conversation that’d been drilled into you after years of waiting. It takes this customer tilting his head to the side and gazing down at you in a half-lidded way that makes you shiver for you to actually collect your wits- “I mean- welcome to Sweetheart’s Diner, what can we do for you today?”

The words are out of your mouth before you realize that you hadn’t even acknowledged his previous question—could it have been made any more obvious that you were staring?

“Heh…” His lips tilt up in a way that makes him look devastatingly handsome- you have to dart your eyes away for your own sake. “Cute.”

Fuck.

“The name’s Sukuna, sweetheart.” His name drips from his lips like sex, a slight purr in his baritone.  “Ryomen Sukuna. But you can call me whatever’s easiest…”

There seems to be a hidden end to that sentence that you can’t quite discern. But somehow you manage to sputter out your own name-

“I know.” As Sukuna ploughs on with confidence, you can only look up at him in shock. What did he mean he knows…?

At your palpable confusion, one of his hard pink brows raise. And Sukuna raises one of his hands to tap a roughened finger over the side of his chest and—oh. It’s only then that you’re looking down at your uniform and realizing that your name tag was gleaming front and center, polished just this morning.

Your heart races- fuck. “A-ah, of course!” Your voice threatens to crack. And the only thing you can do is follow your script with the hope that perhaps you’ll wake up from this nightmare (or daydream?) soon. “And may I ask whether that will be seated or to-go?”

“Trynna get rid of me so soon, huh, sweetheart?” Sukuna chuckles, before glancing over his shoulder at the barrage of men - ones that you hadn’t even noticed entering your diner. Honestly, what was with them not setting your bells off? 

They were all rough n’ tough bikers seemingly just like the one before you: matching leather jackets, hard eyes, looming figures that seemed to fill the space entirely. And despite their intimidating looks, you think that the strangest thing about them was the fact that they were all lined up perfectly obediently behind Sukuna. Hands behind their backs and almost waiting for command. “Let’s say ah- a booth to seat fourteen, and menus for each.”

“Oh- oh yes, of course!” You startle, before grabbing some menus and hastily rounding the counter to squeeze past the bikers. “I know the perfect booth. Follow me this way, please!”

And never in your entire life did you think you’d have an entire troupe of bikers following you through your humble diner like a line of lost ducklings (quite intimidating ducklings). You pass slightly apologetic smiles at the other customers for the commotion that’d occurred, delicately giving a wide berth to the yolk-covered Naoya-

He seethes, “Don’t you fuckin’ think that this is-”

“Whoops.” It takes a mere moment for Sukuna’s strong shoulder to bump against the mayor’s son and send him sprawling onto the tiled ground. And you could almost believe that it had been an innocent accident - almost - until the biker slightly lowers himself and mutters to the man.

Eyes blown wide. Tone dangerous.

“I’d spit on you but I don’t want to dirty her diner.”

Naoya cowers but still turns his sour face up at him, “Y-you don’t know who my father is-”

“Your father?” Sukuna moves as if he was about to step over the man like he was nothing but something nasty on the pavement outside—before actually swinging his foot down and kicking the other man. Hard. “You don’t know who I am.”

And with that, the pink-haired man walks right up to where you’d stalled - staring at you expectantly as if to ask what the hold-up was.

“Right…l-let’s keep moving then.” You swallow. 

As you keep walking, you could see the rest of his gang continue to follow in the same route - each one giving a good kick at the source of your troubles all these years. Naoya Zenin’s running out of the diner by the time you’re seating the group.

You look after his disappearing figure through the window - never have you managed to get him to leave so soon…

“Something the matter, sweetheart?”

Jumping slightly, you meet the crimson eyes of Ryomen Sukuna. The rest of the table was nose-deep in your menu now, flipping excitedly through laminated pages of items that you’d put together yourself. Though—he only had eyes for you.

He repeats, head cocked. “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

You’re shaking your head, “Not at all!” And you wonder just how a man that’d been so ruthless earlier had so much patience with you. You place a hand thoughtfully at your lips, “It’s just- that man has been giving me so much trouble over the years. It’s just amazing how you managed to get rid of him so quickly.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens, and you wonder whether you’ve said something wrong. “Oh yeah? Little fucker’s been at it for a while now, huh?”

“O-oh, but it really hasn’t been anything too bad!” You hurry to explain, “But still- really- I’m so thankful to y’all for the help.”

“S’nothing, honey.” He throws an arm over the back of his chair—a new nickname? “M’just wondering why you didn’t go into that diner kitchen of yours and bring out the knives earlier.”

Surprising yourself with a giggle - you don’t see the way that Sukuna’s grin grows at the sound. “Oh I wish- it doesn’t help that his father’s the mayor of this town and could take away those knives just as soon as I pull ‘em out.”

His brow raises, “So ol’ daddy’s the mayor, huh?”

You’re nodding, but Sukuna seems to be deep in thought himself. Leaning back against the cushion, he starts finally taking off his jacket and fuck.

You might just be fucked.

You’re doing your very best not to gawk at the thick, chiselled arms that make an appearance then (and you fail). Sun-kissed skin. Muscles for daaaaays. He was wearing a sleeveless denim jacket and a thin white t-shirt underneath that did nothing to hide the rest of his tattoos. 

There were two colored-in circles on each of his prominent deltoids, and then a band around his biceps. From where the neckline of Sukuna’s t-shirt dipped when he threw his jacket over his chair, you see the inky glimpses of even more decorating his pectorals-

“Are there any motels ‘round these parts, sweetheart?” Sukuna hums as he laces his ringed fingers on top of the table.

You have to rip your eyes away from how looooong and thick they were, “There’s one just a little ways downtown- but lately it’s been closed for renovation, mister-”

“Sukuna.”

“Sukuna.” You repeat on autopilot, before registering just how sweet his name tasted in your mouth - it started with the curl of your tastebuds, and ended with a little flick. Almost teasing. 

The edge of his lip quirks upwards, “And you’re saying that there’s no place for a guy like me to stay here?”

“Well…no motels unless you don’t mind skipping to the next town over. Folks don’t come around here often, see?” You’re fiddling with a fistful of your apron, wondering whether or not you should really say the words already in your mouth…fuck it. He did save you from the headache that was Naoya Zenin. “But I do have a spare bedroom upstairs if you would like.”

Sukuna stares at you in silence.

And you suddenly feel the embarrassment hit you at once- “O-only if you would like, however! I’m afraid I have only one room for you and I’m sure the motel in the next town would be much more comfortable but-”

“I’ll take it.” Sukuna reclines with an almost-feline smirk, before digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a wad of hundreds that make your jaw drop. The sheer thickness of it…you didn’t even want to imagine how much the total amount was.

Attempting to push it back into his hands, “Please, you really don’t have to pay- let alone this much! Especially not after you’ve helped me-”

“Then consider it a tip.” He gruffly forces the money into your hands. “I expect my banana split to come with four scoops of ice cream.”

You almost want to laugh. Helpless to do anything but drop it into the pocket of your apron and pull out your notepad, “And what will the rest of the table be having?”

.

.

.

Your legs ache stepping up the stairs. 

Miwa, the part-timer, had just clocked in for her shift - which left you free to finally freshen yourself up before heading back into the rush. Lunch hour was one of your busiest, it always had the diner packed with the workers around town who’d gotten off in time for your well-served specials.

You’d grown a great clientele for yourself, and you’d never complain about the hard work—though you did have a thing or two to say about your poor ankles…

But you had to get back soon, you knew that the blue-haired girl easily got overwhelmed by the sheer amount of orders yelled at her. You wouldn’t want another mix-up!

And so you hasten to stride up the rest of the short distance to your apartment upstairs - one of the reasons you loved this place was because of the close quarters. Your home was just on the covert second floor of the diner, allowing you to flit in and out as seamlessly as you pleased. It wasn’t anything too grand or fancy, though it did have a bedroom, a bathroom, and all other things that your humble heart may desire. It really was the perfect place.

Home sweet home…you think, your hand reaching for the door knob. 

And just before your fingertips could touch the burnished wood, just before you could actually move to open the door—it swings open from the inside.

And you’re bumping into a firm chest

Firmer arms falling to your waist to steady you.

You look up- filling the entirety of your door frame was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Pink hair decorated with a few droplets of water that shined like diamonds. Ruggedly handsome face still glowing with the remnants of a shower. Dressed in nothing but a fluffy white towel that dangled precariously around his toned hips.

It exposed the entirety of his toned chest, riiipped with his prominent pecs, his abs, his obliques. How was he so damn sculpted? His tannish skin ripples in unison as he leans from his towering height to look down at you. And you couldn’t even meet his eyes because you were too busy reeling in the fact that you were right…there were black tattoos snaking down his chest as well. 

Like two inky tendrils down the middle that pointed to his sculptured v-line. To the tufts of pink leading in an unruly line down, down, down…

You’re realizing that the towel he was wearing was one from your own closet (of course it was) and it barely reached past his knees. Below that, you could see his strong legs flex, still drip-drip-dripping with a few dewdrops of water that fall onto your welcome mat.

You’re seeing more of Ryomen Sukuna than you ever thought you’d see. 

And right after you’ve seen him you don’t think you can ever rip your eyes away-

“You’re wet.” It blurts out from your mouth faster than you can stop it, and your gaze strays on the single glittering droplet of water that dips from the curve of Sukuna’s deltoid and down to his tattooed bicep.

And he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t make a single noise.

Looking deep into your eyes, he slowly - slooooowly - lifts his arm up and licks away the dewdrop on his bicep. Right where that tattooed band was, you watch the tip of his tongue lap it away like the sweetest sap.

A thrill zaps down your spine.

“Like what you see?” An amused baritone rumbles from within Sukuna’s chest, sending vibrations humming through your body. He cocks his head to the side and shoots you a sleazy grin, tuggin’ your body to his water-cooled chest. “Ya should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You could feel every one of his muscles shift underneath you, and your veins start to bubble. “You’re corny! I just came here to freshen up but—” You sniff at his skin. “You used my body wash!”

He raises a bicep up to his nostrils, and you try not to ogle the way his muscles flex. “Candies…heh.” Sukuna bores right into your eyes, “Don’tcha know that I love everything sweet?”

“I can tell.” 

The biker leans even closer, his tattoos seeming to expand and flare. “And by that, I mean eeeeverything sweet.”

“I can tell.” You grumble, unsure why he was repeating it but you can’t keep the smile off of your face. You wouldn’t have taken the hulking man to have a sweet tooth, but you guessed you couldn’t judge books by their cover. “That thing was expensive.”

He titters, “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do about it then?”

“It’s alright, I don’t really mind.” You shake your head sweetly, still in his arms and growing dangerously used to it. “You know you’re free to use anything in the house, right? What’s mine is yours.”

And an agonized expression crosses his face as if you’ve entirely missed some point—“Yeah, but what’re you going to do about it?”

Your brows furrow, “What do you m-”

Footsteps. A call of your name.

It takes you a singular split-second to catch sight of Miwa’s figure running up the stairs, and then two more split-seconds to break apart from Sukuna as if his body burned- you push his (highly attractive) chest away from you, you let his hands untangle from your waist.

They fall limply to his sides, and you’re missing the feeling of their heat on your skin already.

Though you moved on pure instinct, as fast as your body allowed you to, Miwa still catches a glimpse of you before her interruption and freezes. And pales. And lets her jaw drop, eyes widen—“S-sorry!” With a voice that was nothing more than a whimper, she’s sprinting down the stairs faster than you’ve ever seen her move, even during rush hours.

“N-no, wait-” The two of you are startling into action - or, well, you are. 

Sukuna merely raises a pink brow and scoffs, as if your part-timer had just disturbed something extremely important. And the last thing you’re seeing is the crimson roll of his eyes as you follow Miwa down the stairs, with nothing but an apologetic smile thrown over your shoulder at the man staying in your apartment.

By the time you’re politely smiling and nodding at the customers downstairs, you find Miwa cowering behind the counter - as expected.

You rap on the marble and kindly hum, “Anyone in here?”

“I didn’t see anything- I didn’t!” She exclaims from her position on the checkered floor, looking up at you with an agonized face. She pleads, “I swear I didn’t see you sneaking off during hours to do the naughty with a half-naked man, who also happens to be the leader of a biker gang, and who also happens to be fucking hot—eep!” Clapping both hands over her mouth.

“First of all, I didn’t sneak off to do the naughty.” You gasp out, looking around to make sure that none of your customers were overhearing this nonsense. “He just…happens to be staying over-”

“To do the naughty.” Miwa solemnly says.

“Because I owe him a favor.” You’re firmly finishing off your own sentence, and she didn’t look like she believed you a single bit. “And the motel downtown is closed for now- so it’s merely a transactional relationship, you see.”

She points out, “But he was embracing you in nothing but a towel…”

“I know—” You sigh, before you quickly realize that you weren’t helping your case. Shaking your head to rid your mind of any thought of Ryomen Sukuna and his…nakedness. “Either way- what was that you said about him being the…leader of some biker gang?”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” She looks up at you with wide eyes, immediately shooting to her feet. If there was anything that excited Miwa more than lunch hour (and not in a good way), it was a fresh bit of gossip (and that was in a good way).

She leans over the counter, hand cupped to her mouth in a conspiratorial way. “Ryomen Sukuna. King of Curses. He’s been the leader of the Curses biker gang since, like, forever.” Shivers run up your spine. “They say no one knows whether to respect him or to fear him, even those in his own gang. They say he’s the only reason they’ve grown to be so widespread, travelling so many distances and waging chaos wherever they go. They say that if he feels like it…they won’t even find the pieces of your body.”

You look towards the staircase, almost as if expecting Sukuna to be standing there listening. “He’s really…that Ryomen Sukuna?”

She nods, “You don’t want to get on his bad side.”

And you’ve heard about him.

Who hasn’t?

The Curses were the most infamous biker gang in the nation, with their unabashed ways and their almost more unabashed Harleys. They weren’t too much trouble through their days-long cruises…for the most part, but there were whispers…other whispers…

Ones that spoke of what the Curses did to those they didn’t take kindly to.

And yet, you couldn’t help but think of just how kindly they’d taken to you. Sukuna most of all - but even the closest of his troupe that had arrived for breakfast today (only a fraction of his gang, you’re learning) were well-mannered and tipped well. With the sweetest smiles and goodbyes as they left their leader here to drive off to the motel in the other town. “But you know- just today Sukuna scared off that nasty Naoya Zenin from the diner for me?”

“Ryomen Sukuna?”

“Ryomen Sukuna!”

Miwa hums thoughtfully, “Well, it makes sense. They say that if there’s anything biker gangs hate- then it’s people who can’t keep their paws and mouths to themselves.” 

“I see.” You ponder thoughtfully, looking over as a fresh new batch of customers enter. You grab a few menus, “Do you think it’s possible he’s not too bad then?”

She shivers.

“You know, anyone in town with half a brain would tell you to stay away from them? Most of all Ryomen Sukuna?”

You look over at her curiously, “I know.” 

“But I won’t- go for it, girl.”

.

.

.

The rush of customers always died down around nine.

It was the slight dip before the wave of night shift workers were released, along with the college students pulling all-nighters in the local universities. It was only now that you could take it easy.

The kitchen hummed quietly behind you, only a few customers inside as you wiped down the counter. The parlor might have been a bit lonely, but your diner’s sign stood loud and neon outside: Sweetheart’s Diner. Hot-pink with a heart at the end. It coated each chair along the bar in a dusky glow, making those cherry gumdrops look pleasantly radioactive.

It was a fuzzy silence.

Not even a peep upstairs - you could almost forget that it wasn’t just you, your part-timers, and your customers in this building. Sukuna was there, too. 

He’d gone out only a few times on his bike since taking residence in the spare room in your apartment, and had come back just this evening with a heavy bag of something and a tall order of waffles (to which you’d happily obliged, of course). And now…now you weren’t quite sure what he was—

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Sukuna’s gruff tone carries across the diner and makes your customers look over- hell, it makes Miwa pop her head out of the kitchen and shoot you a meaningful look.

You’re shaking your head subtly at her and turning to the tall man that easily steps down the stairs, two at a time. You smile, “How can I help you, Suku—oh.”

Before you know it, he’s thrown a helmet into your hands.

Shiny coating. Red like your diner seats. Decorated with accents of gold that caught the artificial lighting from above and bent it into odd shapes.

You’re blinking down in awe at the heavy weight in your hands, “This is…”

“A helmet that’s what.” He says, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. He stands before you with his beefy arms crossed, and you notice that he’s changed into a slim black t-shirt and black denim. “Bought it brand-new. Accidentally threw out the receipt but don’t be afraid to tell me if it’s ass, I’ll go beat up the clerk right now.”

“You bought this…for me?” So that was what was in his bag earlier today - did he go out just to buy this for you? But why…

“Isn’t that obvious, honey?”

You’re distinctly aware of Miwa who was listening in on this conversation like a hawk. “And because you want me to…”

“Ride me- I mean with me, of course.” He coughs, looking slightly off to the side. Not giving you the time to say anything more before turning on his heel and opening the diner door as if he was about to leave. “So?” He cocks his head at you, “You coming?”

“B-but the diner-”

“She’s coming!” Miwa’s shrill voice sounds beside your ear, before her voice drops down to a whisper. “I can take care of the diner right now- so don’t worry about a thing and just go.” She gives you a gentle nudge, “Go!”

Well…you supposed that this time was more or less manageable for just Miwa.

And it’s in a slightly dazed state that you’re walking towards Sukuna, who was still stalking at your doorway. He raises a pink brow as you finally halt before him and look up—only to grab onto both sides of your apron and puuuuull you against his firm chest. 

You yelp as you’re pushed against his developed pectorals, thinking for just a second that he was embracing you- before you feel a slight looseness around your waist and realize that his nimble fingers had actually gotten to work untying your apron.

“There.” Sukuna hums out cockily, looking back to admire his work. You were in nothing but your short, cutesy dress and your name tag. “Can’t have that thing flying away when you’re riding me- I mean, the bike, right?”

“We’re going to…” You still can’t quite believe it.

Not even as you’re led into the chilly air outside and Sukuna’s producing two jackets from his bike’s top-box. One was much smaller than the other, and before putting on his own- he’s roughly manhandling you to him and gently putting the brand-new jacket over your shoulders, threading your hands through the sleeves. And you don’t know whether you should be flattered or insulted! “I know how to wear a jacket myself, Kuna!”

“I know.” He snickers anyway.

The next was the helmet that Sukuna takes the time easing it down your head and fastening it properly. You can’t help but feel that it’s so…intimate.

In no time, he’s worn his own jacket and slung a leg to mount the bike. Looking over his shoulder, “So? You coming, sweetheart?”

You scramble to throw your own legs over the bike and situate yourself—on the plush cushion, feeling it hum, you just didn’t expect it to be such a massive contraption-

“Harley-Davidson Forty-Eight.” Sukuna proudly announces, slightly muffled by his helmet. “Rides like a dream, purrs like a…” He looks over at you, “-pussy.”

You squirm where you sit behind him.

Sukuna’s ensuring the bike was in neutral before turning the ignition on. He fiddles about with the engine kill switch and handlebars for a few seconds, then pressing on the starter button. Once it slowly releases, he gently revs the engine and it roars—

You yelp at the sudden vibrations flitting through the engine and into your core. 

“Hold on tight.” He slides down his helmet visor and revs it a little more. And you genuinely don’t think you’ve seen a sight more attractive. “And by that I mean tight. We’re going for a ride ‘round town, sweetheart.”

You hasten to loop your arms around his waist, interlocking your fingers tightly as the bike starts to ride. It starts to zoom off under a star-lit sky.

“Mmm, good girl.”

You’ve never been wetter.

.

.

.

“Rev it up- reeeeev it up now, honey.” Ryomen Sukuna’s gruff grumbles speak into your ear from behind, a volume just above the thundering engine of his bike. Both so raspy. Both so greedy. Both sending pure carnal electricity through your half-naked puffy.

Your panties just tugged to the side. Utterly soakin’ over where the bike’s engine was.

By the time you’d gotten back from your little ride with Sukuna it was after midnight. He’d taken you to every hidden corner and secret spot in your town, before riding to the next town over and then finally parking it against a wall of your diner’s empty parking lot. Where things had…escalated.

Where he’d stared you down as he put his rings on one by one. Where he’d been teasing you like this for aaaages now. 

“Please—” You’re attempting to situate yourself more comfortably where you sat, reaching behind to tug on the hem of your dress with a mewl. “P-please Kuna, someone’s gonna see-”

“See me teachin’ you how to- heh, ride a bike?” Questioning innocently, though his right hand was clasped over yours on the handlebar and revving the engine even louder to send vibrations up your pussy. The other pushing up your dress and gliding his fingers between the sweet sopping crevice of your cunt, “Or see me drivin’ this pretty pussy absolutely wiiiiiiild-”

“Both-” You gasp, feeling the tips of his middle and ring finger smearing aside your wet panties to enter. Both of his digits were just so girthy, such an incredible circumference that was only made bigger by the chunky metal rings you could feel grazing frigidly across your outer pussy. “Both- fuck, they’re gonna hear us, too-”

“Then just be quiet, hm?” 

Before you know it, Sukuna’s stuffin’ just his rounded fingertips inside—and you’re forced to clap your free hand over your mouth just so you don’t scream.

Just so you’re not cumming already on the sensation of his fingers pushing gluttonously inside- just using the edge of his thumb to pry aside your swollen folds, just swirlin’ around your hole with a wet slurp! 

Sukuna’s pink brows furrow, a line of sweat trickling between them as he watches your cunt gulp up just the first tips of his fingers. Juuuuust the first tips that wriggle and bash all ‘round your walls before he feels the slight resistance- “Fuck.” He whispers parchedly against the back of your neck, “Fuck, now watch yerself—yer really gonna have to try hard to be quiet right now, honey.”

“What are you-” You’re just barely managing to bawl out, before Sukuna pries his fingers back out with slimy strings of your slick lacquering them. Connecting him to you still.

You’re missing the stretch of him at your entrance for a mere few seconds- before Sukuna’s craning his head down and spitting—splatter! Straight onto the lips of your pussy.

And you should know that Ryomen Sukuna has perfect aim. 

You should know that he could shoot an arrow through an apple seed a considerable distance away.

But for now, he’s letting all his gluey wads smear so messily against the inner part of your thighs to leave a wet splotch on his seats. Letting you slip n’ slide back and forth as he revs the engine even harder. “Oh p-please—”

“Shush, girl- tch, so messy. Leave a stain and this pussy’s the one who’s gonna pay for it.” He grumbles, “What? D’you need me to teach ya how to be quiet?”

“But you’re the one that’s making me- fuck!” Immediately clicking your mouth shut at the feeling of the engine’s vibrations shooting through you - they itch a primal part of you that you didn’t even know you had before. 

Your head throws back with a moan and he tuts, “Quiet, sugar. Quiet—fuck, rule number one: focus on me. And only me.”

“You’re th-the only thing that I can focus on- ngh.” You hiccup stubbornly. Instead, all you can do is blink your teary eyes back down at the way that Sukuna had claimed your cunt and was bangin’ his fingertips in and in and iiiiiin against your entrance. They were just so vicious. They were just so greedy to go insiiiiide and swab into your cutest orifices. “Kuna, are you even sure they can fit?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” He hums, and you can almost hear the roll of his eyes in his words. “You just turn the engine up reeeeeal loud…”

“O-oh—” Shrilling out maddeningly as he hitches up the engine until it was roaring. Until the brr-brr-brrrrr— of it vibrated against your treacly cunt.

His nostrils flare with a huff of laughter as he watches you squirm, “And then you just tease this lil’ hole out like this- see how she tries to suck me in?” Scissoring your entrance wide open with his roverin’ tips, you could feel the pattern of his fingerprint against your soft insides. Shivering at the way he manages to sink in with a sluuuuurp- “And then while she’s suckin’ me in, lemme teach you about rule number two: just turn the engine up a little louder-”

“Fuuuuuck—” Bucking wildly back and forth against him at the sudden rev. This might just be the toughest rule thus far, and it’s only the second…

But no matter how much you move - no matter how much you squirm - Sukuna’s pinning his left hand against your front and crushing you against his washboard abs. You could feel each defined ridge glissading against your back as he leans in and feeds your cunt just a bit more of his thick fingers, “And then like this-” Hitting near the back of your pussy with a thump! He was lifting his heavy rings up to the tops of his fingers, making those hard edges push back and forth against your gooey walls. “-just a few more times before I-”

“Sh-shit, that’s unfair.” You’re babbling out, eyes nearly bulging out of your skull as his rugged tips swipe near the bottom of your pussy. 

Hooking at your elastic hole. Curving in just right. 

Your loose limbs start shaking the moment that Sukuna’s fingers are so long and laaaarge- “Kuna, I think m’gonna—” Large enough that his ringed joints end up pushing against your sweetest place - that lil’ g-spot of yours. And Sukuna gives a hard thrust accompanied by a few more revs of his engine, before you can feel yourself falling apart. “-gonna-”

“Rule number three-” He spits- “I control when you cum.”

It’s the only thing you’re hearing as you’re taken over by your high. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes. The tension curling your toes.

You’re rutting like an animal in his arms- as he holds you mercilessly down to his body and fingers you speechless. “Cum f’me-” He gasps out, those frigid fingers of his probin’ open every hidden spot of yours. Battering your poor walls. Squeezing a third finger inside your tight channel- “Cum f’me cum f’me cum—”

“Oh- fuck!” Hitting your g-spot until you felt all raw with pleasure. He’s fucking you through your high at an incredible pace, making the bike buckle with how fast he was going. 

Again and again and again.

Each glide of his thickened fingertips activates the nerves inside you, setting your entire body on edge with his motions. He somehow pinpoints the exact peaks of your high and hammers in with vigor at each one, elongating them until it felt like your mind was melting into nothing but mush with the sensation of your orgasms.

Pushing into every slick-filled orifice and he still isn’t stopping as he hears you start to sob out with wettened gasps, “And know that if yer making a mess then I’m gonna hafta be the one cleaning it up.” 

“Well, you’re the one that made me make this mess in the first place.” You huff out.

“Fiesty.” Before he’s digging his pearly white canines into the side of your neck, making you yelp at the sudden indents being forced into your clammy skin. Your mouth opens with a sudden scream- before Sukuna’s instantly shoving it right back into your throat.

Along with his slithering, slick-glazed fingers.

Your eyes snap open, shocked at the sudden intrusion between your lips. It’s managing to shut your simpering sounds up, and Sukuna chuckles as he scissors his digits up and down on your tongue—veering for the veeeery back of your throat. The most lecherous slurps and gulps escape between your shaky legs with every fuck through your electric high. “Quiet, honey, yer leaking too fuckin’ much.” He gapes down in awe at the sight below of his knobbly fingertips spreadin’ apart your puffy folds. “I wanna taste it.”

And by now, your high is just barely starting to peter out into nothing but powerful twinges of pleasure that shake you from your very insides. “What do you mean you wanna taste it, Kuna…?”

“Remember when I told you I like everything sweet?”

Gasping, “Yes?”

And Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t answer that particular question. 

Not before he’s keeping the engine of his bike on a rumbling vrrrrrr—! that jostles you on top - that leaves your pussylips twitching and crying out in even more sensitive slick. He unlatches himself from your sweaty body and swings a leg over to get off of the bike, “Sit with both legs facing me.” He crouches down beside the bike, knees hitting the ground, hands pushing aside the sheeny inner parts of your thighs.

You flinch at the feeling of his roughened palms, his even rougher hot breath against your pussy. “What are you gonna do, Kuna?”

“Mmm…” And Sukuna’s only pulling up the hem of your dress and shoving his head nose-deep between your cunt. Letting his lavish tastebuds come out to slurp up your pussy’s slit. 

Just one lick.

Just one single lick.

Before you realize that Ryomen Sukuna might just have a tongue piercing—

He sticks it out properly, “M’having dessert.”

“F-fuuuuck—!” Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head as Sukuna’s flexible tongue immediately darts out and squeezes between your swollen folds. Kissing aside your panties. Plunging his tongue in like he’s gone mad. 

He isn’t wasting any time. He’s squeezing his lengthy tongue in as far as it could go before fucking n’ fucking you wildly with it.

“Mmmm, rule number four: m’gonna overstimulate you until you can’t scream- heh.”

In and out, in and out, in and out.

Hot, slick drills of his muscle. The ridged textures of his tastebuds drag along your tender walls, and smack! the front of your cunt. Making you twitch with pleasure any time he’s hitting a spot you like. And you can feel the orbed piercing at the end of his tongue slash into spots you didn’t even know you had. Thrashing. “Now, rule number one. Feel this- hngh?” You feel it head straight inside your walls and bang-bang-bang! from side to side.

“I can I can—!” You’re whining out, before the volume registers in your hazy brain and you slap a hand over your mouth- was the rule working or not? You were too gone to think.

“Mmm, good girl.” He peers up at you with a chuckle, “Though I wouldn’t mind if anyone actually heard…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” The pink-haired man croons out, his rosy locks grazing the front of your core. And you could feel the exact moment that his frigid piercing slugs in and presses right on top of your throbbing g-spot, “And can you feel this?”

“I c-can—”  Blubbering through your tears. “Fuck, it just feels too good, Kuna.”

“And what about….this.” The next thing you’re feeling isn’t a result of his mouth, it’s his hand that’s veering upwards and pressing a thumb down above where your womb would be situated. 

Incredibly sending shivers down your spine, “Y-you haven’t reached there, Kuna!”

“Mmm, not with my tongue…not yet.” He’s grumbling out into your pussy. Before blurting, “Then what about- hah- this?”

Staying on that specific spot of your bundle of nerves and press-press-pressing doooooooooown. So hard that you buck with a slew of profanities. “Too good- too good too good-” Sukuna might have had his rings earlier, but now his tongue piercing was just as sloppy. 

“You’re welcome~” The sheer audacity. And you’re being given a proper sight of him with his tongue stuck out, the metallic circle of his piercing drippin’ all wet with slick and sap. “S’nothing much. S’just’how I eat the sweetest fuckin’ thing on the menu.”

“Sweetest fucking…” You breathe.

He smugly hums as he slithers in his tongue back between your folds and starts thrusting once more, faster now, harder now. Now purposefully moving over so that the tip of his nose was rubbin’ over your pulsating nub.

“The sloppiest dessert.” Almost humping his face against your pussy, “The sweetest. But fuck, you’re so messy. I’ve gotta clean up after this pussy now. Fuckin’ ruined my seats, y’know that?” Massaging your clit. Massaging the crevices of your walls. “I’ve gotta drink up every sweet drop yer givin’ me. I’ve gotta fuck her so that any time you’re walking you can still feel my mouth between your legs. I’ve gotta fuck you with my mouth while this pretty pussy’s bein’ so wet on my tongue now-”

“Oh- please—” Your dilated pupils are swirling around maddeningly within the whites of your eyes, and Sukuna only increases his pace. As fast as it would go. As rough as it would go. Jerking, just too sensitive by now as you try to focus on the first rule. “Please please-”

“Ah ah- hold still unless you wanna fall.”

And any time you’re trying to run back from his gaped maw- you find that you don’t have anywhere else to go. The seat of his bike was just so thick, and yet you couldn’t move anywhere further - the biker had one hand on your ass cheek as he eats you out on his bike. Pulling you back against his mouth every time you lurched away. Tuggin’ you right onto his tongue. “B-bikes shouldn’t- oh, fuck.”

As much of a pinkish blur that shovels between your tender pussylips - he’s somehow managing to mold every twist n’ turn of his tongue against the sides of your walls. Every knob of his tastebuds. And by this point you weren’t sure whether Sukuna was more lethal with his fingers or with his tongue—so thick and long lashing aside your velvety channel. “Mmm, what’s that? Can’t hear you over this pussy.”

“B-bikes shouldn’t be used this way.” You’re whining with each wrigglin’ movement inside of you - so sensitive after your first high. And the constant rhythm of his engine only makes your body tremor even further. “You’re just plain filthy, Kuna.”

“And you’re too fucking loud—”

As if to stop you from being so loud, his nearest hand reaches over and revs the bike up even louder. And you gasp through your tears at the sudden vibrations, jolting- “Fuck, if you do that-”

“N’ what’s gonna stop me from doing that? Rule number two, remember?” He’s proving his point by repeating the motion with his hands and letting the engine tremor all throughout your puffy core. Sensitive. Still overstimulated with your high, “Huh? What’s gonna stop me?”

“I-it just feels too goooood—!”

“Shush, honey.”

The engine thunders once more and you think you’re losing your mind. His lips were practically glued against your pussy’s and spreading you open with his tongue. His tongue was flicking inwards and using his piercing as a little spotlight to poke n’ prod at your sweetest spots. His face was shoving even deeper between your legs and pressing such hot open-mouthed kisses against your hole, “Shhh shhh sh shhh…someone’s gonna hear.” Grumbling as he drills the length of his muscle in until you feel dizzy, “What’s that you were sayin’ about my precious bike? Whatever- shut up and take it, sweetheart.” Drowning out your shrill noises with his revving engine, his slurping kisses. “Shut up and take it shut up and—”

“Fuck, Kuna m’gonna cum again!” You cry out in overstimulation.

He leans in with narrowed crimson eyes, “Oh? Then don’t shut up. Then fucking cum.” He’s pushing on the handlebar to rev it as hard as it would go, keeping it at a constant high whilst he trickles his tongue into any spot that he could reach. Whilst he swabs his nose down your puffy clit. Whilst he’s pushing and pushing you into your second high of the night-

“So close-” You gasp, the pit of your stomach churning with pleasure as he continues. You grab onto the pinkish locks of his sweaty scalp, “Just a little longer m’gonna fucking, mmm, cum-”

“And for the second time on my bike.” Sukuna titters out, his velvety tongue slickly moving against your g-spot. You could feel the metallic feeling of his piercing at a frenzy now - and so were you. “What’re you waiting for, girl? Ruin my bike again.” He rolls his eyes, “Make a mess all over the seat. Fucking leave the mark of your sweet, sweet pussy-”

“Fuck-” With your nails almost painfully digging into his scalp, you’re hunching your body over as your veins start to tremor. “M’c-cumming—”

“Mmm, delicious.” The last thing you’re seeing before your white-hot high is the edges of Sukuna’s lips curling up into a smile, your juices splashing down either side of his mouth.

And then your head throws back with a broken whine, tears falling down your cheeks.

As your soppy dreneched legs fall open, he’s bullying himself even closer and fucking you right through your high. Letting the mushy tip of his tastebuds burrow into your sweetest spots, your g-spot feels pounded raw with his vulgar strokes, “Should put this p-pretty pussy on the dessert menu.” He gurgles out, lavishing your snug channel with his kisses. With his mouth. “Oh- but I’d wanna be the only one gettin’ this dessert.”

“Shit, you’re talking crazy.” 

“M’talking pussydrunk, know the difference.” He looks up at you with a narrowed gaze, pupils dilated until those red irises looked almost black entirely. “And don’t think m’fucking done with you.”

You’re pushed straight through wave upon wave of your bliss.

Again and again.

It seems to be stronger than even last time, zapping through your body even faster. Sobs escaping you. Back arching. Your entire body finches primally any time he’s caressing your sweet clit.

You’re holding onto Sukuna for dear life as he zig-zags his tongue all over, finally draggin’ his sloppy tongue away once you were shivering so hard it was as if you were a leaf in the wind. “Overstimulated till yer dumb, yet?” He asks, “No? Then we’ve got a long way to go…”

“O-oh, I don’t think…” Your mouth waters, bleary eyes blinking back your vision once your high finally peters out. Once you’re watching Sukuna wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and get up, “-I don’t think m’gonna make it out of this alive, Kuna.”

“Damn right.” He snickers, towering over you once more. 

You catch the stains of dirty and friction on the knees of his trousers, and you’re reaching out to return the favor when- 

“Ah ah- s’alright, honey.” Grabbing your hand in midair to stop you, “Wouldn’t want you to get on this ground and get dirty. How about we do something more fun?”

“Like what?” Your eyes widen cutely.

“Well-” Sukuna cocks his hips and starts counting on with his ringed fingers, “-I’ve fucked you with these fingers, I’ve fucked you with this mouth- what else is left then?” Three fingers raised.

Eyes dropping down to the thickened erection throbbing in his pants, “Your cock…”

“Atta girl—”

Those three fingers are stuffed between your pussylips once more and given a thorough few pumps, making sure that you were all soft n’ wet for him still (and why wouldn’t you be? Sukuna’s merely teasing you by now). Before he sweeps a look around the empty surroundings and starts unbuckling his belt with metallic clinks.

“I’ve been so fuckin’ ready to fuck you- fuck, ever since I fucking walked into this diner-” Lugging his heavy pants down, boxers right along with it. “-I knew the sweetest thing in there would be you—and that pussy.”

Your eyes drop down immediately to the massive length of his cock.

Standing upright between his legs.

His large bulbous red tip. His drippin’ lacquer of slick. His veins that throbbed and ached the closer he got to the heat of your cunt.

And not only was he loooooooooong- but he was so thick that it made your thighs squeeze to imagine what he’d feel like inside of you. His girthy tip. His flared base, decorated with a few tufts of pink. If you thought that taking his fingers was an incredible feat, then you surely weren’t ready for this…

Ryomen Sukuna was rock-fucking-hard. All because of you. 

So hard that it almost looked painful for him to be anywhere but inside your cunt- and the man himself hisses as a droplet of precum oozes out of his tip. Dribblin’. 

Reaching down to smear it with his thumb, he then plops! that wettened digits straight into your mouth. Using the leverage to tug your chin down and make you look up at him through your lashes, “Now- yer gonna sit on my cock and ride me crazy, understood? And yer gonna be quiet about it so we don’t get caught, understood?”

You don’t know whether you’re nodding so readily because he’s using his strength to make you nod- or because you simply wanted him just as badly. “Mhm—” You moan around his thick finger.

“Heh…” He watches you with pussydrunk, loving eyes. “Well ya can fuckin’ try.”

And before you know it, you’re moving aside - leaving such a large puddle of slick where you were seated - to let Sukuna mount the bike facing you. To let him beckon you over and straddle his hips—him straddling the bike, you straddling his toned waist.

You’re shivering as you feel his wettened tip scrape-scrape-scrape between your pussylips, in disbelief that you were just about to fuck the leader of a biker gang in the parking lot of your diner.

“And make sure ya get it in until here.” Sukuna’s looking down between you two, and you follow his line of sight. To where he was holding onto his swollen cock and showing off the ringed tattoo around his base, just a line of black marking the end of his length. They matched the ones on his wrists and biceps. “Riiight here, the ring marks the spot, sweetheart.”

Shuddering in a deep breath, you clasp onto his muscular shoulders and start lowering yourself down. Feeling just the curved edge of his cock kiss your orifice, back arching at the primal stretch that shoots up your cunt already. “F-fuck—” You’re hollowing out before closing your mouth and looking around you, “You’re just so big, Kuna- I d-don’t know if I can-”

“Of course, you can.”

And the next thing you’re feeling is his big hand glued to the side of your hips, tuggin’ you down like a ragdoll without even trying. He’s hauling you down. He’s eeeeeasing your cunt onto his cock.

Flared tip snagging against your elastic hole. Makin’ the most lecherous wet slurps emanate as he fits in.

And he’s got such a firm grip on you that you can’t even run if you wanted to, you can’t even squirm, you can’t even lurch away. He’s embedding the crescents of his nails against the flesh of your ass cheeks, and letting his biceps bulge with strength as he holds you still—“New rule. Rule number five: you’re gonna take it aaaaaall, honey.”

“Wh-what does that even have to do with me being quiet?” You’re sobbing out, feeling his globular cockhead maze it way in. Thick enough that he was wringing out all your soft crevices.

“Hmmm…” And Sukuna himself didn’t seem to be quite sure - or maybe he was too pussydrunk to actually remember. Simply giving into his most animal instincts when fucking and fucking up into your hot cavern with his honed tip, red-hot with need. “Maybe if m’stuffing you all the way up till here-”

His free hand draws an invisible line down the middle of your neck.

Ending right where your throat bobbed, “-then you won’t be able to speak anyway. Maybe you won’t be able to- ngh, feel anything but my cock inside- h-heh…”

“Oh—” And it’s with your head thrown back that you’re slipping n’ stumbling down his pulsing cock.

Every ba-dump! of his ruddied cockhead you could feel all the way at your lungs, and you truly wonder whether he was right about the rule he’d set earlier…“Ahhh, I can see that cute lil’- ngh, drunk look coming over you.” Sukuna breaks through your hazy reverie  with his words, “Not overstimulated till you’re speechless yet, are ya? Speak f’me. Speak—”

To make your mouth gape with some pretty noise, he’s ignoring the resistance ‘round your entrance and whacking his bulbous tip into you meanly. Making your jaw drop with a loud, “K-Kunaaaa—!”

And something in his predatory gaze flickers, “Hey…that’s not too bad.”

“Wh-what the fuck do you mean-” It’s a sheer miracle that you manage to grit out the words, hell- it’s a sheer miracle tha you can even form a coherent thought in the first place. What with Sukuna’s animalistic thrusts trying to fit inside of you, “-Kuna, we’re gonna get caught if you keep up with this-”

“Then you better remember all the rules, huh, sweetheart?” He asks you innocently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was simply reminding his forgetful girl.

And without a moment’s warning, Sukuna has one hand clawed to your hips- Sukuna has his inhuman strength pulling you down to sit against his hilt with a wettened plop! Finally bottoming you out through his own needy efforts.

“Oh look…” Sukuna rasps, grinning down at you both. “She’s right there where my tattoo is.”

He has your cunt circlin’ the ink at his rugged base, and your legs squirming around his waist.

You can feel his tip painting the end of your pussy with precum, and his veins massaging each battered spot on your walls. Just so shattered by this point that you swear you’re tasting his caramel-salted flavor on your very tastebuds.

No matter how hard your restless body tries to accommodate him, he only seems to push against your velvety walls and grow even bigger—“Recite them.”

You blink your teary eyes open, “Wh-what?”

And before he answers, the biker pumps out a thorough few thrusts. Hitting the very back of your spongy womb and letting his tip sink in, “I saaaaaaid—” As he drawls out his words, he drawls out his cock in the most sloppy drag. Making your body shiver at the zig-zagging patterns of veins that seem to be molded perfectly to the map of sweet spots inside you, “Recite. Them.”

The strike he leaves on your womb is enough to make you see stars.

“O-ohhhh-” Your breath hitches, salty tears clogging up your throat. “Oh my god- fuck, oh my god, Kuna-”

And his way of shutting you up is gripping you by the throat and spitting straight into your mouth, squeezing at your poor unhinged chin until the only thing you can do is fucking swallow.

He looks positively dangerous from this angle, “That’s not the first rule.”

And your punishment? Yes, you do get a punishment - you didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna became the leader of one of the most infamous biker gangs in the land by being nice, did you?

The hand at your throat comes down to spank! your sopping pussylips, rings and all. “F-fuuuuck-” Just as the words are leaving your lips, you’re hastening to retract them. “I-I mean, that wasn’t the first rule- fuck, that wasn’t the first tule, that was just-”

“Shit, s’like you want us to be caught. Quiet the fuck down-” Though he was only funneling you with his sinful inches even harder. He looks between your two connected bodies and plants a great slap on your folds once more, “-and that goes for you, too.”

“Th-the first rule is to focus on you, and only you.” You’re saying, still slightly dizzy with the impact of his slamming fingertips. 

Your cunt was still all tender- and Sukuna’s pink brows raise in surprise at the way your folds quiver once he snakes his hand closer once more. Merely to roll over your clit as some reward for getting it right, “Mhmmm—cute. Now what about the second?”

And for that, you have to think a little bit.

Which was so fucking hard to do when he was drilling into you like an animal - as if he’d run out of breath every second he wasn’t shoved to the brim between your legs. As if it physically pained him to pull out, even if it was to hammer back in.

As it was his simple instinct to balance you on top of his attractive bike and bounce and bounce and bounce you on his lengthy cock, the end of his tip probin’ at your every spot inside.

It left your eyes racing to the back of your skulls, the front of your chin glazing thickly with your saliva.

Something that Sukuna’s ravenous tongue dips out to clean off of your face- “Ahhh- how can I resist you, sweetheart?” For your whimpering silence, you’re getting two more rough spanks on top of your folds. “Let me give you a little hint…”

He lifts his right hand off of your drenched core then, reaching out to grip at his bike’s handlebar.

And then revving—

“Turn the engine up l-louder!” You gasp out, the realization hitting you all at one with the pushes of his cock into your sweetest spots. “The second rule is t-to turn the engine up.”

“Good girl.”

With a hand pushing on the handlebar, Sukuna controls a ruthless staccato of revving up the engine just when he could feel your cunt diving down to his hilt. Just when you were closest to the engine and could feel the vibrations at their strongest. Just when it let his entire shaft bask in the gummy hot embrace of your cunt squeeeezing around him at the sparks of pleasure.

This just felt too good, and you shake as Sukuna lets go of the clean handlebar to drag a thumb between your slit. Pressing the fatness of it down on your clit, “And the- hah-” You cry out, “-and the third one-”

“Impatient, huh?” He grins, “Go on then. What’s Ryomen Sukuna’s third rule to be- mmm, quiet?”

“Third one is that you control…”

Cooking his head smugly, “Control what?”

A particularly hard thrash at your deepest depths, and the slit of his cockhead manages to curve against yours walls. Perfectly in the same spot. Again and again. Until you were sure that he’d created a little indent there that only he could reach so well- “Control how- ngh! how loud I am?”

“Wrong.” Sukuna seemed way too content with himself to announce this—smack! Smack! Smack! 

Without pausing, he was pressing in three consecutive slams against the most tender parts of your cunt, ending off with that poor clit of yours that was just cryin’ out at the abuse it was facing. And he doesn’t seem to regret it just one bit, “Try again.”

“Control my tears?”

Smack!

“Again.

“My pace?””

Smack!

“Again.

“M-my—” And the only thing that your body can even coherently do is wrap your arms around Sukuna’s bulky shoulders, lifting his t-shirt and taking in all the sensual tattoos that you just wanted to lick off of his skin. “-my orgasms?”

“Mhmmm—” Just so proud, he’s finally able to roll the crown edge of his thumb over your clit like you deserve.

But what you didn’t account for was just how sensitive you’d be after multiple highs and your pussy being constantly under the threat of his rugged fingers. Toyin’ with your pussy to seemingly no end again and again and again until—

Until you’re crash-landing into your third high of the night, and even Sukuna wasn’t able to predict it.

It takes you over by surprise, just a sudden thunder of your heartbeat in your eyes - your eyes wrenching open, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy kissin’ his prolonged shaft until it felt like your were trying to mold the lightning patterns of his veins to your walls.

And Sukuna’s hunching his own body forwards with a low- “Fuck-” Gnawing down on the insides of his cheek. Entire forehead perspiring into something sheeny.

It takes every shred of will in his body to stop himself from creaming right then and there- and instead focus on fucking you through the peaks of your high. He’s counting the pulse of your pussy underneath his breath, using it to perfectly time the direct thwacks! onto your g-spot. “Fuck, you didn’t.” Sukuna whispers, more to himself than anything. “Fuck you didn’t…you are.”

“C-cumming—” You’re announcing belatedly, fucking back into his toned v-line.

“And who said you could?”

“Wh-what-” Your eyes snap open - with great effort, considering how you were still in the throes of your high.

And without warning, Sukuna grasps the side of your waist with one hand. The other one of his smacking and smacking and smacking over your cunt- “Says it right here- fuck, rule number three s’that I control when you cum.” There was something blazing in his eyes, looking at you through his rosy bangs as if he was going to devour you. “And who said you could cum without me sayin’ so, honey? You want everyone in here to hear you- you want this entire fucking town to hear you?”

He stops slamming his rude fingertips down on your clit to instead hone in on your clit and drag. And pinch.

You moan loudly- “Fuh-fuuuuuck-”

“Because I can make this entire- fucking- town hear you.” And it didn’t sound like a threat - it sounded more like a promise. A challenge. “So unless you want this town and the next two town over to know who fucks you right-”

“Oh, please—!” You gasp. Your ears pop at the sheer amount of pleasure that was coursing through your veins, and every deep plunge of Sukuna’s cock felt like he was stimulating every tiny orifice inside of you.

Increasing the force of his hips going upwards as if he wanted to stimulate them even more- to mark his name out on every tiny nook and cranny. “-unless you want that- hah, then you better cum again.” Sukuna’s snarling out, his sharp canines peaking out at you. “You’re gonna cum when you’re done r-reciting all my rules, aren’t you? Gonna cum for me then-”

“Y-yeeeees—” Even though your previous orgasm had settled over your body, until it felt like your skin was on fire with each passing second. Until your slick channel seemed to be caressed and massaged raw and Sukuna still wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. You think a few cars whizz by on the road, but you can’t pay attention to that right now. “The fourth rule s’th-that you’re gonna make me sensitive until I can’t scream-”

“Overstimlate you.” He corrects you, though for that you get a loving few rolls over your clit. A correct answer. He assesses you, “Mmm, almost there with that…heh.”

“And the fifth rule-” Your hips start to tremble weakly, “-the fifth rule is that I have to take it…”

He nods eagerly, mouthing the words over each sultry squelch and slurp as the rounded end of his cockhead pushin’ into your cervix. Again and again. “Mhm, you have to take iiiiiit—”

And you imitate the silent movements of Sukuna’s lips, “-a-all.” You gasp, feeling his fingers start to work up a frenzy on that cute lil’ nub between your folds once more. “The fifth rule is that I have to take it all.”

“Perfect. Now this pretty pussy better cum all over my cock- at least, she would.” He hums, ebbing you somehow closer and closer to your…you honestly forgot what number of your high it was by this point.

And Sukuna only seems too happy with numbers- “But that was only five rules, sweetheart. And Ryomen Sukuna has six rules.”

Your brows furrow, “B-but I swear you only told me five-”

“Oh? Don’t you know? He’s just added in a n-new rule right now—” You shiver to think just what that might be, and Sukuna only seems all the more ravenous to tell you. He bucks his hips up into you like an animal, just pistoning his cock inside until the feeling of your cushy cunt was the only thing he could feel, the only thing he wanted to feel, the only thing he thinks he ever will- “Rule number six: beg to take every single drop of my cum.”

And you don’t even need it to be a rule for it to be your true carnal feelings, “Please-” You gasp out, embracing Sukuna fiercely. “Cum inside me- g-give it all t’me, Kuna.”

“Mmm, rules are rules.”

The both of you are reaching your euphoric peaks at the same time - you having lost count with the number that you were on, Sukuna reaching his first and his strongest.

Powerful muscles shivering. His voicebox cracking with a lecherous groan.

He’s scrunching his blushing brows as he spurts out seed deeeeep and hotly into your womb, letting the ivory mess trickle down the sides of your channel and end up glazing his tattooed base. Wad after wad. Stream after stream. It ended up hot and heavy inside of you—so much of it that you swear you could feel the warm volume of it seeping out. “F-fuck-” He gasps out, sounding more ruined than you ever would have thought him to be. “Say it- say it say it say it—” Cracking one crimson eye open at you to peer at your orgasmic expression, “What’s the sixth rule, sweetheart?”

“Beg to take every single drop-” Your own high had left you in tears, body twitching so delicately between each buzz of bliss - not even waves at this point, you were simply too far gone. “R-rule number six is to beg to take e-every single drop of cum-”

“And are you begging?”

“I’m begging.”

He holds you tight and pushes every white gluey wad deeeeeeeep into your womb, you can feel the rotund edge of his tip swirling around the mess inside you. Slick filing every orifice. His bodyheat turning into something feverish because of his high and transferring into yours.

Meanwhile your high had you absolutely gone, and perhaps this was your limit - perhaps this was Sukuna actually succeeding in fucking you dumb.

Because the most intense arcs of your high are passing, and you’re barely even making any noise save for a few whispers and whines. Tucking your head into the crook of Sukuna’s neck, you shake with the electricity. Another car passes. Sobbing, “K-Kuna…it feels so wet.”

“What do you mean we- oh.” It’s only then that the biker looks down - only to find out that you’d squirted all over his prized bike. His seat. 

Your cunt almost numb with pleasure, your hole expands with pure gushes of liquid arousal. Over and over. Again and again. It takes so much out of you to let out the glossy messy, one that ends up slathering down Sukuna’s abs, creating a gleaming sheen that shines even in the night. 

Sukuna’s shocked by the primal urge in him to not even wash it off-

“Fuck- maybe we should make a seventh rule about this…”

“You think?” You huff.

.

.

.

Breakfast hour was always the loudest. The most boisterous. The most lively.

Especially with fourteen members of a biker gang occupying the booth at the very end of your diner as if they lived here. Well…you supposed that one of them technically did - and you could see his gruff expression right now, eyes narrowing at the chaos that his group was causing.

Their loud cackles and crude jokes drew chuckles from every other regular there, still in awe at these avid new customers that were anything but regular. Their imposing bikes lined outside. Their conversations rattling the tables.

They’d quickly become the heart of the diner (and your town) in the last few weeks.

For starters, Naoya Zenin never weaseled his way through those swinging doors ever again. His father ‘mysteriously’ resigned from his post as mayor. They’d ‘mysteriously’ left town. And then you’d come to discover that word of mouth travels fast within biker gangs, and soon enough your lil’ town had bikes cruising joyfully through them every few seconds - with your diner turned into a hotspot above all! You’d been forced to hire more part-timers, and promote Miwa into working full-time (she’d positively squealed the roof off in excitement, and you still weren’t quite sure whether that was mostly because of the promotion or because you’d announced your relationship…)

Ah yes. And then there was Sukuna…your core and legs were still sore from the night before, and every night that preceded that.

He was an animal.

And he was here to stay.

You watch as the members of the Curses try to include everyone in their conversation, but only end up talking over everyone- which was likely to end up in a fist fight had it not been for the look your boyfriend gave them. Just one look. 

And they were settling back down into their seats and only somewhat noisy debates.

Sukuna catches your gaze from beyond the counter and raises a pink brow—do you need me to shut them up properly? You knew that was what he was asking without words.

But you only shake your head with a smile.

Picking up your large pot of coffee, you’re weaving through the tables giving everyone who wanted a complimentary refill. It’s only once you manage your way up to Sukuna’s gang’s booth that a smile finally graces the pink-haired man’s face, “Finally! I was about to leave no tip.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know how good you are at leaving tips.” You wink, making the table erupt in rambunctious wolf howls.

Why wouldn’t they? Especially not when their ever-tough leader’s face was just so red—“Yeah yeah, wait and see what tip you get tonight-”

It’s then that you hear the doors of your diner swing wide open.

And with a playful glare thrown at Ryomen Sukuna, you’re turning to greet the newcomer who could be…his brother if anything. 

The same towering stature.

The same narrowed gaze.

The same tattoos on his face.

The same leather jacket that denoted him to be one of the bikers.

You could even argue that some of their handsome features were similar, except for the long, snow-white hair that this man had. Not to mention perhaps the most eye-catching feature of all - the looooong line of small hoops that decorated his slightly elongated earlobes, heavy with piercings. 

“This fucker- he should know better than to set foot on my fuckin’ turf.” Sukuna’s slightly tense voice echoes behind you, sounding as if he was a distance away. He tilts his head with cockiness, staring down the man even when seated- “Leader of the Simurian biker gang.”

By the time you’re turning back, Dabura has strode up to you silently.

His fiery eyes sweep between you and Sukuna.

Between the bite marks on your necks. Between the slight radiance around you.

Between the way you could barely even stand-

Sukuna stands up and stands head-to-head with the man, a silent battle between the two bikers.

“Ryomen Sukuna” The other man’s deep voice echoes.

“Dabura Karaba.”

“I didn’t expect you to be in some small diner- then again, I don’t expect much from you.”

“Is it because you don’t expect me that you never see the punches coming?”

Dabura seethes, “You-”

“Thaaaaat’s enough for today!” Somehow, you found yourself wedged between the two men, being squeezed from both sides by their incredibly chiselled fronts. You could feel their prominent pecs. You could feel their abs. You look up at them with a nervous smile, unsure how long this would last before all hell breaks loose and your diner ends up in shambles and debris. “How about we ah- we just get something to eat together, hm? Enough of that ah- biker rivalry and beating each other up. Let’s just have breakfast- on the house! Our specialty today is this French-”

Dabura raises a brow, looking at the rather…intimate position the three of you were squeezed into. “Eiffel tower?”

Sukuna breaks out into a grin.

You gulp.

A/N. Can y’all believe that (in some time zones) the next time I’d be posting is in 2026?!