#-Gogol about to write The nose

[luckytreecomputer]

Rip Nikolai Gogol, you would've loved Tumblr.

#What if- what if this one guy lost his nose and all the characters involved #Were super confused and panicked #Then he gets his nose back and his life goes back to normal. Wouldn't that just be so fucked up? #Nikolai gogol #The Overcoat #The Nose #Diary of a Madman #He gets it #He understands #The original shitposter #-Gogol about to write The nose #He must've been high #He had a high-dea and then sobered up and still decided to write about it #This guy is wack #I love him give me more

[smalltownfae]

I hate that I only started writing my opinion about books later in life because I have such a bad memory I can’t remember anything about certain books. I only remember how much I liked it, but no thoughts besides that. It sucks.

#booklr #this was prompted by my annoyance at not writing anything about the nose by gogol #I remember finding it funny and really enjoying it but that's it #vague memories of a nose being the entire face of someone and walking around

[angelzai]

Hi! I love your writing sm!!🥰 can I request a jealous Nikolai or Fyodor (nsfw pls) it doesn’t matter either one 🙏

jealous – nikolai gogol + fyodor dostoevsky . . . .ᐟ

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 1.5k

cw: explicit sexual content, gn!reader, language, dirty talk, brief mentions of ownership/belonging, toxic ass men. nikolai: mentions of injury/threats/murder, edging mention, oral (m!receiving), rough facefucking, wrist restraints, cum eating, nicknames (dovey, angel, sweetheart; kolya for him); fyodor: teasing, mild degradation, mild spanking, one religious reference, fingering, penetration, i love yous, nicknames (pretty, my love, whore, милашка/milashka=cutie; fedya, my only/everything for him)

reid: hey anon, thank you so much for the kind words uwu why not both?? inspo for this struck me as hcs/scenario format, hope that's okay <3 this is my first time ever writing for nikolai! he's so insane and he was actually a lot of fun to take a shot at. enjoy!

. . . .ᐟ

i can see NIKOLAI being easily made jealous.

even if you don't mean to provoke it, he's got a screw or two loose enough that his paranoia will get the better of him

and in true nikolai nature, he'll do some unhinged shit in the name of protecting his relationship with you.

he definitely maimed, shot, and mutilated a couple innocent flirters before you could really sit down with him and express how much you...disliked that methodology.

he does not play about you.

he gets better about it further into your relationship - no more murder on your behalf, you tell him, and he can manage that much! with this man, however, the unfortunate soul who fucketh around shall still findeth out.

oh, how he enjoys the look on the handsy stranger's face when he slinks up behind you to curl around your waist and portal-hold the tip of a blade to their chin

likes your reaction even more!

the way you squeeze his arm when you realize it's just your beloved jester behind you -

the blush on your face as you explain to the scum that this is your dear boyfriend (and apologize for the knife pointed at their face) -

the smooch you whip around to press to nikolai's cheek while he withdraws the weapon but never breaks eye contact with the stranger as they back away -

it all works like a charm!

what he loves most, though, comes later...

He's been edging himself with your mouth for god knows how long.

"If other bitches get to hear you talk, it's gonna be with that pretty voice wrecked," Nikolai groans, out of breath. "Feels- ngh, s'fuckin' good."

You can barely take it anymore. The blood's rushing to your head, first of all - it's been hanging off the edge of the bed practically since the minute you got home. Your jaw aches as Nikolai continues to use your throat. Most frustrating, though, is the pulsing heat between your legs that you can't even sate because your lover has bound your wrists up near your chest - all you can do is arch when, off and on, Nikolai reaches down to play with you while he fucks your mouth.

But he's getting needy, you can tell, because he loses himself a bit - he hasn't touched you in a good few minutes and his thrusts are getting greedier. He's long quit letting you come up for air. You think you've run out of tears - all you can do is breathe furiosly through your nose as he holds each side of your head and grunts from his chest as he ruins you.

You claw at him. "So good, dovey," he tells you, "almost done. Keep bein' good f'me- yeah."

You move your tongue how you can, hum around him when you can - eventually your dedication is rewarded when he pulls all the way out and strokes himself frantically over your tongue - and you cough a little, curling up into yourself.

You can hardly help your open-mouthed smile, however, when Nikolai releases the rough grip on your jaw to caress your cheek as he cums in thick spurts across your face. Your lashes flutter, he's moaning - "fuck, angel- angh!" - and you let out the garbled beginnings of a giggle as you lap up what makes it in your mouth.

You feel him scoop his load off your skin before his finger's in your mouth. Immediatley after you suck the rest of him down, he's bending down to kiss you sloppily and uncuff your wrists.

"That's my dovey," he affirms (more to himself than you). He peppers your face with kisses, his messy, snowy bangs brushing your face. "C'mere."

He works you upright just to lay you back down, more comfortably this time, finally and with fervor circling his fingers around your clenching hole.

"Kolya-" you rasp, sore.

"Took me so good, sweetheart," Nikolai shushes you, eyes alight with mania as he starts trailing kisses from your neck to your stomach. "Now that you remember who owns you, 'm gonna show you none of those motherfuckers could make you feel as good as I can."

. . . .ᐟ

oh, demon FYODOR.

i think he's less jealous than he is simply possessive.

he's not super concerned about people flirting with you, doing things for you, checking you out...in fact, he kind of likes watching those things happen! not that he doesn't expect it, you're perfect after all <3

because he knows, as you settle in his arms to whisper about the compliment you received or giggle at the person who offered to pay for your coffee, none of it will ever compare to the sweet words and pure love he showers you with, and he relishes in that fact. they can try anything they want, but you will never belong to anyone but him.

doesn't go needlessly far with expressing his jealousy when it does crop up - he's a tactful man, and he's not going to act out in a way that might put you off like nikolai will

he's patient, too. he's so composed around others. no one expects it - anyone who doesn't know better would assume the idiot who makes a pass at the demon king's beloved would get the whole room aired out in a matter of seconds

on the contrary, fyodor will sit with the closest he can get to a humorous grin on his face while he waits for you to make your way over and kiss him or sit on his lap or hook your arms around his waist

he'll tease you a little about it. "getting some attention?"

if you smile at him reassuringly, lean in, and tell him, "none that truly concerns me," all will be peaceful.

if you tease him back, however - maybe cross your legs away from him and shoot him a smirk and a quick "maybe so" - oh yeah, you're in for it.

He works you up, makes you a mess - then he throws it in your face.

"My gosh, милашка-" He doesn't take the Lord's name in vain even while he's drawing downright sinful noises from your body. "-listen to yourself. Shameless."

Fyodor's a patient man, as mentioned before; he uses it to his advantage in situations like this. He's stretching you out on his lithe fingers, slowly, almost painfully - his other hand traverses your thigh, landing a hard spank to the side of your ass each time you roll your hips unwillingly. You really can't help it either way - you have to watch and feel his pretty, pale fingers disappear into your hole, so it's either squirm and get smacked or whine and get mocked.

You're in a lose-lose situation, it seems. It felt amazing at first, the slow curl of his knuckles inside you, the gentle circling of his wrist, the concentrated sighs that left his rosy lips as he watched you relax into his touch, but now it's just torture. Now, you can only clench furiously and cry out please, please, just a little faster, Fedya, please!

Your eyes water when he finally gives in a little, moving fractionally faster.

"Do you deserve it, my love?" He cocks his head, looking at you as if he really values your opinion on the matter. "Or, my whore - since you're comfortable entertaining the advances of strangers."

You weren't, you must've sworn up and down ten times by now. You were being polite, you promise, but he shakes his head, his soft black locks waving as if mocking you too.

"Polite? You're lucky I haven't forced that filthy mouth shut. That's what got you here, after all," Fyodor explains excruciatingly. Sure, you got a little sassy with him after he accused you of being just that, a whore, after you'd flashed a humble smile toward the fellow restaurant patron who'd sent you a drink. And sure, that was tone deaf of them, considering Fyodor was very clearly holding your hand across the table and sporting your love bites on his neck, but you just couldn't be rude.

His eyes soften when a fat tear rolls down your cheek.

"Oh, pretty, don't cry." He shifts his legs beneath himself; his pace stays the same, but he reaches deeper inside you. "You remember who you're talking to, yes? You learn your lesson?"

You nod frantically. You whimper. "Of course, of course, Fedya, my only, ‘m sorry..."

You yelp like you've been burnt when he pulls his fingers out of you, but soon enough his hand is gripping your waist, his tip is teasing your entrance, and he's cooing into your ear, "Your only. You only love me, right? Say it."

You cup his face, grab at his shoulders, grind into him as you tearily reply, "Only love you, Fedya. I love you. You're my everything, please. My everything. I love you."

He knows you do. He just has to make you say it - make sure you know you do.

Fyodor's tongue finds yours as he thrusts into you - you're his everything, too, and he won't admit that, but he'll fuck you so good you know it's true.

"Relax, my love. Let me make you cum."

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #bsd nikolai x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #nikolai smut #fyodor smut #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #angelzai original.ᐟ #devilzai hours.ᐟ

[poetryandfluffycats]

Quiz time!

A/N: took a small break but im back and im writing bungo fics. hope you enjoy

Pairing: Kidnapper!Nikolai Gogol x fem!reader

Warnings: dark content, kidnapping, mentions of animal violence, mentions of human violence, implied abuse

Content: Nikolais been keeping you trapped in his basement for 3 weeks now. What does he have in store for you today? You have no idea

Words: 1.0k

Oneshot under cut!

"Oh darling! I'm home!"

The infamous voice of Nikolai Gogol shot through the basement, followed by the sound of his leather shoes creaking against the stairs. My head snapped up from its place on the pillow, watching him with wide eyes as he descended to the bottom of the staircase. The jester had a smile on his face, seeming all too giddy about... something. What that something was, I had no idea.

He was quick to skip over to me, looming over my curled up form under the covers, a hand buried deep into the abyss of his coat. He pulled out a bouquet of pink roses, shoving them under my nose. "For you, my dove" he purred, his voice dripping like sickly sweet honey.

I took them, albeit hesitantly, and examined them with a cautious eye. They were pretty, a light, pastel pink color with a white ribbon tied around the stems, and smelt like heaven. A sweet-but not too strong-floral scent that reminded me of the spring time. It was a nice gift, no one could deny that, but knowing Nikolai...

There had to be some type of ulterior motive.

"Pretty..." I murmured, holding the flowers close to my chest. "Thank you..."

I hadn't spoken much since I got here, only ever really muttering a word or two to keep him satisfied. He talked enough for the both of us, anyway, or at least that's what he had said when my lack of words first was noticed by him.

"Only the best for my sweetest dove! Now, come come, what shall we do today? You're probably just dying to have some fun, right? Aha! I know!" Before I could fully understand anything he had said, Nikolai pulled the covers back and lifted me in his arms, carrying me bridal style as he twirled around the basement.

"Quiz time!"

Quiz time. His way of asking personal questions on the justification that it was 'just a game' and 'there's no need to be shy". Sometimes he'd throw in random questions about Ukrainian literature, to which I almost never got right. I think that maybe he thought that asking a few general questions among all the pervy, personal ones would make me more comfortable, or less likely to catch on to the real meaning behind his game. It didn't.

I hated Quiz time.

Nikolai plopped me down on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of me. His teeth showed as his lips curled upwards into a toothy grin, head tilted to the side and eyes blown wide. Maybe that's just how he always looked.

"Question 1! What is your favorite color?"

It was such a simple question, childish even. Something a teacher would ask their preschoolers on the first day of school. Yet, it made my throat close up, heat beating faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. What was my favorite color? Did I even have one anymore? What was the point in having a favorite color if I was trapped down here?

"Uh..." I stuttered, eyes flickering around the room. Anywhere was better than Nikolais cold, mismatched eyes. "Purple... b-but I also like red"

Nikolai clapped his hands together, a high pitched squeal leaving his lips. "Wonderful! Gosh you are just too cute, I might simply combust! But then you'd be stuck cleaning my brains off the wall which I don't think you'd like very much, so I'll refrain for you, my darling"

Cleaning brains off the walls? He said it so casually, like it was a normal passtime for him. Was it? Probably.

"Question 2! What is your favorite animal?"

This one was easy enough, and a small smile creeped onto my face as I answered. "Kittys, I have a few at home. They're the best little guys"

My heart ached at the thought of my fur babies. How long had they gone without food or water? Without being pat or doted on? Did they miss me? Had someone taken them in or were they sitting at the window waiting for my return?

Would I return?

Nikolai squealed again, his smile growing impossibly wider, the tips of his lips nearly touching his ears. "Cats are adorable! So fluffy and cute and squishy! I would just love to squeeze them until their little heads popped off!"

He suddenly scooted closer to me, the space between us slowly decreasing until our knees knocked together. He brought his fingers up to my cheeks, pinching them as if I was a baby. "Just like you! Squish, squish, squish! So damn cute"

Our noses bumped together as he leaned in closer, those cold eyes hyper-focused on my lips. I felt like I might hurl as his hands trailed down from my cheeks to my waist, his fingernails digging into the flimsy fabric of the nightgown he forced me into my first day here. This was wrong. So, so wrong.

"Please" I whined, tears threatening to spill at any second. "Please don't"

I had been so lucky the past 3 weeks with him not touching me, not with sexual intent anyway. No kissing, no touching, no... sex. Nothing. He would ask his stupid questions, force me to play his stupid games, and lay with me in bed at night, but that was it. But now, it seemed my luck had finally run out.

"Question 3!" Nikolais voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. "Now, dove, this is the last question, so make sure you pay extra attention, mkay?"

Not like I had a choice.

"Who do you love the most in this whole wide world?"

There was only answer to that question. Only one answer he wanted, anyway. I had learned the hard way what the consequences of getting it 'wrong' were. It was so degrading, humiliating, dehumanising even, the punishment he had given me for answering with the wrong person. I wasn't keen to go through that again.

"You, Nikolai. I love you the most" I sounded robotic, like a puppet. Which in reality, I kind of was. Just a little puppet in his clown show.

"Correct! 3 for 3, you're so smart! Now, for the reward"

And then, his chapped, cracked, messily painted lips were on mine. It wasn't recpirocated, it wasn't even pleasant. It was gross, slimy, wet like a fish. Maybe I could pretend I was making out with a fish. That would've been million times better than this bullshit.

I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated myself.

#oneshot #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd nikolai #Nikolai x reader #decay of angels #yandere #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere nikolai x reader #yandere x reader

[luvfy0dor]

“Your Handprint's on my Soul ♡⁠˖” BSD men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

warnings; established relationship (Fyodor only), first interactions, kisses, Dazais can be platonic or romantic

description; aus/tropes with BSD characters, inspired loosley by my old post about book types/tropes

A/n; CHAT IM SPEEDRUNNING THIS AS I WRITE THE A/N IM ONLY 2/3 OF THE WAY DONE W NIKOLAIS AND NO ONE ELSE IS DONE EXCWPT DAZAIS BULLET POINT AND ITS 2 HRS TILL POST TIME GOTTA LOCK IN ALSO TYSM FOR 700 💖💖💖

⑅ Osamu Dazai ⑅

• There was only one bed when Dazai appeared on your doorstep one evening. You don't know where he came from and he wouldn't tell you, but he would certainly tell you he wasn't letting you sleep anywhere but the bed, even if you wouldnt allow him to either.

ೃ⁀➷

'Knock knock knock' was the first thing you heard when you woke from your slumber in the middle of the night. You felt a little unsettled, but still tiptoed out of bed to the door, peering through the peephole only to see the big head of your coworker and friend on the other side of the door. You huffed and unlocked the deadbolt and opened up. "What are you doing here this late at night?" You asked, rubbing your right eye with the palm of your hand and yawning. "Oh, nothing much, just here for a stroll! It's been quite the long time no see, no?" He says, letting himself in and taking off his shoes at the door. "I saw you..." You peered over at the digital clock on your nightstand table down the hallway. "Like, 7 hours ago. And you texted me 3." You sigh and pull up your pajama pants. "Can I sleepover?" Your brows furrowed at his question.

"Can you sleepover- Osamu, we have work in the morning and- ugh, you know what, yeah, you're already here and it's raining, isn't it? How are you completely dry? I...I have so many questions that I'm not gonna ask right now. You can sleep in my bed, just don't touch anything else in my room, especially nothing in or on my nightstand, got it?" He shook his head and steered you towards your room with his hands on your shoulders. "Oh no, that'd be rude of me to take your bed! I'll take the couch." You shook your head and yanked him gently by the wrist. "No, you're taking the bed-" "why don't we both take the bed?" You were silent for a moment. "Yeah, sure, I don't want to keep going back and forth with this." You say with a sleepy shrug. He walked in front of you to your bedroom like he lived here on the regular and tossed his coat aside. You crawled back into the bed, pulling the covers up to your nose and feeling the bed dip beside you when Dazai crawled in too. He also took his fair share of the blankets, but you soon realized that Dazai was a blanket hog. "Oh my gosh, I'm gonna kick you if y'dont stop stealin' all the blanket!" You groan, yanking the soft material back towards you. "I am not stealing all the blanket, you're very dramatic." He says, rolling over and scooching closer so that he can still be completely covered by the blanket without yanking it back. Each time you moved, you bunched up more of the blanket and pulled it closer to yourself, leaving Dazai uncovered from his right foot to his knee. "And you call me a blanket hog." He starts to steal some of the comforter back, but you toss it over him and roll over to press your front against his, cuddling him. "You come to my house unannounced and steal my blankets..you can just be another source of heat if you wanna act like this." You sleepily say, eyes still closed as you slur out your words. His face was one of surprise for a moment before it melted into a smile. He put a hand on your head and pulled you closer. "And you know what? That's fine with me."

⑅ Chuuya Nakahara ⑅

• Chuuya reminds me of that one soulmate au where whenever you get marks on your skin, they appear on your soulmates too. Small scars, ink scribbles, and bruises would often appear on Chuuyas, but never because of his own doing.

ೃ⁀➷

Earlier in the morning, Chuuya had noticed a new doodle on his forearm, this time it was one of a cat. Usually it was partially colored-in hearts or imperfect stars, but he always found other drawings of yours to be more amusing. He was currently relaxing on his couch after a long day of work, shoes kicked off and pajamas put on. He'd gotten bored of whatever nonsense he was watching on the TV and decided to examine the kitty on his arm a little more before picking up a pen and deciding to draw one next to it with a little heart in between them. He rolled his eyes at himself, Chuuya Nakahara, the best martial artist in Yokohama and port mafia executive was doodling kitty cats and hearts on his own arm to appease some soulmate he didnt even know. He sighed and leaned back again. It didn't take long for you to notice and quickly scribble a reply that read "Wow, finally. [poorly drawn eye roll emoji] took you long enough to actually interact w/ me! Started to think I didn't have a soulmate." You felt giddy over the whole thing. Yeah, it was stupid, but he drew a cat in love with the cat that you drew! This was the interaction that you had been waiting for since middle school when all the other kids were writing back and forth with their soulmates so much that they'd make frequent trips to the bathroom to wash off old pen ink since they had no phones to text with yet. Teachers hated it, but everyone was already willing to put their education on the back burner for these, essentially, randos. Not Chuuya, though. Chuuya never liked writing on his skin, the way the ballpoint dragged across his pale flesh made him shiver, and so he never replied to you. His focus on other goals also contributed to that ignorance.

After many years though, he finally decided to entertain the whole idea. Chuuya didn't care about who his soulmate was, if he found someone that wasn't them and he loved them, then that was that. He didn't think the universe should decide the only person he could truly be with, so he dated on his own accord. He checked his arm for your reply as if he was checking a watch and he watched the ink appear on his arm, letter by letter and stroke by stroke. He smiled a little and grabbed his pen again. "I never really cared to, no offense." You scoffed when you read that, crossing out the no. "Full offense taken. Anyways, where you from?" He thought on whether or not he really wanted to tell you, so he decided to play it safe. "I'm not telling you that immediately, what are ya, crazy? How old are you?" The number 21 quickly appeared. "And your name?" You started writing out letters, but the ink quickly faded. Chuuya raised an eyebrow and went to write out a couple stray question marks, but the writing came back in a different color. The ink was blue this time. "Y/n." "Okay, y/n, not that you couldn't be lying, I live in Yokohama, Japan. Can I get your number to make this easier?" You smiled and fist pumped. "Yeah, it's ---/---/----." You received a message about four minutes later. "This is better, I have work in the morning and I don't want to have to scrub off any more ink than this tomorrow." You laid in bed, perpendicular to the mattress with your arms hanging off the edge of the bed as you typed out a reply. Your conversation went on for another hour getting to know eachother before he told you that it'd be best for him to go to bed. You wished him a goodnight and he did the same. You knew it'd take a while to build a strong friendship and maybe even relationship, but the thought made you excited nonetheless.

⑅ Fyodor Dostoevsky ⑅

• When I think of my own highschool academic greatness (I'm failing algebra2/trig) I think of Fyodors geniusness and how much highschool/college aus remind me of him. I don't know if he'd try to juggle a relationship and school, but if he did he'd help you be the best student possible while securing that valedictorian title for himself.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodors slim hand gripped his pencil loosely and moved it acrossed the paper he was given for a written assignment. His hair was pulled back in a super small pony tail and his eyes flickered over to the clock every now and again, waiting for the bell to ring with each passing second. He promised to meet you in the library during lunch to study for your AP Bio test you had coming up at the end of the week. He never minded helping you study, it'd help him retain the knowledge anyways. Finally, the familiar 'ding' sounded throughout the school and he packed up his stuff and left. He walked through the hallways and down the stairs to the library where you were already waiting for him. You smiled and waved him over, opening your school-loaned laptop. "Hey Fedya. I know we always spend lunches together but like, thank you for helping me, I'd be screwed otherwise." You say with a small laugh. He smiles and sits down next to you. "No problem, I don't mind, I did really well in that class anyways." He said while watching you type in your password and pull up an assignment. "Yeah, it's just about- oh! You kept the ponytail in?" You asked him with a smile. You had put his hair up that morning while waiting for the first bell. "Ofcourse I did. It keeps my neck cool." He tells you, tracing shapes on the small of your back with his thumb as he read over the assignment. "This is easy, Myshka, what's the trouble?" "I can't grasp ecology." You say, feeling yourself start to nod off. He raises an eyebrow and hums. "Well, do you sleep during your class like this?" He grins a little. You hum in denial and open your eyes again, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "No, I just stayed up late last night cramming and stuff..." You say, resting your head against your fist. "Well that's probably why you're having trouble, you work when you should be sleeping."

You knew he was right, you had other classes that you were doing work for and you had put AP Bio on the back burner because you, a) didn't want to do it, b) didn't think you could do it, and c) saw that you'd feel more successful seeing all those 0's in other classes turn into grades. "I know, I know." You groaned. "But maybe we can just get this one done quick since my laptop is already open." You reaffirm and lean your head on his shoulder. He nods and re-reads the question before asking you what answer you'd pick first and why. You told him and he told you if you were right or wrong, briefly explaining why you were incorrect if that was the case. You were only 5 questions in before Fyodor realized you weren't answering him. He looked to his side and realized you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He smiled and closed your laptop for you and let you sleep against him for a little while, knowing he'd finish it with you later, very determined to help you get all of your work finally done so you could relax. You clearly needed it.

⑅ Nikolai Gogol ⑅

• Nikolai would be a great, flirty barista, which is why I think coffee shop au would be perfect for him. His ability would be of great use winning over a couple cents in tips as well as your heart.

ೃ⁀➷

When you walked into your favorite, local coffee shop, the first thing you noticed was an unfamiliar face behind the counter. A tall man with long, braided white hair stood with a shaker in hand, clearly working hard to perfect s customers drink order. His eyes literally up when he saw you walking towards the counter, quickly pouring the liquid into a scribbled-on cup and capping it. "I'll be with you on one minute!" He says with a toothy grin, handing the drink to the lady waiting on the far side of the shop. He quickly returns to the cash register to take your order. "Hey! How can I help you?" He asks you and straightens out his apron. "Hi, uhm, can I have a (favorite drink), please?" He punched some stuff into the cash register and the visible screen in front of you showed you your total. "Anything else?" His eyes stared back into your own, making your heart race in your chest when you noticed just how beautiful he was. His differently pigmented eyes and sharp jawline along with the way his pointed teeth flashed when he smiled had your cheeks heating up pretty quickly. Not to mention his hair and physique.

As he was about to point out your staring with a cheeky expression, you muttered a 'yes.' He nodded. "Okay, your total is $4.20." You pulled out the first bill that wasn't a $1 from your wallet and handed it to him, Nikolais eyebrows raising when you put a $20 in his hands, but he stuck it in the register and counted up your change. "Okay, $15.80 is your change, can I get a name?" He asked you while giving you your change before grabbing a cup and sharpie. "Y/n." You quickly said, dropping all of the $15.20 in the top jar. "Ohhhh, wow! Y/n might as well take me on a date with a tip that big~!." He giggles and turns to make your drink for you while you wait with a warm face and stomach full of butterflies. "I don't think I'd mind taking you out on one." You say with a sense of confidence. "Hm, I might have to take you up on that." It's not long before he has your drink made, using a glowy portal to grab the sharpie on the counter relatively far away and scribbling something in your cup again. "Alright, here ya go! Have a good one!" He hands the drink to you, smiling a little bit when he feels your hand brush against as you take it from him. "Thank you, you too." You call back, turning around and walking away. Once you're out of the café, you rotate the cup 360° to figure out what he wrote on it, only to find ten digits acrossed the plastic. You smiled and your heartbeat picks up ten fold. You make sure to take a picture of it in a good lighting to ensure the visibility of all of the numbers, you might just have to arrange a date with him now.

A/n; AHHHHHHHHHHHH next time event post <3

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x you #bungou stray dogs nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara

[susandsnell]

@forthegothicheroine​ - the ask got deleted in a wild mishap, but here are the Which books I’d recommend to various Batman Villains! (thank you so much for this btw -- absolutely juicy question and I had a thrill imagining any scenario where I’d be in such a position as to be recommending them things! 

Harley Quinn - Fingersmith by Sarah Waters, naturally! Things not appearing what they seem, the plot twists, the self-reclamation, the romance, overcoming abuse - I think she’d really enjoy it! Conversely, I think Zola’s Thérèse Raquin would speak to her and maybe help her process some things regarding her bad patterns in criminal relationships. 

Poison Ivy - Gotta keep with the plants theme and give her The Weeds by Katy Simpson Smith, the tale of two women botanists from two different time periods whose entries framed around each type of plant and its uses explores a different theme/moment in their lives, usually relating to gendered violence and resilience to such. It’s even got a sapphic subplot, so really it’s made for her. Rumour has it that the Matt Reeves Batverse for her is planned to be inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Rappacini’s Daughter, which has me insanely excited -- so I’d throw that on the list as well. To switch gears from just the plants, I think that she’d really enjoy the sheer depth of devotion between women on display in My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix. 

Riddler - I feel like any mystery novel you give the guy is going to end in “I simply would have _____, RIP to [protagonist’s/antagonist’s name] But I, Edward Nygma/Nigma/Nashton Am Different”. Guy probably went into a full rage about how stupidly Franklin Clarke from The ABC Murders got caught after all the trouble he took with the puzzle-clues. after so I think I’d give him Walter Tevis’ The Queen’s Gambit since a lot of iterations show him having a fondness for chess (and the genuine skill in the writing), and Beth’s arc with difficult beginnings, addiction struggles, resilience and alienation would resonate with him if he ever would admit to it. I also think Gogol would suit him well; I see him enjoying the humour in short works like The Nose, but Dead Souls’ protagonist really suits him as a trickster conman who entertains the possibility of doing better.

Scarecrow - Oh, this is the big one. Hardest one on the list, because Crane’s probably the best-read on the list considering his original motive of wanting to heist money to fund getting books, and his Year One backstory working this into his horrific childhood probably cemented this, so odds are he’s read most of them already, especially the classics! But I did like the suggestion in your fic The Most Poetical Topic he hasn’t read Stephen King’s Carrie, since that’s the shoo-in. I do think he’d also get a kick out of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s works for modern gothics - Mexican Gothic and the use of the spores is up his alley in particular! Lindqvist‘s Let the Right One In with the cute little murder couple of vampire kids who absolutely obliterate bullies and find connection in being outsiders is probably his wish fulfilment jam, let’s be real. And because I’m me, I’d also insist on him reading The Moth Diaries by Rachel Klein because it’s essential reading imo and the psychological horror “is there a vampire or is it untreated grief and mental illness” plotline would tickle him. 

Two-Face - Handing him a copy of Phantom of the Opera is probably a great way to get him to flip the coin on whether he’s shooting you or drowning you, so I’d say I’d get Harvey some more legal-related literature. He’s probably a fan of Atticus Finch, so hand him a better John Grisham, a good Perry Mason tale, or Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities especially. And of course, Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo. We’re counting on you, Harv!!! 

Penguin - Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind was all but made for Oswald, especially the more grotesque iterations. It practically feels like proto-Burton!Oswald, although most iterations could probably get a lot out of the themes of abandonment and difficulty, the grotesque, and the ebb and flow of affections and power depending on one’s usefulness. The protagonist is even named after an animal to signify unwantedness!! But privately, I think Oswald likes his cozy mysteries too. 

Mr. Freeze - The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery -- really, hear me out, because while the book is only directly about grief and a new lease on life at the end, there’s the grief throughout for a life not lived, and I think he’d enjoy its little quotidian charms and the way it speaks of finding appreciation while you’re here. Otherwise, I’d say Terry Pratchett’s Nation, which is one of the other most immensely powerful explorations of grief. It also involves quite a few scientists for his bias!! 

Mad Hatter - Lewis Carroll’s works are his bread and butter, but I’d be very curious to see his thoughts on The Screwtape Letters. Otherwise I think I’d have to hand him a copy of The Stepford Wives with a sticky-note foreword of: “THIS IS A CAUTIONARY TALE, NOT AN INSTRUCTION MANUAL”. 

#jonathan crane #edward nygma #harley quinn #harvey dent #bat-tag #ask night! #thanks so much for this!!!

[emeow-blog]

Fyolai ~ Shortfic + oneshot "I think I can love you"

This is the first writing thing I have ever posted here ._.

im sorry i wrote this in 30 mins it makes absolutely no sense UwU

No NSFW (Sadge /j) BUT some TWs apply: Mentions of past trauma, mentions of gore, mentions of death.

WC: 1833 (Ik its short im sorrryyyyyyy)

THERE WILL BE SOME RUSSIAN IN THIS STORY BC I LITERALLY CAN'T WRITE FYOLAI W/ OUT USING MY LANGUAGE (I HC them using both formal and familiar "you" so shhhhhhh) Just trust that it isn't that important to the story translate it if u want~

"I think I can love you."

~

‘Love’ was a word that Fyodor didn’t understand. It was overused. The Greeks had some greater idea of love, with words for different types. As for now, present day, love could be used for anything from appreciation, to desire, to lust, to joy. Love, the emotion, was perhaps the hardest to understand. Fyodor had never felt love for another person. His mother always told him how much ‘love’ she felt for his father. He heard teenagers talking about loving this boy, or this girl. Love was not an emotion he was capable of feeling. 

It had been this way for decades. No matter how many people claimed to love him, he turned them all away. Looking back, there was one person he had accepted into his life. 

One person who he allowed himself to befriend.

But that wasn’t love. That was tolerance.

Loving Nikolai Gogol was not a possibility in the slightest.

“Dos-kunnnnnnn~” Nikolai whined over his shoulder. “Stop pacing!”

“Вы сука- quiet, Nikolai.” Fyodor waved the man’s words away. “I’m thinking.”

“But it’s midnight!”

“And this is exactly why I was hesitant to share a room with you.”

Second of course is that he would likely kill me in my sleep…

Death at least seemed like an upgrade from life. Nikolai had expressed his urge to kill Fyodor before. It wouldn’t be long before he attempted again.

“Fine then. I’ll sing myself to sleep~”

“No-”

‘Спи, младенец мой прекрасный,

Баюшки-баю.

Тихо смотрит месяц ясный

В колыбель твою.

Стану сказывать я сказки,

Песенку спою;

Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки,

Баюшки-баю.’

“Stop it.”

Nikolai continued his odd rendition of Cossack.

По камням струится Терек,

Плещет мутный вал;

Злой чечен ползет на берег,

Точит свой кинжал;

Но отец твой старый воин,

Закален в бою:

Спи, малютка, будь спокоен,

Баюшки-баю~

He ended his song on a long note, slightly changing the meaning of the sound. Nikolai’s voice wasn’t exactly professional, but it was soothing. More soothing than Fyodor would have liked it to be.

The Cossack was one of the only memories from his childhood. Its notes were seared into his brain, along with the voice of his mother singing it every night. She would say, ‘Спи, федецчка, будь спокоен, Баюшки-баю.’ for the last line, a smile on her face.

That smile was now gone. 

The new grin he saw every day belonged to a man. A man dressed in white and black with multicolored eyes.

“Dos-kunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn~ come to bed nowwww~”

“Not after that, clown.”

“Come onnnn, you know you love me~”

For some reason, the joke broke his stoic demeanor.

“Like I could ever love someone, let alone you!”

The night was spent restless, memories of that desecrated church, the worshippers coughing up blood, Fyodor standing at the altar with a face lacking emotion. They deserved to die, and yet he still had horrific dreams about it every night. Dreams where Nikolai was in the crowd, where the blood covering his well-worn ushanka was not his, but that of the boy in white. 

In these dreams, Nikolai was the only person left standing, crimson dripping from his nose, mouth, and eyes. He would smile, and say something. The words were always unintelligible, his throat filling with blood. 

Crime and Punishment didn’t only affect the criminal like its name suggested. Anybody who ingested the poison flowing through the veins of Fyodor Dostoyevsky could be brought down with a wave of a hand. Including the people he cared for. 

Today, the dreams changed.

He sat in the first pew, carefully counting and recounting the 33 buttons on the Priest’s coat. Likely made of pure gold. The eyes of the worshippers around him were glazed over, their minds lost and withered to a spell. Everything was methodical and repeated. 

Like usual, Fyodor opened the bible in front of him to recite along with the Priest. 

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

The same line. Romans 8:38-39. At the same time as usual, Holy Communion was announced. Fyodor stood up and volunteered to help. A single drop of his blood was added to the wine chalice. The wine and bread was passed around.

Once the Priest drank, Fyodor activated his ability, standing behind the altar. A shriek rang out from the back pew, and people began to clutch their throats as blood poured from their lips. The man beside him coughed up the foul red liquid. The plan had succeeded, yet Fyodor felt no joy. There was no happiness or sadness from killing. It was simply meant to be.

A boy stumbled out from the dark space behind the pews. A boy dressed in white, with multicolored eyes. Blood dripped from his face and onto the floor. 

“Nikolai?” Fyodor asked, horror seeping into his expression.

Nikolai smiled, crimson welling up like tears. Or maybe they were tears, stained red. They ran down his cheeks from his eyes. He appeared to be crying.

“What did you do? Did you take the poison?” The dark haired boy ran down the steps, clutching his wooden cross. 

Nikolai nodded. 

“No.” Fyodor grabbed Nikolai’s hands, shaking them, “You didn’t.”

Nikolai smiled again. But this time, instead of failing to speak his final words, they escaped from his throat.

“I love you Fedya. I always will.”

Fyodor awoke to moonlight streaming across the floor upon which he laid. He had refused to share the only bed in the room with Nikolai after his outburst. Why the inn couldn’t supply them with a double room, he didn’t know. His anger was silly. The word love shouldn’t trigger such a reaction out of a grown man. It shouldn’t be a product of his nightmares. 

And yet here he was, trembling from a dream already fading away. The voice of child-Nikolai echoing in his ears. 

I love you Fedya, I always will.

How tempted he was to say he loved him back. A temptation that he had never felt an inkling of before. Did the dream change because of what Nikolai had said just before he fell asleep? No. He wasn’t able to love. He wasn’t able to love Nikolai, and he never would. His longing was an illusion. An illusion where the only cure was denial. 

Denial led to spending the rest of the night lying awake on the floor until the first light. His eyes closed, the glow from the sun placating his nightmares.

“Dos-kun? Wake up~ you’re shivering.”

Nikolai hovered over Fyodor’s half-conscious form, waving his hand in front of his eyes.

“Are you sick?” He pressed his fingers to the man’s forehead, murmuring at the heat spreading into the tips, through his gloves. “Seems so.”

“Nnnnhh… stop…” Fyodor whispered. He didn’t get sick, yet it was hard to deny the lethargy that spread through his joints as he lay on the floor. “I’m not sick… Nikolai-”

“Shhhhh.” The white clothed man swiped the pad of his thumb across the other’s lips, effectively silencing the feeble protests. “Let me care for you.” 

Nikolai was acting rather differently from usual, but Fyodor was much too exhausted to question it. Placing a damp cloth on his forehead after transporting him to the single bed, Nikolai rested his hand on the other’s. 

Warm and cold, yin and yang. Their hands fit like they were made for eachother. And as Fyodor drifted in and out of sleep, his grip on the other became tighter. 

“Don’t let go of me.”

Nikolai’s face contorted in surprise, but he sat back down nevertheless. Fyodor was his reason for living, and making him feel comforted and happy was his ultimate goal. The only thing left was to get Fyodor to tell him he loved him. He must love him. He had to. Nikolai loved him, so why wouldn’t Fyodor love him back? Wasn’t that how it worked? It seemed that way on the television. If the main female loved the main male, then he loved her back automatically. Female and male…

Fyodor slept through the day, mumbling odd prayers and lines from the bible in his delirium. Nikolai couldn’t pick out many words, as he seemed to be reverting back to his northern Russian dialect, softer spoken.

Until he recognized one:

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Followed by a name:

“Don’t die, Kolya”

No. Fyodor claimed he had forgotten that. Claimed he had left the event in the past. He gripped the sick man’s hand tighter, willing their skin to meld together, to switch bodies and end his suffering. Nikolai knew the nightmares personally. If Fyodor, his Fedya, was still experiencing them now, how long had they been plaguing him?

“Fedya, wake up” The man tried to shake the other awake. “Please wake up. Nothing will hurt you. I’m here.”

No response.

“Please. I promise I'm here. I’m not dead.”

One word left Fyodor’s lips, “...Что?”

The language of their childhood that they rarely spoke in conversation anymore. They used it to talk in secret, not uttering more than a few words. Occasionally to annoy the other (Nikolai’s singing). But never personally, too many memories surfaced.

The song.

It elicited a reaction before, but would it work again?

“Я здесь, Федя. Я здесь”

‘Спи, младенец мой прекрасный,

Баюшки-баю.

Тихо смотрит месяц ясный

В колыбель твою.

Стану сказывать я сказки,

Песенку спою;

Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки,

Баюшки-баю.’

His voice broke slightly when he saw Fyodor’s eyes flutter.

По камням струится Терек,

Плещет мутный вал;

Злой чечен ползет на берег,

Точит свой кинжал;

Но отец твой старый воин,

Закален в бою:

“Колыа?” Fyodor whispered.

Finally:

Спи, малютка, будь спокоен,

Баюшки-баю~

Nikolai smiled genuinely at the sick man in his lap, “Все кончено. Я здесь. И я-”

“Вы что?”

“Мне так жаль. Я чертовски сильно люблю тебя, и мне так жаль, что я заставил тебя это сделать. Я причинил тебе боль и-”

“Вы любите меня?”

Oh fuck. He did not mean to say that, “...Да.”

“Oh god.” Back to English.

“What?”

“Kolya. I think I love you too. I think I can love you.” He hiccupped as a sob broke from his throat, “Don’t leave me, I don’t want you to die.”

Nikolai didn’t know whether this was delusion from illness or serious, but he allowed himself to hope. A single tear escaped his eyelashes and fell onto Fyodor’s chest, right on top of his heart.

“Are you serious?”

“... Yes. Fuck, I’m not sick.” tears continued to flow down his cheeks.

Nikolai cried too, “You are.”

“Don’t leave me again… please”

“I won’t. Never again.”

#writing #fanfic #fyolai #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai #bungo stray dogs #gay #writing xx

[kikizoshi]

Hello! I've recently re-read your discussion about BSD writing. I love how you put it into the perspective of characters' needs behind their philosophies. And how Kafka rarely deliberates on them. At this point 70% of my enjoyment from bsd comes from fan- analyses/headcanons/artworks, etc. your blog is one of my main "suppliers". What in your opinion would be Gogol's need behind his freedom? Is it compulsion to be in control, to be safe/numb, not to be affected by anything? Is it fear?

Aha. Haha. Yeah. Uh... Idk.

I've been asking myself this for years. Like half a decade at this point. And all I have to show for it is literally nothing (unless you count the character I made him into for my own stories, but that's not canon Nikolai so not really relevant here). I genuinely can't figure out if I'm blind, if his need isn't communicated or is intentionally hidden, or if there just isn't one. I would assume that it's brought on by something traumatic, has to do with his whole eye scar mask thing, vaguely related to Gogol's stories, but honestly who knows? Fyodor's immortal. Anything's possible. Maybe Nikolai's secretly been his own nose this whole time, who, once popped free of his master, found himself thrust into sudden consciousness, and, after an affable afternoon of gay gallivanting, soon realised his worth as naught more than a satirical device, and is now fighting desperately against the Writer themselves for his own agency and self-actualisation.

Ah, I will say though, it's probably something like "Nikolai caught an obsession." Nikolai himself says that he could've been happy, but he wanted freedom more. So whatever his need it, it isn't "to escape from unhappiness/pain." You'd still have to question what Nikolai's definition of happiness is, but it's worth keeping in mind.

#sorry for no serious answer the genuine truth is that I have no idea #and I'm just kind done trying to figure it out #I'm still interested in the answer but have accepted that I probably won't find it #I have my truth for my version of Nikolai and that satisfies me #also I'm truly honoured to be one of your 'main suppliers' of bsd-based serotonin #and glad you got something out of that discussion because *hoo boy* am I disappointed with myself in that one #bsd #bsd nikolai #bsd analysis

[st-louis]

tagged by @goodsticklehky and @arsi-lehkonen to post five cool or fun facts about myself... as always i hate hate hate singling people out lol so please do this if you want to.

i once made it to the junior olympic final qualifiers for saber fencing. still don’t know how i got there. came in dead last lmao (and knew i was in trouble when the other fencers had flown in, like, their russian coaches and i was there with my kid brother)

i’ve been writing pretty much my whole life but i will officially be a published author in a little over a month

i’ve never broken a bone but the closest i ever came was getting kicked in the nose by a crowd surfer at a gogol bordello concert in college. really did think for a second my nose had broken. had to go home on the metro with a RIDICULOUSLY violent looking nosebleed. good times. maybe i could have gone to the bathroom and cleaned up but also my brain could handle the filth of a pit but NOT bar and venue bathrooms

i used to regularly get in trouble in elementary school for refusing to sing christmas carols or anything i deemed too christian (i am jewish), i would never make a fuss, just not participate. but the choir teachers etc could not resist calling me out in front of the whole class when they noticed i wasn’t singing. several times, it escalated to the point that i had to get my rabbi involved. my mom likes to joke that even at seven i was a lawyer

i married into an indian family and one of the best moments for me as someone who has taught themselves to cook and prides themselves on doing it well my in-laws tried this very specific comfort food dish (from their region) that i had been fine-tuning and liked it so much they both took seconds

#there's probably more interesting facts but those are the ones that came to mind #i was a fucking mess in hs/college

[anonymousewrites]

There's a Beauty; There's a Beast Chapter One

Chapter One: Oddities of (Y/N)

            A rooster crowed, awakening the small French village. From a small house on the edge emerged (Y/N). Watching as the sky lightened, she sang as she descended the front steps of her cottage and passed through the garden.

(Y/N) “Little town, it’s a quiet village, Ev’ry day, like the one before, Little town, full of little people, Waking up to say…” (Villagers) “Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!”

            As (Y/N) made her way through town, she greeted each villager kindly, even if it was not reciprocated.

(Y/N) “There goes the baker with his tray like always, The same old bread and rolls to sell.”

            Handing some money to the man, she bought a loaf and placed it in her apron.

(Y/N) “Every morning just the same, Since the morning that we came, To this poor provincial town.”

            “Good morning, (Y/N),” said a man.

            “Good morning, Monsieur Melville! Have you lost something again?” replied (Y/N).

            Melville frowned. “I believe I have. The problem is I can’t remember what.” He sighed. “Oh, well. I’m sure it will come to me. Where are you off to?”

            (Y/N) smiled, her (E/C) eyes alighting with joy. “To return this book to Monsieur Poe. It’s about to lovers in fair Verona.” As she turned and continued on her way to Edgar Allan Poe’s small library, she passed the schoolhouse where the boys were entering for lessons.

(Schoolboys) “Look there she goes, that girl is strange no question.” (Headmaster Hawthorne) “Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?”

            Ignoring the unkind words, the attractive woman simply enjoyed the fresh air as she hopped across stones to avoid falling into a stream.

(Villagers) “Never part of any crowd, ‘Cause her heads stuck on some cloud, No denying she’s a funny one that (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) hustled through town, trying to be as quick as possible to avoid the villagers.

(Various Villagers) “Bonjour, good day, how is your family? Bonjour, good day, how is your wife? I need, six eggs, That’s too expensive!” (Y/N) “There must be more than this provincial life.”

            Finally, she entered the library of Monsieur Poe. He was sitting at his desk, writing his latest mystery with Karl sitting across his shoulders. Hearing (Y/n) enter, he looked up.

            “Ah, h-hello, you finished the b-book?” asked Poe uncertainly, pulling his book to his chest uncertainly.

            (Y/N) smiled, used to his anxious ways. “Yes, have you any new ones to read?”

            “No, my mystery is not perfected yet! You must read an old one for now,” he hurriedly said, not wanting her to read an unfinished story where they might guess to killer.

            “All right.” (Y/N) picked up her favorite book. Although not written by Poe, it was a lovely story filled with romance and adventure. As she was heading out the door, (Y/N) turned back to the write and remarked, “Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big.”

            Poe brightened at the compliment and began writing quickly, wanting to complete his book now that someone was excited for it. (Y/N) left, returning to the bustle of the village, effortlessly weaving through people even as she read the novel in their hands.

(Villagers) “Look there she goes, That girl is so peculiar, I wonder if she’s feeling well, With a dreamy, far-off look, And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is (Y/N).”

            As (Y/N) continued reading, she arrived at a particularly enjoyable passage.

(Y/N) “Oh! Isn’t this amazing! It’s my favorite part because you’ll see, Here’s where she meets Prince Charming, But she won’t discover that its him, ‘Til chapter three!”

            (Y/N) passed by a salon where two young men were looking at items in a shop.

(Margaret) “Now it’s no wonder that her name means ‘beauty,’ Her looks have got no parallel.” (Gogol and Ivan) “But behind that fair façade, I’m afraid she’s rather odd!” (Margaret) “Very different from the rest of us.” (Gogol and Ivan) “She’s nothing like the rest of us!” (Margaret, Gogol, and Ivan) “Yes, different from the rest of us is (Y/N)!”

            As (Y/N) stopped to play with a puppy, two men watched her from horseback up on a hill overlooking the village. One gazed through a jet-black spyglass that matched his shoulder length hair while the other simply rode next to him.

            “Look at her, Sigma.” The raven-haired man smirked, his eyes following (Y/N) like a predator gazes at prey. “I am determined to have her.” He lowered the spyglass, revealing deadly, red-violet eyes, and passed it to Sigma, his associate. “She is the only pure person left in this sinful land. She is an angel, and I shall not let anyone taint her.”

            “Ah, yes, but she doesn’t seem to like you, Fyodor,” Sigma said uncertainly, not wanting to make Fyodor too upset.

            Fyodor merely smirked, a sinister air settling over him not unlike the way a hunter pauses right before pouncing. “No obstacle can remain in my way for long. I always obtain what I desire, and I desire (Y/N).”

            The pair rode into town, people moving out of the way in order to let them through.

(Fyodor) “Right from the moment I met her, saw her, I said she’s angelic, and I fell, Here in town its only her, Who’s pure enough for me, So, I’m making plans to woo and marry (Y/N).”

            They ride pass the salon where the Ivan and Gogol see Fyodor and excitedly head outside to try and gain his attention.

(Ivan and Gogol) “Look, there he goes, Isn’t he dreamy? Monsieur Dostoevsky, Oh, he’s so cute! Be still, my heart, it’s hardly beating, He’s such a tall, dark, strong, and handsome brute!”

            The two men jumped back as the horses kicked mud towards. Fyodor ignored their attempts to get him to recognize them. Sigma simply glanced back and sighed.

            “It’s never going to happen,” he said, before quickly following after Fyodor.

            Fyodor walked past the botanists and bought some flowers as he glimpsed (Y/N). As they continue on their way, Fyodor hurried to push his way through to them.

(Various Villagers) “Bonjour, Pardon, Good day, Mais, oui, You call this bacon, What lovely flowers, Some cheese, Ten yards, One pound.” (Fyodor) “Excuse me.” (Villager) “I’ll get the knife.” (Fyodor) “Please let me through!” (Various Villagers) “This bread, Those fish, It’s stale, They smell, Madame’s mistaken, Well, maybe so.” (Y/N) “There must be more than this provincial life!” (Fyodor) “Just watch, I’m going to make her my wife!” (Villagers) “Look there she goes, She is so strange but special, A most peculiar girl, perhaps unwell, It’s a pity and a sin, She doesn’t quite fit in, But she really is a funny one, A beauty but a funny one, She really is a funny one, That (Y/N)!”

            Finally, Fyodor pushed to the front and caught up to the girl he’d been chasing. “Good morning, (Y/N),” he said, “How lovely to see you.”

            “Fyodor,” the (H/C)-haired beauty replied politely.

            With a charming smile that most of the singles in the village would have fallen for, Fyodor handed her the flowers he had bought. “For your dinner table. Shall I join you this evening?”

            Uncomfortable with the attention she was receiving, (Y/N) answered awkwardly, “Sorry, not this evening.”

            Hoping to catch her in a corner, Fyodor said, “Oh? Do you already have plans?” He knew full well she did not. The hunter was hoping to trap his prey.

            “Well, my father and I were planning on having a family dinner,” replied (Y/N), thinking quickly. Before Fyodor could get another word in, she walked off.

            “Moving on?” said Sigma, approaching his associate.

            Fyodor looked over at him briefly, the malice and danger in his eyes enough to quiet Sigma in a moment. “My angel is intelligent and tricky. I would not expect anything less from her. It will just make it all the more satisfying once she is mine.”

            Meanwhile, (Y/N) had finally made it home where her father was mending a music box. It depicted him and his wife back in their old home in Paris before he and his child had moved. Although an intelligent and polite man, Fukuzawa was often thought of as a snob at times by the rest of the village because he came from the city instead of growing up in the country.

(Fukuzawa) “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold on to, Never easy, but we try, Sometimes our happiness is captured, Somehow a time and place stand still, Love lives on inside our hearts, And always will.”

            Looking up, he saw his daughter enter. “Ah, hello, (Y/N). Would you please grab the—” He was cut off when she handed him the instrument he needed to tweak the music box. “Thank you. And—.” Once again, (Y/N) held up a gear. “No—, well, that would work, thank you.”

            As (Y/N) began to clear up some of the mess of tools and pieces scattered about the table, she paused. Frowning in a questioning manner, she asked, “Father, am I strange?”

            “Strange? Why do you believe that?”

            “People talk.” (Y/N) shrugged.

            Fukuzawa sighed. He was disappointed that his daughter had to deal with these comments. “This a small village, unfortunately full of small-minded people. However, it is safe.” Seeing (Y/N)’s face fall, he continued. “In Paris, I knew a woman like yourself. People thought she was different from them and mocked her. Until, one day, they found they wanted to be just like her. It will work out, (Y/N).”

            She smiled, knowing it was a story of her mother. She could barely remember her, but understanding parts of her made (Y/N) feel not alone in her own strangness. Because of her oddities, (Y/N) had never managed to grow truly close with any of the village children, even when growing up. Feeling a sense of familiarity with her mother her extremely important. It helped ease the feeling of loneliness that sometimes descended on her after hearing townsfolks’ comments. “Can you tell me more about her?.” (Y/N) deeply desired to know more about her mother but could tell it was a tough subject for her father.

            Fukuzawa paused to think for a moment. “Your mother was…fearless. Fearless.”

            Smiling, (Y/N) continued helping him pack up so he was ready to go to market. Together, the father and child brought the boxes to the cart hitched to Philip, their horse. As Fukazawa mounted the steed, he took his daughter’ss hand.

            “What would you like from the market?”

            “A rose,” replied the (H/C-nette), “Like the one in mother’s painting.”

            Fukuzawa smiled fondly. “Every year is the same request.”

            “And every year you fulfill it,” countered (Y/N).

            “Of course.” Turning to the horse, Fukuzawa flicked the reigns as (Y/N) waved goodbye.

            (Y/N) then got to work on doing the laundry. She headed down to the washing station where few women were still working. Instead of scrubbing each piece individually, she had put soap shavings into the clothing which was then piled into a barrel pulled around by a horse. Everything then tumbled together to clean the clothes while (Y/N) had time to read. A young girl, curious and innocent, came up to her.

            “What are you doing?” asked the girl shyly, watching (Y/N)’s strange contraption go around.

            Smiling at her, the bookworm answered, “The laundry.” Seeing the girl look curiously glance at her book, (Y/N) gestured for her to come over. The girl excitedly sat down next to them. (Y/N) began slowly going through sounds with the girl, teaching her to read.

            Headmaster Hawthorne passed by and scoffed at the sight. “What on Earth are you doing? Teaching another girl to read? Isn’t one enough?”

            Other people’s attention was piqued, and the young men began to get a mean idea into their head. They grabbed the barrel full of (Y/N)’s clothing and dragged it away from the water. (Y/N) shot up and cried for them to stop, but they went ahead and dumped the clothing out onto the road. The villagers laughed cruelly as (Y/n) hurried to gather the clothing. Monsieur Poe was luckily there to assist her.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t arrive early enough to help,” said Poe quietly.

            (Y/n) shook their head. “It’s not your fault. They would have continued.” She finished gathering her stuff and quickly headed away from the crowd that had gathered.

            While the ordeal had been going on, Sigma had noticed and quickly left to alert Fyodor. The man in question was sitting in a café and sipping coffee when his servant associate approached him.

            Bowing respectfully, Sigma said, “There is a certain angel in need of rescue, sir.”

            “Wonderful,” commented Fyodor, smirking, mind already whirring with plans and strategies for getting what he desired. Calculating that (Y/N) would already be heading home, Fyodor went straight there.

            Upon seeing Fyodor, (Y/N) smiled, trying to do a simple greeting before getting inside, but alas, she had no luck.

            “I heard you had trouble with the headmaster.” Fyodor placed his hand on the (Y/N)’s garden gate, keeping her from entering. “He never liked me either. I was too clever for him.” (Y/N) pushed by him, too tired to deal with him. Frowning in annoyance at not being acknowledged, the raven-haired demon of a man followed them in. “Would you like a word of advice? These villagers will never trust the change one woman is trying to bring.”

            “All I wanted was to teach a child to read!” cried (Y/N). She felt humiliated, angry, and in no mood to deal with Fyodor’s advances.

            “And you could. You need to ally yourself with someone powerful for them to listen to you.” Fyodor moved closer, “I could bring you that. Marry me and people would listen to you.”

            “I’m not interested in marriage!” (Y/N) was disgusted. Although it was an undeniable fact that Fyodor was handsome, intelligent, and powerful, three qualities which many of the singles of the town found incredibly attractive, (Y/N) didn’t want him for a husband.

            Fyodor scoffed, gesturing around him to the village surrounding them. “Look around you. People who don’t get married are shunned. You already have experience with that. I can make all that go away.” He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek gently. “You could have everything you desire: money, revenge on those moronic villagers who wronged you, the jealousy of all others for being mine, whatever you want could be yours.”

            “I may be an outcast, but I have more self-respect than to becomes your trophy,” snapped (Y/N). She stormed past Fyodor and entered her house, slamming the door before he could get another word in.

            Fyodor turned and left. Most people would be upset at being so openly rejected, but he understood that Plan A hardly even works out as planned. Knowing that (Y/N) wasn’t tempted by power made her purer and more alluring to Fyodor. Replaying the conversation over in his head, he made note of what angered (Y/N) the most and began plotting his next attempt to seduce her to his side. This was a minor setback. After all, nothing ever stopped him from winning in the end. Nothing ever would.

            (Y/N) watched in disgust as he walked away with a cunning smirk. The (H/C-nette) was appalled at the idea of being his spouse.

(Y/N) “Can you imagine? Me, the spouse of that evil, villainous… Fyodor’s trophy, can’t you just see it? Fyodor’s trophy, his little wife? Ugh! No, sir, not me, I guarantee it, I want much more of this provincial life.”

            She gazed out her window at the rolling hills and vast forest, longing to explore and learn of all the places they’d read of.

(Y/N) “I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can tell, And for once it might be grand, To have someone understand, I want so much more than they’ve got planned…”

            Sighing in defeat since her dream was most likely a hopeless one, she closed the shutters and prepared for bed as night fell. I hope Father is doing well, she thought. (Y/N) always worried for Fukuzawa when he was gone.

l

            Fukuzawa frowned as he continued through the woods. It was dark out, a storm was beginning to rage, and he had finally realized he did not recognize the woods he was in. Being lost in unfamiliar territory was dangerous, even for a man as calm and collected as Fukuzawa. When he came to a fork in the rode, he had a feeling he needed to go left, but unfortunately a tree had been struck down and lay burning. The silver-haired man had no choice but to go right, deeper into unknown land. He held the Philip’s reigns tighter as snow began to fall.

            Snow, he thought, in June…A strange occurrence indeed.

He paused when he heard a twig snap. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Whatever was out there was circling him. His eyes narrowed as wolves began to move onto the snowy road. One sprang at him but he beat it away with a cane he carrier with him. To avoid further conflict, he snapped the reigns, prompting Philip to race down the path. Unfortuntaley, his cart crashed. The wolves howled and ran after him. Deftly avoiding their attacks, he mounted Philip and spurred him on. Fukuzawa could not afford to pay attention to where Philip went; he was too busy watching for sneak attacks. When he glanced forward again, he saw an old castle looming ahead.

            If I can make it through this gate, it is unlikely that the wolves will follow. And then I can regroup and make it back to my dear (Y/N).

With the wolves snapping at him, Fukuzawa pushed through them and into the courtyard, leaving the wolves to growl and pant at the gates. Getting off his horse, Fukuzawa led to him to the water trough and hay bales.

            “Thank you, Philip. There seems to be everything you need here. Rest, I will speak to our unknowing host.” Giving the horse an affectionate pat on the head, the silver-haired man walked up the grand staircase. Hopefully my host is not too alarmed at such a late-night guest. I will make it known that I mean no harm to the first servant I see. Being surrounded by such dangerous woods. Surely, they would understand a traveler’s plight. Fukuzawa knocked on the doors, and they swung open. “Hello, I did not mean to intrude.” He stopped, seeing no one was there. How did the door open? Wary, he continued inward, calling out so someone would hopefully hear him. “Hello?” The sound echoed around him in the dark entry hall. “I was attacked by wolves. I’m seeking shelter from the storm.” Not even a whisper responded. No flicker of movement. Nothing to suggest people lived there. “Is anybody here?” He walked to a table and picked up the candelabra for more light. The candelabra had interested grooves and designs etched into the silver surface. It almost resembled a face. Lovely work. I must take note of such fine work next time I’m sculpting. Fukuzawa began to walk through the rooms. Occasionally he thought he saw a slight movement, but when he turned to investigate, not a soul was to be seen. He decided to try to catch what was possibly moving. He stood very still, and once he saw a tiny movement, he whirled around. The lighted candelabra went out from the sudden movement. Cursing in frustration from the darkness, he rummaged in his pockets for matches. Damn, they must have fallen out when the cart crashed.

            “Don’t worry sir! I can get it for you,” said a bright voice that seemed to come from right in front of him. Suddenly, the candelabra lit up again, revealing that the face etched in the metal was moving.

            Fukuzawa froze before collecting himself. “Ah…thank you,” he said slowly. This place is cursed! he realized in alarm. He set the living candelabra down upon a nearby table which held a clock before rushing to the door and bolting down towards Philip.

            “Tch, look what you did.” The dark wooded clock beside the candelabra commented. “Always messing everything up. It’s a miracle Dazai has kept you around this long, Atsushi. He should have broken you during one of his fits already, useless as you are”

            “I thought I was helping, Akutagawa!” said Atsushi, the candelabra, mournfully. “I never meant to scare him…”

            Outside, Fukuzawa was hurriedly mounting Philip in order to escape. Although the candelabra had seemed polite, red flags were going up in the silver-haired man’s mind. Objects becoming alive often meant curses were around, and curses were never something to mess with. As he galloped towards the gates to leave, he saw a gazebo with roses growing over it. It will only take a moment, and I promised (Y/N) one. He descended from his mount and walked into the gazebo. Fukuzawa walked into the gazebo, planning on grabbing a rose than quickly departing. He reached up once he saw a beautiful, blooming rose that he thought (Y/N) would appreciate. He plucked, not knowing it would seal his fate. A dark shadow dropped from the ceiling of the gazebo behind Fukuzawa. Philip instantly sprinted away, leaving his master. He froze, unable to move. He heard its growl from behind him as it closed in on him. (Y/N)…

#there's a will; there's a way #beauty and the beast #bsd x reader #dazai bsd #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #disney au #bsd au #bsd fic #bsd fanfic #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor

[popopretty]

BSD Chapter 89.5

I posted yesterday that the digital version will be delayed until January 8th (Japan time) but I just couldn’t wait so I went and grabbed the physical magazine today. I am writing a summary as usual but if you prefer to wait for the raw, feel free to scroll through this because this chapter has a lot of actions involved and I don’t think I know enough English to summarize it properly lol

Anyway, this chapter is all about Tachihara being awesome and kicking ass xD As always, please forgive my crappy English/Japanese.

SPOILERS AHEAD

- Fukuchi destroys the USB with the tracking device but Tachihara tells him it also has a recording device which means the army people have heard what they are talking about. Tachihara gets angry, asking why Fukuchi did that kind of thing. Tachihara says he has carried out so many dangerous missions, including joining the mafia, faking emotions to his “friends” (flashback showing Hirotsu and Gin), all because he thinks Fukuchi’s orders will make him who he is. Fukuchi says that Tachihara was a good soldier, to which he denies, saying he is not a soldier anymore.

- Fukuchi doesn’t seem to care about Tachihara at all, saying he will just let Bram bite everyone in the army who has heard the conversation and turn them into his allies. However, Tachihara says that he and Mori has come up with a way to deal with Fukuchi’s ability. He takes out the bandage and sticks it on his nose, a sign that he is now acting as a Port Mafia’s member.

- Tachihara throws his sword towards Fukuchi, which Fukuchi easily repels by his own sword. Fukuchi then tries to stab Tachihara by cutting into the past with his sword but it is stopped halfway by Tachihara’s ability. Tachihara reminds Fukuchi that no matter how good a sword is, it is still made from metal, and that is his forte. The fight becomes a strength battle where both sides try to push the sword towards the other. Just when Fukuchi thinks he is going to win, Tachihara controls the other sword (the one he throws at the beginning) to aim for Fukuchi from behind. Fukuchi is surprised and has to jump to dodge it. Taking the chance, Tachihara uses his ability to steal the magical sword from Fukuchi’s hand.

- Seeing his sword taken away, Fukuchi realizes that not only Tachihara’s ability is so strong, but it is also his natural enemy. Tachihara onces again has his sword attack Fukuchi, but Fukuchi manages to stop the blade by his bare fingers. That is, however, also in the plan. Tachihara makes the sword break into hundred small pieces and uses those pieces to attack Fukuchi. As fast as Fukuchi is, he still cannot avoid all the pieces. The ones that manage to hit him proceed to move into his blood vessel, under Tachihara’s control. Everything is in the plan that Mori and Tachihara came up with, because they know even a hero who can defeat God will still die if he gets stabbed in the brain or the heart.

- Fukuchi tries to get away from Tachihara’s ability range but Tachihara chases him onto a corner and tells Fukuchi to surrender when he notices some scratches on the wall next to him. The scratch looks like a “T” and Tachihara wonders if it has been there from the beginning.

- Meanwhile, Fukuchi tells Tachihara that noone has ever been able to corner him like that, even a Hunting dog. Tachihara replies that he is not a Hunting Dog anymore. He is Port Mafia’s Tachihara Michizou. But he did think that the Hunting Dogs was great too, if only Fukuchi had not done this horrible thing. He asks Fukuchi why he of all people decided to betray everyone and the whole world. Tachihara is trying to say something about the Hunting Dog too but cannot finish his sentence as he is stabbed by a sword sticking out from the dimension just opened behind him.

The chapter ends here with no hints on whatever just happened. Tachihara clearly has the sword in his control and Fukuchi is totally unarmed. I believe the “T” on the wall has something to do with it but that’s all I can come up with ;; Please let Tachihara be okay ;;

PS: I thought the sword that stabbed Tachihara was indeed Fukuchi’s sword but that might be another sword as some people suggested so I have edited it a little bit. Now I’m thinking about the people who can open a dimension like that and I suddenly remember Gogol... Idk anymore...

Thank you for reading till the end. Next chapter will be out February 4th.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #spoilers #bsd spoilers #tachihara michizou #mori ougai #fukuchi ouchi #summary

[narrators-journal]

Black swan

Oof, I don’t know why, but despite all of my attempts, this part is particularly rough on the writing front. Man, I’ve really, really improved lol.

cw: toys, handcuffs, overstimulation, shoddy writing

Warning: here

Previous part: here

First part: here

The days after your deal with Gogol passed in suspicious comfort. You were happy to get a room instead of your cage, even if you had to share a bed with your captor, which was a bit awkward, but you still didn't trust that you were safe. He locked you in a cage in a basement, chased you down in a sick game of tag, and suddenly he wanted normalcy?  You didn't trust it.

So, you kept yourself on alert, just waiting for some sort of second shoe to drop. Is this some sort of psychological torture? He wants to watch me drive myself insane with fear and anxiety? You pondered as you cut vegetables for dinner one night. Maybe he's being serious. He might just want to have a normal sort of set up between us...or maybe he's planning something a lot worse than just watching me squirm. Your thoughts were interrupted when Gogol, as if summoned by your contemplation, wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on yours,         "You're so cute when you're being a good little Zhena." He purred, watching you cook for a while before he rubbing his hands up and down your sides, slipping them beneath your shirt and making you shudder slightly. Before you knew it, he'd spun you around and smashed his lips into yours, swallowing your squeak in his eagerness to grind his bulge into your thigh. He didn't seem to care if you could properly kiss back, his own kisses were swiftly turning sloppy in his over-excitement.         "H-hey, wait. Why are you so e-eager all of a sudden?!" you asked breathlessly when you finally managed to dislodge his mouth from yours, even though he just moved to your throat.         "Silly Golubka, you should learn when I'm horny," he chuckled into your neck, "I've been acting calm all day, but in reality I've been so riled up at the thought of playing with you~" With that, he caught your mouth in another hungry kiss.        "Well...c-can't it wait until after dinner?" you asked, your voice going up an octave when his gloved hands cupped your ass and kneaded the flesh, giving you your answer without a word. Your cheeks heated up so quickly as the clown coaxed out small moans and whimpers from you with small nips to your sweet spot and the grinding of his erection against you, but just as you were beginning to slip under your own waves of arousal, he pulled away, still keeping a firm hold on your ass, but leaving your hickey covered throat alone to grin at you,        "How about we experiment tonight, Golubka?~" he suggested, his tone implying that he probably didn't plan to try anything he hadn't already tried.        "What if I say no?" you asked, trying to keep your voice from being too breathy and lustful as the clown pouted,        "Well that's no fun, it's nothing you haven't at least dabbled in, I’m sure. I'm not about to let you fuck a dog or something extreme like that." he assured, "I just want to do something a bit more fun than missionary or plain vanilla sex." That made you huff, what he saw as 'vanilla' might not be what you saw as 'vanilla', but he didn't seem to realize that.          "Can I have a way to tell you to stop?" you asked, watching the clown's mismatched gold-and-silver eyes for any lies as he grinned as if he were an angel. Well, demons were technically angels. you reminded yourself, snapping under his nose to bring him back from whatever horny thoughts were making him seem so spacey. "did you hear me?"         "Yes I did! And yes, you can have a safe word," he assured, grinning as he watched you think his request over, your face occasionally darkening in a blush before you finally squeak out some agreement. With that, you were scooped up, thrown over his shoulder despite your arguments that there was still food on the stove and carried off to whatever he had planned. The room he took you to was on the first floor of the home, and locked. That was never good. However, somehow you were still not expecting what you found within. The room was on the smaller end, with a chair or two, a bed, a chest, and some landscape paintings decorating the walls. Without any other context you'd assume this was just some random guest room, but you did know the context, so you didn't exactly trust the unassuming set up. Gogol though, seemed more than pleased to bring you to the room. He tossed you onto the bed, giggling when you bounced on the mattress. In a flash he was on top of you, kissing you again, his hand snaking its way back under your shirt to grope your breasts until you made another slew of lewd noises. Pretty soon you were squirming and hissing from the combination of painful bites and rough groping with softer, arousing kisses and ghostly brushes of fingers on especially sensitive spots. Sadly for you, before you could hold onto him, the clown grabbed your wrists and in one fluid movement cuffed them to the bed.         "What the fuck?" You breathed, angling  your head to look up at the silver cuffs clinking softly when you gave a testing tug,         "We're going to have a nice, fun day of play, Golubka~" the tall, silver haired russian purred, a coy grin on his handsome face. And there it was, the reason for your stomach was twisting in knots like anxious snakes. You didn't need to know him personally to pick up on the sadism he oozed. Noticing your nerves, the clown ran a hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair soothingly and told you a simple little safe word before heading over to the trunk at the foot of the bed and digging around in it to get some things.   When he returned, he had a blindfold and some other stuff you couldn't quite see from your spot cuffed to the headboard stashed on the floor that he was undoubtedly keeping a surprise for you, and that surprise didn't get any easier to ruin when he covered your eyes, leaving you to only be able to listen to his foot steps, him picking something up, and than feel the wriggling your bottoms down so your already pretty slick entrance was exposed to him. He hummed, rubbing your clit for a short moment to add hormones to the fire, stopping when the lustful heat reached a point that made you squirm and mewl. Than, while you were panting and slightly calming down, you heard a dull buzz, a rather familiar one, and your thoughts were suspicions were confirmed when you felt the vibrating toy being pushed into you. The feeling made you groan, louder when the clown made sure he hit your sweet spot with the filling, stimulating toy. With that, your thoughts of anxiety over him getting too sadistic were washed away in a sea of unyielding lust that was quickly growing. For an excruciating long time, you couldn't get that burning lust sated. Gogol refused to let you orgasm, relishing your moans and whines and small pleas and curses you let out while he fucked you with the vibrator. It was so frustrating, but you didn't want to give him any sort of reason to 'punish' you, you'd had a few dom's like that, using any possible excuse to hike up the cruelty, So, you kept your mouth shut and didn't try to order him around or anything. Instead, you powered through the pleasurable torment. Finally, after hours of orgasm denial, Gogol took the toy out at last. Thankfully, he wasn't so cruel as to leave you simmering in your own excitement, because soon you felt his mouth back on yours, than on your neck, stoking that heat in your stomach again before pushing into you. Whatever thoughts were still lingering were shattered at the feeling of him actually making contact with you, getting that satisfying feeling of feeling him twitch inside like he was that you craved for however long you'd been pulling on your restraints. So, when you, inevitably, got louder, Gogol muffled you with a heated kiss, nibbling at your lip or holding your chin so you couldn't yank away until he let you. Meanwhile, he slowly began to move, ignoring your impatient whines. Even if he was giving you something you wanted, of course he wouldn't give in to the rest of your demands. However, when you finally did manage to pull away from his kisses and breath, that air was pulled away yet again when the clown sped up, beginning to sprinkle in moments of getting rougher or faster, than slowing down to torture you further, until you were finally allowed to orgasm for the first time since the beginning of his sadistic game. However, he didn't stop at your orgasm, only picking up his pace and getting a lot harsher until you were whimpered and tearing up behind the blindfold as pain began sinking in amidst the abundant pleasure, slowly growing until it was starting to override the last bits of your orgasm high. But, Gogol didn't slow down or stop until he orgasmed at long last and was finally sated for the time being. And, to be honest? You hate to say you weren't enough of a masochist for that. So, when you were finally uncuffed and unblindfolded, you were more than a little sensitive and ache-y, but  you blinked and smiled slightly at him, still a bit doped up on euphoria. He just returned the smile and got dressed, letting your eyes readjust to the light before he scooped you up and carried your shaking, over-spent body back to the room he usually shared with you, making sure to shower you with affection and praise as he went to make up for the ordeal he'd put you through with little forewarning.

#Nikolai gogol #x reader #yandere gogol #bsd #bungo stray dogs #gogol x reader #yandere #fanfiction #quotev #not sfw

[phospheneics]

gogol headcannons? :)

Sure!!

𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 <3

- you were lucky to even catch his eyes

- when you guys met he wasn’t looking for any romance

- your unique personality caught his eye and he became interested in you 

- if you’re shy and introverted you’ll probably adapt to his outgoing personality

 - he’d def take you shopping and pick out clothes he’d think you’d look nice in

- would call you pet names like love or darling

- surprisingly a good cook

- he’d cook you some of his favorite dishes

- if you recommend him some books or movies he’d def watch or read them in his free time

- he’d bring back a 5 page analysis to show you how much he enjoyed it

- he loves people who are passionate about something

- literally it can be anything, he’ll listen to you talk about it all day

- get ready for a lot of forehead kisses and random hugs from behind daily

- he loves playing with your hair (if you have hair) 

- if his s/o isn’t in the DOA with him he’d try and keep them out of his work

- he’d protect his s/o with his entire life

- if someone messed with you he’d definitely kill them

- his favorite part of you is definitely your eyes and nose

- he’d look into your eyes all day if he could

- he’d call you gorgeous, captivating and attractive all the time

- can switch between being the big spoon and little spoon

- if s/o had piercings he’d steal buy cute jewelry for you to wear

- he’d 100% write little poems telling you how much he likes you

- when he realizes he’s falling in love with you he might get a little distant but keep him close and show him how much he means to you

- he’d take you to poetry/book readings for dates and you guys would have conversations about the poems after

- if you mentioned something you liked he’d pay attention and buy you things related to it

- he’d treat you like royalty <3

#nikolai gogol #nikolai bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd #osamu dazai #fyodor headcanons #nikolai headcanons #gogol headcanons #fydor dostoevsky #decay of angels #doa #port mafia #chuuya nakahara #storm bringer #dazai hcs #dazai headcanons #yosano headcanons #yosano akiko #higuchi ichiyo #higuchi x gin #tachihara x gin #fyodor x reade #nikolai x reader #atsushi nakajima #atsushi bsd #atsushi headcanons #ayatsuji yukito #sigma bsd #sigma #the hunting dogs

[xxxsoukokuxxx]

Key:  💜  fluff    ✨angst    💜 ✨ fluff and angst    no nsfw

Physical Affection Prompts (ended on 13/09/2020)

Chuuya Nakahara - 9. wiping away someone’s tears  💜 ✨

Chuuya Nakahara - 10. lifting someone up out of excitement  💜

Akutagawa Ryunosuke - 16. kissing knuckles 💜 ✨

Dazai Osamu - 18. wiping away food from someone’s lips 💜

Ranpo Edogawa - 12. an incredibly loud and painful high-five 💜

Atsushi Nakajima - 19. peppering their face in kisses 💜 ✨

Armed Detective Agency

Dazai Osamu:

Headcanons:

Dazai with an s/o winter headcanons  💜

Dazai taking care of his sick s/o  💜

S/o tries to jump scare him  💜

How he would treat his s/o on their birthday  💜

S/o on her period  💜

S/o who plays the dead girlfriend prank on him  ✨

BSD Characters and their favorite season/weather (general)💜 ✨

S/o has trouble falling asleep so they try to help 💜

Scenario/fic:

There’s more than what meets the eye (general)   ✨

Cooking with Dazai on a cold day  💜

Lost in you - songfic  💜 ✨ (slight angst)

When you love someone - songfic  💜

A family day out  💜

Only a dream (general)   ✨

Painful Memories  (general) ✨

Bed (70 One Word Prompts) 💜

Tainted Angel  (Mafia Dazai x reader) ✨

Perhaps I was too broken to be fixed, even by what I thought was love (Soukoku/Double Black) ✨

Temptation (general) ✨

The Only Constant is Heartache and Emptiness ✨

Prompt: 6. “Your nose is just so…boop-able.” *Boop* 💜

A Rainy Afternoon 💜

Atsushi Nakajima:

Headcanons:

How he would treat his s/o on their birthday  💜

BSD Characters on a school excursion (general) 💜

Kunikida Doppo:

Headcanons:

Nothing yet

Scenario/fic:

Lone Poet (general) ✨

Halloween party at the ADA  💜

Ranpo Edogawa:

Headcanons:

Ranpo with a foreigner s/o  💜

S/o who likes horror movies headcanons (specifically female)  💜

Dating headcanons  💜

Scenario/fic:

Nothing yet

I will add on as i write for the other characters

Port Mafia

Chuya Nakahara:

Headcanons:

S/o decides to play with Chuya’s hair while he’s asleep    💜

Chuya’s turn-ons and turn-offs   💜

Trick or treating with teenage Chuya   💜

Chuya with a female s/o who sits on his lap  💜

S/o gets involved in a car accident  ✨ 💜

S/o who tries to jump scare him  💜

Apologizing after a fight  ✨ 💜

How he would treat his s/o on their birthday  💜

Gn! reader who gets really bad migraines  💜

S/o who is fluent in more than one language  💜

S/o on her period  💜

S/o who is uncomfortable and in pain 💜

S/o who plays the dead girlfriend prank on him ✨

Scenario/fic:

S/o who likes to pretend to be Chuya 💜

Dancing to our love  💜

Angst prompt- why do you care about whether or not i jump?  ✨

“You’d be a great mother”  💜

Genuine -> continuation of Save your tears, I’m done here  ✨ 💜

Perhaps I was too broken to be fixed, even by what I thought was love (Soukoku/Double Black) ✨

The heart aches for what it cannot have but loves  ✨

Akutagawa Ryunosuke:

Headcanons:

Apologizing after a fight  ✨ 💜

How he would treat his s/o on their birthday  💜

BSD Characters on a school excursion (general) 💜

BSD Characters and their favorite season/weather (general) 💜✨

Scenario/fic: 

Cherry Blossom Bliss  💜

Soft Love 💜

Sapphire Moonlight 💜

Prompt: 16. “People piss me off so fucking much!” “…Do I count as people?” “Of course not.” 💜

Tachihara Michizou:

Headcanons:

Nothing yet

Scenario/fic:

Net (70 One Word Prompts)  ✨ 

Mori Ougai:

Headcanons:

Mori with a female s/o who often visits him in his office  💜

Mori with a foreigner s/o  💜

Scenario/fic:

Nothing yet

Q (Yumeno Kyusaku):

Headcanons:

Nothing yet

Scenario/fic:

The world is no place for innocent love  ✨

The Guild

Edgar Allan Poe:

Headcanons:

Platonic!Poe friendship headcanons  💜

Poe with a s/o who falls asleep on the subway  💜

S/o who goes through a book a day - bookworm s/o  💜

S/o who is uncomfortable and in pain 💜

Scenario/fic:

Decay of Angels

Fyodor Dostoevsky:

Headcanons:

Fyodor with a s/o who falls asleep on a subway  💜

Nikolai Gogol:

Headcanons:

Nikolai with a s/o who has a doll ability (similar to Lucy’s)  💜

Scenario/fic:

A free bird? Or to be kept in a cage?  (general) ✨

I will add on as i write for the other characters

Analyses

Dazai’s ability -  No Longer Human analysis (short)

Dazai and his ability analysis - longer version with an answer

The Similarities between Dazai Osamu and Nikolai Gogol

Rules & About my blog:

Link here

Please read my rules before requesting. Characters i write for are under About my blog & Rules.

I also write analyses, check out my rules first before requesting. 

It would be much appreciated if you did so.

DM me or send an ask if any of the links are not working. 

Note: credits to @smoochi-modest​ for the header 

#Masterlist #about my blog #my rules #characters i write for #analyses #💜 #✨

[macarona-hellfire]

So... My Sigma x Nikolai fanfic

Woo! Please enjoy!

“Hm..” Sigma looked at the paperwork, focusing on what he was writing. It was an lengthy accident report form. A fight had broken out in the casino, leaving two injured. He let out a sigh, gently rubbing his forehead out of stress. He *loathed* doing paperwork for anything no matter what it was for.

Before getting to the next page, The Casino Owner heard a loud bang from behind him. Standing in the door frame was Nikolai Gogol. Of course, it had to be him. It just had to be Nikolai Fucking Gogol.

Sigma paused from writing, letting out a loud groan of irritation as he turned his head to meet Nikolai’s gaze. “What is it, Gogol?” he asked, his tone stern. “I am quite busy right now and not in the mood for whatever shenanigans you may be up to”

The Clown let out a mischievous giggle, quite amused by Sigma’s Words. “Is all you do is work for that casino of yours?” asks Nikolai rudely, appearing to the right of Sigma. “So tense! So serious!” he teases to torment him further.

“Do you have an illness that refuses to let you shut up or are you just annoying in general?” remarks Sigma, shooting Nikolai a scornful gaze. “I will never understand you, will I?”

“Likeeee anyoneeeee everrrrr coulddd!” Nikolai says in a singsong voice, booping Sigma’s Nose, watching him flinch in surprise.

“Gogol”

“Yessss?”

“Please. Never do that ever again”

“Do what??”

“Do not play dumb”

Sigma shuddered at the thought of Nikolai touching him again, it’s not that he hated it. He enjoyed it. He hated that he enjoyed it. Of course he’d never say that to Nikolai. Why would he say *anything* to Nikolai?

That’s when Nikolai let out the most dramatic gasp a person could before he let out a rather annoying, ear piercing laugh. “Sigma! Do you not like people touching you?!” He cried out, laughing as if this was the funniest thing in the century.

“From what i’ve read and seen, it is not respectful nor formal to touch someone without consent” Sigma awkwardly explained, fidgeting with a lock of his hair.

“Sooo, let’s say hypothetically” Nikolai went on, putting his right hand in his Overcoat. “This wouldn’t be formal or respectful or whatever the hell you were saying!” That’s when Sigma felt a poke to his side, causing him to flinch.

“Gogol. Quit this nonsense immediately. I know that was you. Curse your damn ability” Sigma let out a “hmph” sound which made Nikolai laugh even more.

“I can’t believe you!” Nikolai giggled, “You cannot even handle a mere tap to the side!” The Clown spitefully poked him in the side a couple more times, letting Sigma erupt into a fit of giggles.

“H-Hey- Gogo- Heheh- GOGOL?!-“ Sigma shouted in between his giggling. “Knock it off?!” Nikolai pouted, the disembodied hand disappearing.

“No fun?!”

“That....That was torture”

“How so?”

“Wouldn’t *you* like to know!?”

“At this point, I would!”

Sigma let out an irritated sigh, brushing a couple stray hairs from his face while Nikolai had a smug expression on his face. Sigma inhaled sharply before speaking. “I thought I was going to die laughing...I couldn’t stop. Is...Is that bad?”

“Sigma! You worry far too much! Do you not wish to be as free as the birds in the sky? I recommend to stop worrying if you do!”

“Cut the shit, get to the point Gogol”

“Fine Fine?! Sheesh...aren’t you a big ol jerk?”

Nikolai adjusted his hat before starting his explanation. “I think...you are possibly ticklish! Which is quite adorable and the most normalish person thing i’ve seen today!”

“Whatever it is...” Sigma shudders, “I hate it with a burning passion” Yet again, another statement to cause Nikolai to laugh while on the other hand, Sigma’s cheeks were a bright reddish hue, glancing away from Nikolai.

“You never fail to amuse me Sigma!” Nikolai wipes away a fake tear after he finishes laughing. “You’re so nice to hang out with!” Sigma lets out another “hmph” before turning completely away.

“I...I should get back to work-“ Sigma quietly says, about to pick up his pen

“Ah Ah Ah! I’ll poke you again if you even think about going back to work!” Nikolai playfully threatens, a devilish smile painted on his face.

“...Fine”

“Wonderful!”

Nikolai grabbed hold of Sigma’s arm, hugging it affectionately and he didn’t stop him. Maybe physical touch wasn’t so bad, maybe it was actually quite nice at some points.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd sigma #bsd nikolai gogol

[annastudyblr]

My school booklist

Hey y'all! I just wanted to share booklist for my russian literature class, because maybe if i share this, i will actually read it; and maybe i'll give you some motivation to read russian classics

The Bronze Horseman: A Petersburg Tale by Alexander Pushkin (aka "our everything")

Nevsky Prospekt; The Nose; The Portrait by Nikolai Gogol

Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov (it's about lazy man, i think i'll like it)

The storm by Alexander Ostrovsky

Fathers and sons by Ivan Turgenev (this one is really good tho)

iconic War and Peace by Lev Tolstoy (but he is very mysoginic, and writes too much so I don't like him)

Who is happy in Russia? by Nikolai Nekrasov (spoiler: nobody)

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (this one is really dark academia, i think i'll read this one first)

The Cherry Orchard and small stories like Ward No. 6; Ionych; About Love; The Lady with the Dog; The Man in the Case; Gooseberries; The Student; Misery by Anton Chehov

🖤

#study aesthetic #study motivation #studying #studyblr #book list #russian literature #literature #books #studyspo #reading #dark academia #classic academia