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dietcokegirly12 · 2 days ago

Note

im sorry to bother you but I love your writing sm... could you do a nikolai one or a threesome with fyolai

“Pent-Up”

featuring fyodor doestovsky and nikolai gogol ִ ࣪𖤐

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

art credits: pinterest ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

a/n note: thank you anon for this req omg, i had so much fun with it (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) also dw i'm gonna release an only nikolai fic laterrr!

keep in mind, reader replaces dazai in the prison arc (っˆڡˆς)

tags: threesome, cowgirl double penetration, mutual masturbation, anal, unprotected sex, teasing, slight degrading, squirting, humping(?), mention of death, mention of oral (fem) at the end, etc etc

word count: 2.5k

🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱

who knew being trapped in the most secure prison to ever exist could leave you so pent-up?

it had been eight months since you had last seen the light of day, and eight months since you had been touched by anyone but yourself.

and it was getting unbearable.

the only solace you had was the man in the cell across from yours, fyodor doestovsky.

as a former member of the port mafia, and a current member of the detective agency with a long list of crimes to your name, in all the commotion, you had been arrested by the hunting dogs and placed in the secure space across from his.

and as the days turned to weeks, and eventually you lost all track of time and what was happening in the outside world, he proved the only one you found comfort in.

through thick and thin, and no matter what, he was always there.

which obviously, he couldn't leave, but just the fact he would entertain you when the days seemed to blend together, and always would comfort you when you had one of your inevitable panic attacks from spending too long in confinement, meant the world.

and of course, being enclosed as you were, always in clear sight of the other, he really was always there.

whether it be when you were eating, or sleeping, or changing, or even.. masturbating.

and truly, when it happened, you hadn't meant for him to see, or even hear you. but you should've known you couldn't hide anything from a man with fyodor's capabilities.

it had been eight miserable months in the prison cell, and you were desperately craving physical touch. you practically ached for intimacy. so... you took matters into your own hands.

with a hand between your plush thighs, panties halfway to the side, and your back arched upward from your front-facing bed, you were doing something incredibly risky but you couldn't bring yourself to care, too lost in the haze of pleasure you were giving yourself.

"mmph.. hah.. f-feels so good," you moaned, picturing it was someone else's fingers toying with your clit languidly. someone else who was right in the cell across yours.

picking up speed in your rubbing, you squeeze your legs together, eliciting a small whimper as you feel yourself getting closer.

and just as you think you're going to be able to push yourself over the edge, and relieve all the tension that's been plaguing you for the past few weeks... nothing.

with a small frustrated groan, you turn over, pulling your fingers out in defeat.

now you were right back where you started, still incredibly horny, only with the addition of now being wet and throbbing, unable to finish on your own.

"need some help over there, myshka?"

you gasp, bolting upright and in the process, let the blanket fall off your body to reveal your bare breasts, and lower stomach.

“shit!”

fyodor simply watches with an amused look as you rush to cover yourself, quickly pulling your covers up to your chin.

“no need to be shy now, darling.”

“fedyaaa..” you whine out, cheeks tinted pink. “y’weren’t s’posed to see that.”

he smirks at that. “oh? then who was?”

you flush, turning away to drape the blankets over yourself, hot all over with embarrassment.

a few seconds later however, the quiet sounds of squelching fill the air, and confused you turn around, unsure what he’s doing.

nothing can prepare you for the sight that awaits you however.

fyodor’s pale hand wrapped tightly around his narrow cock, pumping up and down slowly as his eyes lock on yours, a coy smile curling the corners of his lips upward.

the first thought you have is that he’s long. longer than you’d be able to take, you bet, not that there was much likelihood of that trapped in confinement.

as you ogle at him with wide eyes, mouth agape, he purposefully lets out a drawn-out moan, his head tilting back in pleasure.

before you can stop yourself, you find your hand disappearing back between your thighs, desperately rubbing to get yourself off from the sight of him.

his eyes are closed, but his mouth tilts up, like he can sense what you're doing.

your cunt flutters at the sight of him so exposed like you'd never seen him, and you feel more arousal seeping out of you.

speeding up, you circle a finger around your sopping entrance before plunging in and out, sloppily lewd sounds ensuing.

reaching one hand up, you squeeze your breasts, panting softly as you imagine that it's fyodor's hands doing it rather than yours.

your stomach curls up into tight little knots, and your breathing heaves as you feel yourself finally drawing closer to tipping over the edge.

"say something to me fedya. please?"

he chuckles softly, voice slightly breathier than usual as he whispers out, "fucking filthy girl. jerking off to me while you think i'm asleep, hoping i wouldn't notice, hm?"

and it's then that you can't hold back anymore, soft cries of his name leaving you as you twitch and shudder, drenching your hand and thighs in your slick.

and you can't see it, but you know fyodor finishes close behind as soft, guttural groans leave his throat before he lapses back into silence, broken only by the sound of your combined soft breaths.

you had been facing up at the ceiling for most of it, and as you turn over to your side to face fyodor, you see he's already on his side, looking at you.

"as soon as we get out of here, myshka, i'm going to fuck you senseless."

your heart rate increases as you stare at him, lips slightly parted.

"these eight months of confinement so close, yet so far from you have been torture. i don't care who, or what is around us, i'm going to take you and finally make you mine."

you blush, already feeling needy between your legs again just from his words. "as soon as we get out.." you agree.

.˚₊‧˗ ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ ─── ˗‧₊˚. ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ

the next morning, you're awoken by loud shouting.

immediately sitting upright, you look over to fyodor's cell, but he's gone.

"hey!" you swing your feet over the side of the bed and are just about to stand up when suddenly the floor drops from under you, and you fall straight through.

you land with a harsh thump! on the hard floor in a foreign area, a tall man wearing striped pants and a white braid leering down at you. "so, you're the one who captured fyodor's heart while he was captured?" he laughs at his own joke before extending a hand to you, a sly grin on his face, one scarred eye shamelessly checking you out.

fyodor stands beside him, rolling his eyes at his companion, still dressed in his white prison uniform with his hands folded across his chest impatiently.

around them were several mangled bodies piled up, guards you assumed.

it was obvious this had been planned. they had clearly been in communication. and yet... what was it that fyodor had said last night? that it didn't matter who or what was around, he was going to take you as his anyway...?

you're startled out of your thoughts at the feeling of cold hands snaking around your waist, bringing you face-to-face with the man you had longed for in confinement for so long.

and now here he was.

touching you.

after being deprived of him for so long, you could care less whether his friend was there to watch or not, and without hesitance you throw your arms over his shoulders and smash your lips onto his, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

his mouth is cool on yours, and tastes faintly of something heavy and intoxicating, the slightly musky flavor invading your senses until you were practically drowning in it.

with one finger, he tilts your chin upward, and places light kisses down your jaw, tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin, making you groan in pleasure at the feeling.

and it's then that you feel the warmth of someone pressing into you from behind, and two arms wrapping around your waist.

you gasp softly, trying to move away and unintentionally backing your ass up further into the man behind you, causing him to let out a soft groan.

fyodor chuckles, pulling away to cup your face gently. "it's okay. he won't bite."

swallowing, you stare up at fyodor questioningly.

but before he can answer, the one behind you leans forward, breath tickling your ear. "name's nikolai. but you can call me kolya, little dove."

"i've been telling him about you, my cellmate, for a while now after finding a way to communicate to the outside world, and he agreed to break us out of here on one condition..."

suddenly, nikolai's hands which had been resting at your front begin to slide up your body as fyodor speaks, large palms coming to cup your breasts through your shirt, causing a small involuntary whine to slip out of you, slightly grinding your ass back against him.

"...he gets to fuck you too."

heat pools low in your tummy and you desperately nod in agreement, eager to feel both of their hands on you, giddy with the promise of finally being touched. "please."

nikolai laughs from behind you, hands squeezing tighter around your tits. "seems she doesn't mind having us both, greedy girl."

you whimper softly, leaning back on nikolai as you guide fyodor's hands to between your legs needily, not willing to waste another second.

"someone's eager." fyodor teases, lightly brushing his long fingers along your inner thighs, achingly close to where heat radiates from between them.

however, for all his taunting, he's not faring much better than you, his pants tented from the impressive bulge straining against them.

"someone's eager.." you mock back, one hand reaching out to splay across his painfully hard cock.

with a hiss, hips bucking into your touch, his eyes turn feral, voice dropping dangerously low. "take off your pants. now."

as you quickly obey, nikolai's hands slide down to help you, leisurely pulling them down past your hips until you're in nothing but your panties sandwiched in between them.

quickly, they shift you so you're straddling fyodor's chest, with nikolai behind.

"think you can take us both, dove? i don't want to wait any longer." nikolai purrs out, eye glinting.

as you nod in affirmation, they instantly begin to move as one, fyodor spreading open your thighs as nikolai's hands come to your hips, rutting against your ass slightly.

desperate to feel you for the first time, fyodor's already pulling down his pants to reveal his cock, flushed a pale pink and dripping with pre-cum. it's so long it reaches halfway up his stomach and is even prettier up close.

before you even get the chance to marvel at him, however, he's already lining himself up and pushing in. "myshka, you have no idea how long i've dreamt of having you like this."

all you can do is grip tightly onto his shoulders, soft gasps leaving you at the stretch of him pushing deep inside you.

his cock has a mean curve to it, one that has you dizzy as it reaches all the way to brushing your cervix, without even moving.

there's shuffling behind you as nikolai undresses, and before you can even adjust to having fyodor's cock nestled into your snug walls, his tip is prodding insistently at your hole.

expertly, he reaches one nimble hand to your front, toying with your pulsing clit languidly, and completely covering his hand in your slick before pumping his cock with it a few times as lube.

and where fyodor was impressively long... nikolai was impressively thick.

obscenely so.

his shaft was girthy, and lined with thumping veins and ridges, precum pearling at the slit tantalizingly.

and if you thought you were full before...

the second even an inch of his heavy cock started to push its way inside you, his hands holding your hips steady from behind, you swear you're seeing stars.

"fuck! s'too much! i-it's not all g-gonna fit!" you cry out desperately, squirming in fyodor's grasp as nikolai grunts from behind.

"yes it is.. take it. take it all like a good little slut." fyodor's fingers come to rub circles over your clit to get you to loosen up more for them, accented voice smooth as velvet.

"kolya! y'er so.. so big!" you gasp as he giggles slightly from behind, pushing you forward onto fyodor enough to lift your ass higher.

"hm, is that so? that's not even all of it yet.." and with that, he pulls back before snapping his hips into you, bullying the rest of his thick cock into you in one harsh thrust.

you squeal, falling forward onto fyodor who simply hums, before starting an absolutely brutal pace, meant to completely ravage your poor pussy.

nikolai also begins to thrust into you from behind, barely even giving you time to adjust to his sheer size before you're ping-ponging back and forth between the two, the filthy sounds of skin against skin filling the air.

with the force of their thrusts, your breasts are jiggling, and eagerly fyodor takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue laving tantalizingly around the hardened bud.

you moan, arching up as you quickly tangle your fingers into his dark hair, nikolai groaning behind you.

you know you're not going to last long, not with the way you've been dreaming of this for months, so in an effort to not cum too early, you try to crawl upward and away from their drilling cocks, but nikolai is having none of that, quickly pulling you back to sink even more of him inside you, a small tsk tsk leaving him.

"where you going, little dove?"

you whimper softly in reply, eyes shutting tightly as you try to fight the wave of oncoming pleasure threatening to crash over you. "kolya... fedya.. hmph c-can't.. m'gonna!"

and before you even realize what's happening, your body convulses as with a shudder, you squirt, gushing your release out all over the two, as wave after wave of blinding white pleasure hits you, leaving you a dripping, soaked, mewling mess when you're finally done, panting for breath.

"бля! какая у тебя грязная пизда!" ("Fuck! Such a filthy pussy you have!")

fyodor's words come out in frantic, slurred russian, his only warning before he's spurting load after load of creamy, white ropes into your abused cunt, some of it seeping out to puddle around you.

nikolai follows quickly, a loud throaty groan slipping out from him as more hot ribbons of cum paint your insides white, cock throbbing as he empties himself in you.

and as you all collapse into a heap of sticky, glistening bodies, your faces sweat-sheened and blissed-out, you feel someone nestling between your thighs.

looking down, you see nikolai's head pressed between your legs, eyes closed peacefully.

"kolya..." you warn, voice slightly ragged.

he smiles mischievously. "what? 'm resting!"

as you relent, settling back down, your thighs are pushed open suddenly and a hot mouth instantly latches onto your leaking cunt.

"gotta clean you up..."

and it’s then, you feel another mouth eagerly join.

tagslist (ask to be tagged!<3): @bokukenmakuroo @newnlovesjennie

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cruel-seduction · 3 days ago

Note

Bungou Stray Dogs

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Heyy! I hope this isn't a bother, but I'm absolutely craving some Fyodor x Reader! Sooo, imagine this—Fyodor was your husband in a past life, and now he finds you again in Yokohama, working for either the ADA or PM. Obviously, he can't just let his *wife* be with someone else, right? I’d love to see more of that whole 'immortal x mortal' vibe, ahh! And to keep it true to his character, he calls Reader 'Anna' even though they have a new name now. Hope you have a great day/night! 😊

(headcanon, fic, lines, wtv u prefer! I'm just craving for Fyodor ‼️🙏🏻)

Sorry, it took long. But I had test this whole month and I still have to give a test saturday. But I wrote what came in my mind.

The Ghost of His Heart

Content Warnings:

Summary:

In a world where fate binds souls across lifetimes, Fyodor Dostoevsky finds the one he’s been waiting for—his wife from a past life, reborn and unaware of their shared history. Consumed by an eternal love, he is determined to remind her of the connection they once had, while she struggles to reconcile her current reality with the strange pull she feels toward him. As their paths intertwine, emotions run high, and the lines between devotion and destiny blur.

Themes of obsession and possessiveness

Past life/reincarnation dynamics

Emotional intensity and angst

Mild cursing

Subtle manipulation (non-toxic but deeply intense interactions)

GLIMPSE - “Are you crazy?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

His gaze softened further, and for the first time, there was no trace of his usual composure. He looked at you with a vulnerability so raw it made your chest ache.

“For you? Yes,” he said simply. “A thousand times yes.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The air in Yokohama was heavy with a tension that couldn’t quite be named. It wasn’t the usual weight of humidity, nor the pulse of city traffic. No, this was something different—something darker that seemed to thicken the very air the moment you stepped into the room.

Anna.

The name, like a whisper in his mind, cut through the veil of time with the precision of a blade. Even in this new life, with all its contradictions and chaotic intricacies, Fyodor Dostoevsky couldn’t forget you. His wife, his beloved Anna, whom he had lost so many lifetimes ago—yet here you were, returned.

Not as you once were, but as you now were. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t even know him.

He watched you, hidden in the shadows of the ADA headquarters, his obsidian eyes following your every movement. You were here now, part of the Agency, fighting against the very forces he was using to manipulate this world. To control it. You didn’t recognize the mark of your shared past, but he could feel the connection. It burned like a flame beneath his chest, an ache he could never escape.

Anna, though—you didn’t even acknowledge him.

You walked past him without a second glance, busy with your tasks. Your eyes were clear and focused, the same spark of determination he remembered, yet they weren’t directed at him. They were for others, for missions, for this life you were creating, one without him.

It was an ironic, cruel fate: to love someone so deeply and to be utterly forgotten.

He knew why you couldn’t remember. The human mind, fragile as it was, could not withstand the weight of eternity. You had moved on. You had lived without him for however many years it had been since your last meeting in another life. And he had been patient, waiting. It was a sickness in his heart, a poison that burned through his veins every day he was away from you.

But now, with a single glance, you had returned to him. He had only to reach out, to remind you of everything you once were. But that was where the dilemma lay.

If he reminded you, you would resist. Your heart would rebel against the truth he would show you. But that was not the most painful part. No, the most painful part was this: you didn’t want him. You weren’t looking for him. Your heart beat for the tasks before you, for your duty to the Agency, to the people you fought beside. And worse—there were others who saw you, others who thought you belonged to them.

He couldn’t allow that.

You brushed past him once more, and this time, your shoulder brushed against his.

A fleeting, soft contact. He didn’t even need to touch you to feel the surge of energy between you. The electric charge that snapped through his body, a violent, desperate pulse of recognition. His heart tightened painfully in his chest.

And yet, you didn’t pause. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even look up from the stack of papers in your hands, the files you were carrying.

Fyodor inhaled deeply, his expression cold, unreadable. His mind worked furiously, plotting his next move. His next step.

His hand clenched into a fist.

Later that evening, he appeared in the shadows outside your apartment. He was not supposed to be there, not in this life, not in this world where he had to hide his true self beneath layers of deception. But tonight, the need to be close to you was overpowering.

You were in your apartment, oblivious to his presence. You had closed the blinds, preparing for an evening of rest after the chaotic day at the Agency.

But he couldn’t allow you to rest. He couldn’t let you forget.

A soft tap at the door. Just enough to catch your attention, yet gentle enough to be mistaken for the wind. He knew you would come. You always did, no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much you ignored him.

The door creaked open, and there you stood—wearing the soft, loose-fitting clothes you often wore when you thought no one was watching. Your hair was slightly disheveled from the long day. You looked tired. Tired, yet still as breathtaking as ever. The kind of beauty that made him ache.

Your eyes were wary when they met his, cautious. “Can I help you?” you asked, your voice gentle but firm. The same tone you used with the others at the Agency.

His breath caught in his throat. His gaze locked onto yours, and he allowed the silence to stretch between you. He could see the flicker of recognition behind your eyes—only a moment, but it was enough.

“Anna,” he said, his voice low, coated in that familiar, almost musical cadence.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your gaze narrowing. “I don’t know you. You must be mistaken. I am not Anna. So, why don’t you let it go, sir?” You laughed at your own poor joke.

Fyodor’s lips curled into a thin smile. The mask of calm, collected indifference he wore was in place. But beneath it, something darker simmered. His eyes darkened with a possessive fire.

“I am not mistaken, Anna,” he replied softly. “You may not remember me, but I remember you. I always have.”

His words hung in the air like a noose, tightening slowly around you. You didn’t know what to make of him, this man who claimed to know you so intimately, yet his presence unnerved you. There was something too intense about the way he looked at you, as though he could see through your very soul.

He took a step forward, his gaze unwavering. “You are my Anna,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an almost unbearable weight. “And I am your Fyodor.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a strange shiver running down your spine. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but something dark and intense. You took a step back instinctively, not understanding why his presence made your pulse quicken in such an unfamiliar way.

“I don’t know who you think I am,” you said, your voice slightly shaking. “But I’m not... whoever you’re looking for. N O A N N A, sir. My name is Y/N.”

Fyodor tilted his head, his expression one of eerie patience. “No, you are. You are Anna. And no one can take you from me.”

And with that, he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking as he closed the door behind him, trapping you in the silence of the room. There was nowhere to run now. He knew that—he wanted you to know there was nowhere to go.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you backed away, your eyes widening as you searched his face for any sign of a lie, any hint of his true intentions.

But there was none. Only the cold, implacable certainty of a man who had lived far too long, who had waited far too long, to let you slip away again.

The door clicked softly as it shut behind him, sealing you in the room with a man whose presence seemed to fill every corner, every breath of air. Your pulse quickened, and though you kept your composure, you could feel your resolve wavering under the weight of his gaze.

He stood perfectly still, his tall frame casting an elongated shadow in the dim light of your apartment. The faintest smile played on his lips—not smug, not cruel, but knowing.

“Do not be afraid,” he said softly, his voice like a lullaby laced with moonlight. “I would never harm you.”

“I’m not afraid,” you replied, lifting your chin in defiance, crossing your arms over your chest. “But you need to leave. I don’t know you.”

Fyodor’s eyes flickered with something indescribable, a storm that passed too quickly to be named. He exhaled slowly, his head tilting as if considering your words carefully, as though you’d just told him something patently untrue.

“You may not know me now,” he said, taking a deliberate step forward, “but your soul does.”

Your heart skipped a beat, though you refused to let it show. The strange pull you felt toward him, the way his words resonated in a place you didn’t understand, unsettled you. But you weren’t about to let yourself fall prey to whatever delusion he seemed to believe.

“My name is not Anna,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not her. And what the fuck. Like, what do you mean, ‘my soul knows you?’ No, it doesn’t, and neither does it want to know you, creep.”

For the briefest moment, his eyes darkened, a hint of anger flickering in his violet gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the calm confidence that seemed to radiate from him like an aura.

“You are right,” he murmured. “Anna is not your name now. But names are fleeting, aren’t they? A mortal convention. What matters is what lies beneath—the essence of who you are. That… has not changed. And your soul does know me, baby.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat as he stepped closer. He was close enough now that you could see the fine details of his face—the sharp lines, the pale smoothness of his skin, the way his dark hair framed his intense, hauntingly beautiful eyes.

“Stop,” you said, taking a step back, your voice wavering despite your best efforts. “You can’t just show up and decide who I am to you. I have my own life, my own choices.”

“You do,” he agreed, his tone maddeningly calm. “And yet, every choice you’ve made has led you back to me.”

Your eyes narrowed, judging him harshly, every fiber of your being screaming skepticism.

“You don’t remember,” he continued, his voice softening. “But I do. Every moment, every word, every promise we made to each other… it has stayed with me, even as lifetimes have passed. And now, you are here. Do you think that is a coincidence?”

You clenched your fists, willing yourself to punch him in his nose if he uttered one more word. But logic warned you against it; if he was dangerous, that could provoke him. So instead, you tried to reason with him.

“I don’t believe in fate,” you said quietly, though even as you spoke, the words felt hollow.

Fyodor smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of his lips. “You don’t have to. I believe enough for the both of us.”

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the city outside. You could feel the weight of his presence pressing against you—not in a threatening way, but in a way that made your chest tighten with an emotion you couldn’t name.

“Are you crazy?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

His gaze softened further, and for the first time, there was no trace of his usual composure. He looked at you with a vulnerability so raw it made your chest ache.

“For you? Yes,” he said simply. “A thousand times yes.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity, and you found yourself unable to meet his gaze. You turned away, crossing your arms over your chest as if to shield yourself from the intensity of his confession.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know you, and I can’t be her.”

Fyodor took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were approaching something fragile.

“I don’t expect you to remember,” he said. “And I will not force you to. But that does not change what is true. You are mine, and I am yours. Whether you know it or not, whether you accept it or not, that is the reality of our existence.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. There was no malice in his tone, no threat—only an unshakable certainty that terrified and intrigued you in equal measure.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you said firmly, turning back to face him.

He smiled again, a small, almost wistful smile. “No,” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are not a possession. You belong only to yourself. But your heart… your soul… they have always been tied to mine.”

The room felt unbearably still. You could hear your own heartbeat, loud and erratic in the silence. Fyodor stood before you, his presence overwhelming yet strangely comforting, like a dark cloud that promised rain but not a storm.

“I will not hurt you,” he said softly, taking another step forward. “I will never hurt you. But I cannot—will not—allow anyone else to take what is mine. You are my light, my salvation, my reason for enduring this endless cycle of time. And now that I’ve found you again, I will not let you slip away.”

His voice cracked slightly at the last word, and the sound tugged at something deep within you. Against your better judgment, you found yourself wanting to believe him, wanting to understand this strange, otherworldly bond he seemed so certain of.

But you couldn’t. You weren’t some helpless girl who let herself be drawn into something she didn’t understand, especially not by a man who seemed carved from shadow.

“Leave,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “Please.”

Fyodor’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted. Slowly, he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides in a gesture of reluctant surrender.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “For now.”

With one last lingering glance, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence of your apartment.

But even as the door clicked shut, you could still feel his presence, like a ghost lingering at the edges of your mind.

And for the first time, you wondered if he might be right.