I Would Do 20 Hours/day Of Manual Labor For You To Post Al Snippets, Iro.

i love this game <3

scaramouche is so freaking hilarious to me cause like. look at him. he's a short man with so much rage. he's famously very pretty when he's not snarling at you. he wears an ostentatious hat that can be seen from a mile away. he was 'set free' by his mom/creator for having a heart then proceeded to spend the next five centuries looking for one. he was adopted by a bunch of swordsmiths when found in the wild. he knows how to make a sword as he was taught by the best professional swordsmoths of his country. he knows how to take care of babies and small children, even if they're sick. he also knows how to make a nation collapse on itself and gained a whole moniker out of it. those qualities somehow exist simultaneously. he killed the entirety of raiden gokuden but spared the descendant of the man he thought had betrayed him because even then he held love in his heart for him. he literally endured dottore's mad experiments for probably centuries. he's been to the abyss. he figured out that Teyvat's sky is fake. he straight up reached into the tree of life and erased himself so that he could reverse the fate of those he had wronged. not even vengeance. that wasn't even priority, no he wanted to save the ones he loved. when that didn't work he accepted his memories and decided to work on atonement and vengeance. at the same time. he enrolled in the akademiya – the highest educational facility in Teyvat – by getting into an argument with a bunch of researchers because he has to have the last word. he woke up in a fantasy world and scoffed at the prophecy handed to him. he saved the replica of one of Gold's most dangerous creations by saying 'you need head pats, friends and therapy'. he then proceeded to give the head pats, friendship and therapy to his baby-sized dragon friend. he wakes up everyday and chooses violence, then somehow managed to be kind anyway.

he's so funny. I love him so much.

i forgor again

i just want to say..im not that active on tumblr, so if you want to see my works more often, my twitter - k0waiku !<3

good afternoon anhane nation 💥

prank gone wrong w/ childe

based on a tiktok audio!

HE FUCKING THAT SHIT UPPPPPPP

nikolai and the pursuit of freedom

wowzers wouldja look at that !! welcome to: nyx gets better at essay structure

quick little thing abt how nikolai views freedom altho its not super in depth sorry nikolai fans :ppp

anyway pls enjoy! (i dont think any trigger warnings apply but please let me know if there are and i will tag them/gen)

It’s time for a quiz! How does one become free?

It’s a question that Nikolai has contemplated for, seemingly, years. Nikolai works in strange ways in a desperate attempt to liberate himself from all emotions, permanently.

The conclusion that Nikolai has drawn is that being alive is a cage. Being human is a cage. Wishing for freedom like that of a bird’s, Nikolai rejects his emotions in all ways possible.

This is because Nikolai believes that freedom is found in defiance, just as birds must defy gravity in order to fly. And so, Nikolai contradicts his very nature. He displays a clownish persona, not to hide his true, contemplative self, but to lose it completely. Nikolai doesn’t kill because he cares not for human life, but it’s precisely because he does that he feels the need to contradict his aversion to cruelty by harming others. In order to be free, by Nikolai’s definition, he must completely forget his original self to become something free.

In a sense, this alienates him. Very few acknowledge the restrictive nature of following one’s emotions, and very few understand why he would conduct himself how he does. There is only one individual who Nikolai truly believed understood him, and that would be the heavily intelligent Fyodor.

Acknowledging Nikolai’s desire to lose sight of his original personality and contradict his thoughts at every turn was Fyodor Dostoevsky. And Nikolai is moved, he feels his essence to be understood by Fyodor in a way that is so alien to him to the point that it almost hurts. Nikolai truly loves how it feels to be understood by someone. It appears that, in being understood, he only drifts further from his goal. 

Experiencing adoration like never before towards Fyodor, Nikolai resolves to kill him. To wipe from the face of the earth the one who understands him so that Nikolai can go back to complete incomprehensibility in the eyes of others because Nikolai does not wish for understanding. He wishes for freedom, and being understood does not have a place in Nikolai’s definition.

If there are specific events which have led to Nikolai’s resolve at all is still unknown. However, a reader can only hope to see where exactly Nikolai’s pursuit to freedom will take him. How far he can go before he twists into a monster, trapped by his own definition of freedom.

YESYESYESYES

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: mature content, dark content, suggestive, kidnapping, daddy issues, manhandling | words: 5.5k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

It was the most comfortable sleep you have ever got.

When you wake up, you find yourself on a stranger's bed, with your ankles bound to the footboard and your hands tied together. You squirm but it only gets you so far—the man who tied you up did it so tightly that you find it hurt to even move your arms.

You give up and you return to lie down on the bed. The mattress feels a bit rough—probably because it has been used for a very long time. The pillow feels nice though—the owner must have regularly puffed it so it will not sag or pressed down. You roll your head to the side and your nose catches a sweet musky scent on the pillow.

Masculine.

You look around the room. There is no door. The place is worn out but well-kept at the very least. Your house is better looking than this. But this place feels more secure and peaceful than what you call a home.

You wonder if your father is concerned about your whereabouts. You remember leaving the house in the evening to get to work and it has been over twelve hours since you are home. Does he care? Does he think about you as well?

Deep down, you know that thinking about your father caring about you is just a mere cheap fantasy. It has always been that way.

Your mother passed away when you were younger, and you were left with your deadbeat dad. Both of you were and are still struggling with money. You have been working low-paid jobs to support mainly yourself because your father is only selfish to himself.

You remember the moment he got some loan from weird people to build a business. Time is rough and luck is not on his side—his business was better dead than keeping it going. The debt he got himself into was for nothing—because he made more debt to himself when he left that business.

He spiralled down—becoming an avid alcoholic gambler. His worth as a father went down the drain the moment he stole your money from your old piggy bank. You never mention it to him though, pretending that you lost your money in the street.

You do not want to get hit. Bottling up enough makes you spiral down too—becoming less of a daughter, just a servant, another piece of money-bringer for him to leech off.

So you know he would be less concerned about you—especially when you are aware very much of the fact that you are one of his burdens.

You sit up on the bed. You wince, the rope and the ribbon are threatening to tear your skin. You adjust your sitting position as you are currently wearing a dress—it already rides up your thighs which are covered with white stockings. These clothes are rented from the bar—since you can barely afford such cute clothes for yourself.

“Oh, shit!”

You look to the entrance, not realizing a man is standing there, flinching at your sight. You narrow your eyes, remembering his figure and face.

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

Never have you seen such a beautiful man—he is wearing a white shirt beneath a black leather jacket. His pants fit his long legs. His dishevelled hair is braided with a small red pompom. His eyes are mismatched—one emerald and another pale lilac. His figure is tall and toned—he looks strong. You are not surprised since you remember how easily he dragged you to go with him last night.

“Hello...” you say awkwardly and you notice how baffled he is. It is almost endearing—you are sure that this man is much older than you but he looks like he is still in his prime. Perhaps this is his prime.

You know you are being kidnapped right now—but for some reason, the fear you had last night already dissipated when the sleep you got was just too comfortable. You have been living in this area for a few years already. It is a small community, so you thought you had met every possible man in this suburban town. But he is a rare face.

“Do you realize the situation you are in right now?” He asks as he grabs your seized wrists. You flinch at his roughness but you do not pull away. Your arms are already straining and your hands are going numb.

“I asked you a question, girl.” He says. You glance at him. Your name is not just 'girl'. You have a name. Does he not know?

“M-My name is—”

“I already know your name.”

“Oh...”

Well, what were you thinking? He kidnapped you. Of course he already knows about you. You feel a flutter in your heart—knowing that someone takes the effort to get to know you. You wonder what else does he know about you—it feels a bit exciting to play such riddles.

“Hey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.” The man says before he nudges your head harshly with his index finger. You almost let out a small whimper as you bring your hands to cover yourself from his finger.

“I-I didn't mean it...” You weakly say, closing your eyes as he keeps poking you.

“Hey, hey, don't look away,” He grabs your jaw and you hiss when he turns your face roughly towards him. Your eyes meet his. Breath hitches when you realize how close he is to you now. “You're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.”

Get out of here?

You blink confusedly. Did he kidnap you... because of other people? Did he not kidnap you for himself? Did he not take you here because he wants you to stay with him?

“O-Oh, I'm not staying...?” Your lips mutter. You really do think that he kidnapped you because he wanted you—in that way. You feel the glass of hope slowly cracking apart when you learn that this is not the case.

Suddenly he shakes your head, causing you to whimper at his rough handling. “Of course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I-I thought—”

I thought you wanted to be with me.

“Well, clearly you don't think smart enough.”

When he shoves you away, you whine. You rub your face with the back of your hands, feeling how warm your skin feels. The trace of his touches on your face is still lingering—and it only feeds to your longing.

But it makes you think again. If he kidnapped you, not because he likes you or anything of the sort, what could it be? Does he have a dispute with you? Or people you know? Your senior in the bar? Your manager? Your customers?

“Is it... because of my father?”

“Smart girl! So you can think after all!” He claps his hand, and although there is clear mockery in his voice, you feel a heavy tug in your stomach when he calls you a smart girl. Is that a genuine praise? If so, you want to hear that again.

“Why, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.”

You look at him—oh, poor dude. Seeing how he is confident that he will get what he wants from your father makes you pity him. Your father is far from being caring about you.

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

“Okay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.”

Your lips part open when you finally connect the dots. You stare at him—so he is working with the loan sharks your father is indebted to. They must have wanted to use you as a hostage to get your father to pay his mountain of debt. If they go as far as to kidnap you, then your father must have angered them—well, you do expect that he will get in trouble. After all, both of you moved to this suburban area so he would not get tracked easily. He wanted to run away from his problem, and now you have to pay the price for being a hostage.

Huh, that is sad.

You observe your kidnapper—his skin is porcelain smooth, despite the dark circle under his eyes and the scar slit through his left eye. His flaws make him look flawless. You do not really want to leave this place just yet and return to your father shall he ever get his sympathy back and pay his debt for your sake.

You shift uncomfortably, your thighs are clenching. It has been a while since you are in this condition. “Can I go to the toilet?” You ask softly.

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

“D-Don't say nasty things like that.” You pout—feeling a bit embarrassed at his vulgarity.

“And who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?” He grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. You move your foot but then he grips your ankle, hard. “Don't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.” You swallow nervously and nod. You actually do not plan to fight him—you know you will lose either way. You look at your legs and then him and then your wrists.

You bring your wrists close to him, wanting him to untie it. You realize the familiar ribbon around your wrists—no wonder you feel like something is missing from your hair. The man silently untie your wrists and you let out a quiet breath of relief. Your hands are indeed numb and strained. You want to stretch your arms but before you have the chance to do so, he already yanks you to get up from the bed.

Your footings are unstable, especially when you were just freed. You keep stumbling upon your pace, constantly bumping against his chest as he drags you out of the room. He is too rough—too stern. Yet you wish to stay longer in his embrace. He looks messy but he feels nice and warm.

“Make it quick.” He says before he pushes you into the bathroom. You look around the bathroom. It is a small space. It is enough to accommodate a sink with a cabinet full of personal hygiene things, a toilet bowl with a bidet right beside it and a curtain separating the shower area.

You hear the door creaking close and you remember you need to say something to him. You quickly hold the door before he closes it. Your eyes meet his again—his eyes are just mesmerising to gaze at and you know you would never tire of looking at them.

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

You close the door before your embarrassment makes itself more obvious. You lock the door and take off your cardigan. You face the mirror, eyes wandering over your figure. The neckline of your dress is getting lower, you realize. It shows half of your cleavage already. There is a small tear on the dress too.

“You're too rough, sir...” you whisper to yourself.

— ♡

As soon as you got out of the bathroom, your kidnapper once again tied your wrists together with a rope—this time it was not too tight that it hurt you. He brought you to the living room and sat you on the couch before he tied the other end of the rope to the couch leg.

“Don't you dare turn around. Just stare ahead. Or else...” He threatened you, tugging down the skin right under your eye. After you nodded, he left you alone in the living room and you obediently stared straight ahead.

It has been fifteen minutes now and you can hear the sound of water rushing coming from the bathroom. You figure he is getting a shower now. You sit silently, just as you are told. There is a television but you see how old it is—it is most likely not functioning.

You look around the house—eyeing every spot possible. The couch is far from comfortable and you feel slightly bad that the man has to sleep here a whole night.

You still do not know his name...

The sound of the door creaking surprises you. You instinctively turn around and your eyes widen when you see your kidnapper stepping out of the bathroom with a piece of towel hanging around his waist. His body is toned and some parts are covered with tattoos of abstract wings and birds. His hair is wet and unexpectedly longer than you thought.

“I told you to not turn around, didn't I?” He says, monotonously. You immediately turn ahead, but you hear his footsteps approaching. Your heart is beating faster when you can smell his fresh-out-of-shower scent—so nice. His heat is looming right beside you and your head is still stubborn enough to twist slightly.

But not before he grabs your jaw again, holding your head straight.

“Naughty girl. What's so hard about listening to me? You are an escort. Have you never seen a half-naked man or something?” He says, once again his tone is clearly belittling you. You glance to your side, only manage to have a peek at his tattooed ribs. He snorts and lets go of your face. “Sit there nice. If someone's knocking on the door, ignore it.” He says before he turns around to leave.

However, you quickly grab his arm and you feel the fluster increasing, crawling up to your chest when you get a good look at his figure. He grunts, rolling his eyes but he does not say anything or mock you.

He nudges his head as if he is giving you permission to say what you want to him.

You purse your lips, nervous. “I... What's your name?”

“Stop being an idiot. I won't tell you.”

“Please?”

You see him taking a deep breath, rubbing his face with his palm. The droplets of water are dripping from his wet hair onto his body. He is silent for a moment, but his eyes are wandering at you—as if he is trying to find something behind your eyes.

“Please?” you repeat again, sweetly, softly.

He sighs loudly. “Nikolai.”

Nikolai.

Nikolai...

“Nikolai... Okay, okay.” You mutter his name—the way the syllables of his name roll out your tongue feels pleasant.

“Now let go of my arm.”

You blink profusely and look at your bound hands clutching his arm—he could very well yank his arm away from you, but he is asking nicely. You hold back a smile and let go of him. You turn around and your hands are rubbing against your warm face.

He is so nice...

You stay in your position for ten more minutes before Nikolai leaves the room. He sits next to you, fiddling with his phone, texting someone. You only sit there quietly, stealing glances at him. He is wearing a pair of navy blue jeans with a black shirt. A towel is draped over his shoulder, layering beneath his wet hair so it will not dampen his shirt.

You look down at yourself—you have not showered yet. There are no clothes for you and you certainly need a pair of new underwear. You want to bring it up to Nikolai, but seeing his serious face, you swallow your questions away.

The door is suddenly knocked, with an excited voice calling “Kolyushka, Kolyushka! Open the door! I have come, my friend!”

Nikolai does not say anything. He stands and gets to the door, opening it. You turn to look and you see a man with slightly long dark brown hair and a thin moustache and chin beard entering the house. He is wearing a worn-out puffer jacket and he waddles excitedly towards you.

“Oho, she's cute!” He says before he crouches right next to you. “Hi! I'm Viktor. What's your name?”

You anxiously answer him, finding your voice to be hoarse somewhat. Viktor coos in adoration and pinches your cheek, causing you to whine at his rough touch.

“Vik, Vik. Don't do that. She's valuable.” Nikolai says, tugging Viktor's shirt. Viktor grins and lets go of you before he plops himself onto the floor, sitting cross-legged. Nikolai sits back next to you.

“So?” He asks Viktor.

“So what?”

“This girl. What should we do?”

You are not sure if you should even listen to this conversation, but guess you are. Their laid-back attitude towards secrecy seems to indicate that they do not really have a bigger role in your abduction other than abducting you.

“Yeah, so... So I got in contact with the loan sharks and they actually did not expect that the job would be done so quickly. They thought you would take time to get the girl, so they also take time to find her father.” Viktor says before he looks at you. “Your father is a man of hiding, sweetheart.”

“You're saying they don't even prepare to find her dad before they commission us to kidnap her?” Nikolai sighs. “Why commit crimes when you are not that efficient? What the hell do they think when they want to threaten a man that they don't even bother to seek first?” He rolls his eyes, leaning back to the uncomfortable couch.

“Beats me, dude. That's what they said. I guess her father is one of their rarest victims who actually managed to get away from them for years, which is why they're struggling a bit. Besides, this country is fucking huge.” Viktor replies. “You are not originally from this place either, are you? You moved here.” He says to you and you nod slowly. Nikolai hums and suddenly sits straight. He holds your arm, grabbing your attention.

“Hey, tell us where's your dad.”

Both you and Viktor blink confusedly.

“If you tell us your father's whereabouts—his workplace or house, Viktor can tell that to the loan sharks so they can find him immediately. The faster they find him, the faster you'll be free. You wanna go home, yea?”

“Oh, yeah! You're right, dude! How did I not think of that?”

“Because you're equally stupid like those loan sharks.”

“Hey!”

Your throat feels dry. Tell them your father's whereabouts? You do not really care about the deal between your father and the loan sharks—it is all his fault for borrowing money from obviously bad people. Not only that, even after he borrowed the money, he stole yours.

Greed brings the worst out of anyone.

You are not sure if you want to go home. Is it even a home in the first place? A home should make you feel safer. Comfortable. However, when your mother passed away, she also took home with her to death.

You are left with two options now—if you tell them your father's whereabouts, you will leave this place sooner. The loan sharks will get your father and they will also take you away from Nikolai.

But if I don't tell them...

“Oi, tell us. Where's your dad?” Nikolai asks, shaking your arm. But you only stare at him, pressing your lips tightly shut.

“Not gonna tell, huh? You want us to force it out from you?” Viktor says with a grin. “Why? Do you not want to go home with your dear old dad? Are you afraid they're gonna hurt him? Well, if that isn't the consequences of his own actions.” He laughs, looking at you with amusement.

“I... I think kidnapping me is a mistake.”

“Haha! What the fuck?” Viktor's laugh is even louder, he even slaps his thigh. Nikolai, however, is only looking at you silently. You frown—disliking Viktor's loud attitude, so you turn to Nikolai, reaching for his hand. Why can't this Viktor guy be as calm as Nikolai?

“Can you listen to me, please? Alone?” You ask, voice sweet. Nikolai looks surprised when you touch him—evident by how his eyes are wavering from your face to his hand. He seems to be taken aback by your suggestion.

“You're begging at the wrong person, girl.”

“Please.”

Nikolai sighs and he pulls away his hand from you, causing your touch to drop onto his thigh instead. He swallows nervously before he gestures to Viktor to go away, to get to the kitchen or to wait outside. Viktor giggles before he gets up and taps Nikolai's back, leaving both of you alone. He gets to Nikolai's room and you hear a creak before a faint scent of tobacco tickles your nose.

“Hey, look here,” Nikolai says and you turn to him. “You've been weird for a while now. You know, you aren't the first person I kidnapped for money, but...” Nikolai rubs his lips, gazing at your face.

“Why are you so calm about this? Do you realize that you are in danger?”

His question somehow tugs a curiosity in you as well—Come to think of it, you have been calm for a long while now. You were scared and terrified for your life, sure, when you were dragged into his car last night. But now, you find it easier to breathe.

It is approaching noon, and usually, at this time, you are forced to cook something for your father—while he is lazying around the house, basking in alcohol and garbage. Your life is not yours during the day—only when you go to work, you can feel that you are at least living for yourself. Though, your work does require you to tend to others' needs—so is your life even yours during the night?

Have you ever lived for yourself?

“My father is a horrible man.”

“M'kay?”

“He... Uhm... How do I say this...” You fiddle with your fingers—your hands are still resting on his thigh. “We moved here, across the country, because he wanted to run away from the loan sharks... He keeps telling me that... I'm the sole reason he's in debt and it would be better if I'm gone, like my mother.”

“I-I mean, he's not wrong... I have needs and wants and... that's why I work. But he occasionally steals my money too...” You take a deep breath before looking up at him. “I have a feeling that once he knows he is being hunted again, he will just leave me here and run away again by himself.”

“You're saying that you being a hostage won't work because he won't demand you back?” Nikolai asks and you nod fast.

“I-If he cares that I'm gone... there would be a police report, right?”

Nikolai snorts, poking your head again. “Dummy, such reports about missing people can be done at least after twenty-four hours of disappearance. You still have more than twelve hours with us.”

“Does that mean I'm staying?” You are too quick to ask that. Nikolai suddenly brings his face close to you. His irises are wildly searching for yours and you almost yelp on how close he is. Your face is heating up and your heart is thumping so fast—you fear you cannot breathe properly.

“You don't want to go home, do ya?”

“Uhm...”

“Well, too bad I'm not that nice.” Nikolai snorts scornfully before he gets up, turning in the direction of his room as if he wants to see Viktor. Before he could walk away, you scramble towards him, clawing at his shirt.

“C-Can't you—”

“No, I can't. Unfortunately, little doll, I'm not a babysitter and you are only going to be my liability the longer you are in my fucking house.” Nikolai grabs your hands and pulls them away from his shirt. “I have a more important agenda than taking care of you. Now, sit there quietly and let adults talk.”

“I'm an adult.”

“Then be mature.”

He leaves you alone and your lips quiver—for once after a while, heaviness clouds your chest.

— ♡

“That's what she said...”

Nikolai says to Viktor, with a slow voice as he does not want you to listen. He told Viktor about how your father would probably not demand you back, but he did omit the part where he asked you about you not wanting to go home. Viktor should only know the necessary.

“So, her daddy doesn't want her back, huh?” Viktor sighs as he takes a long inhale of his cigarette before huffing the smoke out. “I'm gonna tell that to the loan sharks. You keep her here—”

“Fuck no. I did my job. I only have to kidnap her, no? Let's just give her to them and we are done.” Nikolai protests, almost pouting as he waves away the smoke hazing his face.

“The loan sharks are not going to retrieve her in one day, Kolyushka. The girl told you that she moved here, didn't she? The place where the debt happened was not here, but rather somewhere she had lived before... And I figured it might be somewhere so far away—Since her daddy ran away to hide. You won't go to the nearby region if you really want to run away from your potential murderers, right?” Viktor says with a smirk before he presses the cigarette butt onto the railing and tosses it outside.

“Why me, though? Why not you and Nastasya?” Nikolai asks, referring to Viktor's girlfriend. Viktor cringes and shakes his head quickly.

“You know how jealous my dear Nastyushka is...” Viktor grumbles.

“Who told you to stick your dick in crazy?”

“Well, if I didn't stick my dick in crazy, I would've been the babysitter now, wouldn't I?” Viktor retorts back with a teasing laugh. He once again taps Nikolai's shoulder. “I don't want this work to prolong any longer, but what can we do? So for now, you take care of her while I'm dealing stuff with the loan sharks, alright? Here, here.”

Viktor takes out several crumpled cash notes before he forces them into Nikolai's hand. He grins. “Treat yourself. And I know you want to negotiate our ratio for the payment for this job... Err... I take thirty, you take seventy. Yeah? Good, good?”

“No. Eighty.”

“A'right, fair enough.” Viktor throws his hands in the air, defeated. He turns to leave but halts his steps and looks back at Nikolai with a smile.

“I think she likes you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nah, you know I'm not bullshitting. That gaze she has on you is the same one as Nastyushka's when she's between my legs.”

Nikolai huffs, shoving Viktor. “Get out.”

“Geez, you are getting colder and rougher after prison, huh? Kinda miss my old chaotic Kolyushka.” Viktor cackles before he walks out. Nikolai sees him waving at you and you kindly return his wave with your tied hands. He hears Viktor saying something to you but he cannot catch it. Nikolai huffs and stares out the window. He cannot believe he is stuck with his victim, just because of his clients' carelessness.

He closes his eyes, brushing his hair back. Well, at least Viktor promised to give him a bigger ratio for the payment later. That fact alone is enough to solace him.

A creak suddenly surprises him. Nikolai turns to the entrance of his room and immediately walks out, only to see that you are already standing with the rope connecting your wrists and the couch leg stretched apart—as if you are trying to move away.

Without a second thought, Nikolai rushes to you, wrapping his arm around your fragile body, and tightening his hold around you. One arm around your torso and his other hand grips your jaw. You gasp but do not struggle against him. In fact, you look surprised.

“What are you trying to do, huh? You're not going anywhere, ya hear me?” He says harshly. You try to move your head, to look at him as he completely engulfs you in his embrace, but he holds you so tightly that you are only squirming against his body.

“Hey.”

“N-Nikolai...”

Your sweet voice once again halts his tendency to cruelty. Nikolai purses his lips, breath hitching. He looks at you, gazing into your eyes. You open your mouth, trying to speak amidst his rough hold on you. His thumb accidentally slips downward, brushing lightly against your lower lip.

“I'm hungry.”

“Wha—?”

“I haven't eaten since yesterday.”

Nikolai is taken aback—this girl made such a fuss only to complain that she's hungry. He already dislikes that he has to take care of you and he knows he could not let you die and rot yet, as the payment is still not given to him. Your value is still there as long as the loan sharks are actively seeking your father.

“Fine.” Nikolai pushes you to sit back on the couch and leaves to the kitchen. He checks the cabinet and the fridge but he only has bottles and cans of alcohol and carbonated sodas, some biscuits and chips. It is certainly not going to be fulfilling for both of you, because he also has not eaten any breakfast yet.

He has not done grocery shopping in forever. Usually, that is not his concern—but now he has another guest in his house for however long Viktor wants. He wonders if he should even go out with you, as he does not want you to leave his sight, in fear that there is a hidden rebellion in you.

He cannot trust people anymore.

“Hey,” Nikolai calls you and he slips out a knife from his pocket. He cuts the rope to release you and you instinctively wiggle your wrists, attempting to get rid of the strain on your hands. You look at him, confused. And he already figures out what you want to ask. “We are going out. I have nothing to feed both of us. But you ain't leaving my side. I know where and how to find you.”

“I won't leave you.”

“Well... Thanks..? Idiot.”

He drags you to his room and opens his old wooden closet. He takes out a black puffer coat. It is his size, so it certainly looks bigger on you.

“Are we sharing clothes?” You ask, your lips are curving asmile. Nikolai taps your temple with his knuckle, silently calling you an 'idiot' again.

“You are borrowing my thing. The weather is colder today and I'm not letting you freeze to death until I get my money.” He says. “Take off your cardigan.” You obey quietly, taking off your white cardigan. The baby blue dress is already looking loose and Nikolai has been noticing how you keep pulling back your neckline so it would not droop too low.

His desire gets the best of him for a short moment when his eyes trail down on your skin, leering longer on your chest. He takes a deep breath and averts his gaze when you almost notice him staring. “For fuck's sake.” He says as he puts the puffer coat on you. He zips it up until the collar covers half of your lower face. It is indeed bigger on you, as the end of the coat reaches your knees.

“It's very warm and comfy...” You say softly, hugging yourself as you smile at him—though it is hidden behind the collar. “I like it.”

“Your cheapskate daddy never buys you a coat?” Nikolai asks, snarkily as he gets his own jacket to wear.

“Never.”

His hand stops and he glances at you. You seem to not mind about the fact nor do you realize his curiousity. You proceed to say, “When it's cold, I layer my mother's clothes and mine. And... And the bar has heaters, so I sometimes sleep there.”

“Your manager is nice,” Nikolai replies, nonchalantly.

“Mmm... Not really. He is sting with bills, so I work overtime unpaid if I want to sleep there for heat.” You reply as your body sways side to side and Nikolai would admit that you do look adorable being enveloped by a big coat—like a penguin.

“Why are you telling me this stuff? It's been less than twenty-four hours and I already know a lot of unnecessary info about you.” Nikolai grunts as he reaches for a hair tie and starts braiding his hair nimbly. There is only one mirror in the house and that is in the bathroom. But braiding hair has been his primordial skill—he can do it with his eyes closed.

“I thought you wanted to know more about me.” You reply “I like talking to you. I like talking about myself.” You beam.

“That happens when you have to listen to old people's fuckery every night.” He says before he grabs a gun from his folded white overcoat in the bottom drawer. He hears your small gasp of shock when you see the weapon. Nikolai smirks and presses the gun right on your chest.

“I hope you are aware that I'm just tolerating you. Once you're gone, you're nothing more to me.”

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☆ "weeping clown" ; general sfw & nsfw headcanons

pairing / weeping clown x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / possessive nature, choking fixation, body worship, orgasm denial

word count / 1,335 words

author's note / i wanted more miserable, pathetic, lore accurate toxic weepy so i decided to just write it myself.

SFW

☆ a very clingy man that is far too quiet to ever be the one to initiate a conversation with you. after all, how dare he have such thoughts when you’re shining all so bright. altruist you can say but behind it, he is all but possessive.

☆ you will always find letters forwarded to you by someone of anonymity but his handwriting is all but so familiar. you will always feel a set of eyes following you in everything you do around the circus. whether it be practicing for your next act, applying your makeup, eating, or paying attention to your own body care, it's always on you.

☆ weeping clown by his stage name is very self explanatory. even with his wishes of being so much more than what he is branded by, he carries on his sorrowful demeanor behind the stage. meeting you, whether you’re the first to ever truly acknowledge him or give him the light of day of your time, he will think of that interaction of so much more.

☆ he’s completely infatuated by you, not having the guts or confidence to ever approach you, he will make gifts for you in secrecy, going to great lengths to have it personally delivered to you by a postman to possibly hide the fact that it was him all along.

☆ however, you have suspected the clown for awhile now. the way his eyes avoid your own, his stuttering and brightening red state of his. you have always thought of it as normal for the clown, his cowering state, but there is just something about him that rang alarm bells.

☆ weeping is easily flustered. any hint of your attention on him has him already a profused bashful state. especially any physical contact with each other, even if it’s just holding hands, his hands will instantly clam up and become so warm. he gets embarrassed at these times and would begin to avoid eye contact so you wouldn’t have to see him in such a “pathetic condition”.

☆ kissing the weeping clown is rough due to his very chapped lips. he’s a clumsy and messy kisser, having no prior experience and frankly, only kisses with pure want and no thoughts at all behind it as if you’re going to disappear on him. you’ll always feel his hands messily messing the back of your hair and at times, when he’s pushing his tongue down on you, he loves it when you tug down on his scarf.

☆ his love, to be blunt, is completely unconditional. it doesn’t matter if you kill someone with your own bare hands, even if his idea of you shatters, his ideology still stands. he’s a man that is completely obsessed with the idea of you and while it is a harmful train of thoughts, that obsession turns into a sick love.

☆ even if his love comes from a twisted place, he cares for you in his own little way. he’s overprotective of you and attentive to your mental and emotional needs of yours. if someone is bugging you, he’s immediately on the band wagon in planning on how he’s specifically going to privately and in secrecy, handle it.

NSFW

☆ weeping is not a confident man as we all know, and especially in bed. even if he’s bigger than most, around 8 inches or so, he is all but insecure about the approach. he’s a virgin and only has experience by touching himself late at night, clutching a crumpled picture of you and imagining your hands pumping his cock.

☆ he’s always the type to indulge in his personal fantasies and to finally have it happen to him, he’s all but overjoyed but extremely confused and insecure on how you can ever pick someone like him. he has always dreamed of you touching him, even when he’s ashamed of such thoughts when facing you upfront, he’d always go hard over the smallest things from you.

☆ your voice, your lips, your eyes on his, your scent, you brushing skin contact with him even if it’s just a small graze, oh god his dick is practically about to burst out his boxers. he loves the rough feeling of his dick begging to be dicked down and would often grind himself in his own boxers, imagining that friction is your pussy.

☆ he would get so long in those surreal fantasies of his, wanting to just breed you. but once actually having you, his insecurities of having little to no experience comes crashing down once more. you’ll be on his lap and he’ll be completely dumbfounded, absolutely having no idea where to put or place his arms and would stare at you undressing on him which god, is so hot to him.

☆ he’s the type to just cum right then and there in whatever you do to his body. touching his cock, oh he’s already seeing stars and tearing up. your warm mouth on his, he’s grinding his waist and dragging you by your hair to go deeper and deeper, causing you to choke and him getting off by your gagging sounds.

☆ he’s a big crier during it all, his eyes seeming to always tear up whenever he feels absolutely stimulated or from pure happiness, he’ll always throw his head back and bites his lips to the point it begins to start bleeding and then planting his blood soaked lips on yourself.

☆ body worship. weeping clown is ashamed of his disability and amputee, but you praising it and giving it utmost attention (not just only during sex of course) gives him an unexplainable emotion such as relief of your acceptance of him. how you don’t immediately shun him.

☆ he loves to worship you and your entire being, not just being the only one praised. he will always be going on and on, muttering about your beauty. he always feels as though he shouldn’t even have the privilege to be in your presence, let alone touch you. it’s an emotional moment for him the entire time, enveloping himself to your existence.

☆ he absolutely can’t get enough of you, always loving it when he’s the one on your lap or vice versa, he loves to look up at you and you wiping his tears off with your thumb. he loves to nuzzle on the palm of your hand every time you do it. once he’s more familiar and confident with your body, he finds himself more and more lost in sex.

☆ he’s a verbal partner, always gasping and lowering his moans. it’s not a hard feat to have him a mess over you and especially when you’re verbal, he can’t help but feel good knowing he’s the one getting those reactions out of you.

☆ he loves it when you deny him of his orgasm. tie him behind his waist and fuck his cock with your finger, palm, boobs, thighs, anything. he’ll start whining and drawing his voice out, begging for your touch, his tears practically streaming out by then.

☆ bouncing on his cock, he’s still so scared over the fact that you’re in his but he can’t help but get so lost in your touch. he’ll watch you with astonishment, watching your boobs bounce along your actions and begin latching his mouth on the bud of your nipples and sucking on it to the point there’ll be a prominent, red mark.

☆ aftercare with weeping clown would be him cleaning you up with a rag and bringing you the glass of water from the bedside, very quiet and unsure on what else to talk about. it’s a comfortable silence on your part but for the clown, he’s particularly anxious. you’ll have to be the one praising and tucking him for the night. during these moments, he’s especially emotional. he never wants to let go of this moment and then, decide to do everything that he can to keep you by his side no matter what.