#Fyodor fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeydazai · 2 months

Note

ok ok but hubby Fyodor gave me an idea, he’s figured out i get worried when his anemia gets bad so i fuss over him

imagine like,,, him using that against u. like if he’s losing an argument, or he just wants attention, he fakes sickness to get u to drop everything ur doing and come to his aid, u immediately feel bad so he uses that to manipulate u

feat.: Fyodor / reader

content: husband Fyodor, some manipulation but it's cute, Fyodor pretending to be a pathetic meow meow, fluff, sick fic

Fyodor is fragile, that much you're aware of.

Despite his quick mind, so sharp you reckon it could cut diamond, and his powerful ability, his physical body is still frail. His skin is pale, most likely since he spends too much time inside, hunched over in front of his many PC screens, providing him with no light other than the gloom of LED monitors, thin fingers tip-tapping away on the keyboard. His undereye circles are dark enough for you to seriously worry about his health, and the many blue veins visible on thin eyelids only make him appear more sickly.

The anemia doesn't help, either; thin lips occasionally turn whiteish the longer he insists he's going to take his iron supplements once he's done with work — when is he, ever? — and his nails, kept short not only for the sake of being able to play the cello, but also since he continued biting at them, are coloured blue so often you have almost forgotten what they usually look like.

Fyodor, despite being an internationally wanted terrorist, is fragile, and that's exactly why you're unable to stop the way your chest suddenly aches with concern when he goes quiet mid-argument, gaze unfocused, glassy, as he sits down on the bed.

This really isn't the time to worry about him, especially since, just a few moments ago, you were snarling at him, obviously angered for a reason that seems entirely unimportant right now — and yet you can't help it either, your concern an emotion that blooms in your chest so very naturally, given just how much he means to you.

“Are you alright?” The words leave your mouth before you know it; your brows furrowing as you kneel down next to him, one hand on his thin upper arm. Even through the fabric of his shirt, his skin is cold. “Do you need anything?”

“I'm quite alright, dear. I would hate to bother you, especially when you still seem to harbour disdain for me.”

Even his voice sounds frail. Guilt gnaws at your every bone.

“That's not—”, you protest, a feeble attempt, though you're quick to swallow the urge to start another argument down the moment he rests his head against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, ebony lashes against snow pale skin. “I don't 'harbour disdain' . I didn't even want to fight with you, it just — happened, but that's not important now. Let me help. Did you take your meds today?”

“Not yet, I'm afraid”, Fyodor says softly, and you're up on your feet almost immediately, making your way towards the kitchen to snag the offending pills, as well as a glass of water.

“You know you're supposed to take them daily with lunch.”

“That is merely to avoid forgetting them, to build a habit. The presence or absence of sustenance has no actual effect on them.”

Your eyes narrow. Fyodor allows a tired chuckle to leave his lips.

“Alright. I will try to take them regularly — for you, dear.”

Where, just a few minutes ago, you felt the urge to slap him with wrath — not that you ever would, not that you'd dare to, but the desire certainly is there whenever he acts all high and mighty, all-knowing, even around you —, your chest now tingles with warmth, with fondness. With love.

“Thank you. Are you feeling better already?” That's to be doubted, especially since he only took the pills a moment ago. Still— “Do you need anything? Maybe something to eat — yes, I bet you haven't eaten anything in a while now, too focused on work. You're impossible. Just lie down and give me a moment, I'll be right back.”

With those words, you vanish into the kitchen, already grabbing some vegetables. A quick soup is going to have to do.

Little do you know that, while you're busy worrying and fussing over him, there's a smile playing over Fyodor's lips ever so often, vanishing the moment you enter the room once more.

You really are too easy — though that's exactly what makes you quite this lovable.

OH. Oh, he would.. he so would... this is the most in character take ever...

join my tag list here!! | ko-fi 💜 | comms!

tags: @ashthemadwriter-uwu @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646nsfw @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @Senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving @mariaace @mello0cat @squigglewigglewoo @rainy-dazie @itzashlyn123

@fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @Chxrry-doll

@irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @alice0blog

591 notes · View notes

sleepdeprivedfyodor · 1 month

Note

Hiiii I just read your fyodor fic and I love it🎀 and I would like to request fyodor x reader based on "spiracle" by flower face, I think the song fits him perfectly. Maybe you can write it from reader's POV, she's a little obsessed with Fyodor but it's one soded kind of. Also can you make it a little angsty please

And sorry for my bad English it's not my first language

𝖲𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗅𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖥𝗒𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗋 𝖣𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗒𝖾𝗏𝗌𝗄𝗒 𝗑 𝖲𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖮𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

𝖠/𝖭: 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗆𝗀! 𝖠𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖥𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖥𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇! 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♥︎ 𝖡𝗍𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖯𝖮𝖵, 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾, "𝖨," 𝖺𝗇𝖽 "𝖬𝗂𝗇𝖾," 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗅! 𝖤𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!

𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖯𝖮𝖵: 𝖳𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝖨'𝗆 𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇, 𝖥𝗒𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗋, 𝖨'𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖨'𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖡𝗎𝗍, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅, 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨'𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝖽𝗅𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖨 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉, 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾.

𝖨'𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗋.

28 notes · View notes

koniku · 1 year

Text

Flower

Fyodor×reader | smut | nsfw

tw: nsfw, dark themes, unhealthy relationships, jealousy, exhibitionism, mentions of torture

summary: jealous sex with fyodor in front of nikolai and another man to assert dominance idk

a/n: so, I'm back with a new fic, yk I've been wanting to write for Fyodor for the longest of times, I just had to finish the cafe series first. Anyways have fun

_______________________________________

"You're a flower" he says, "a lone standing white lily in a green field, so outstanding and marvelous, beautiful and pure, innocent and untainted" he continues as he puts his hands on your shoulders, leaning down so that his lips are right next to your ears, "My dear, you're irreplaceable, you do not deserve to be an ewe amongst the flock, your seat is here, with me. I am the shepherd and you, my shepherdess" he lowers his head even more, so that his lips are right next to yours, "I've given you so much, is it not enough?" you shake your head, yet that doesn't seem to be enough for him. He walks around you to stand directly in front of you, with lithe fingers, he tilts your chin up, "I want you to answer with your words, you're a big girl now, aren't you?" upon hearing those words, you open your mouth to speak despite the dry feeling in your throat that makes it seem impossible to even let out a squeak, "I'm sorry" you manage to say, though it comes out as a whisper. "Sorry? Well yes, I suppose you should be" he says, hands now traveling down to the sides of your body, slowly going lower and lower, "I've taken such good care of you, haven't I?" His hands now rests on the fat of your ass, giving it a light squeeze, "I've taken such good care of you, only for another lamb to undress you with it's filthy eyes" he retreats his hands and places it around your waist, "that calls for a punishment, misbehaved lambs needs to know their places"

The pained cries of the tortured man rings in your ears, though you can't see him blindfolded, the metallic smell of blood is enough to tell you all you need to know. Fyodor is a cruel man, he has you on his lap, cock nestled deep in your dripping cunt as he orders Nikolai to continue his abuse on the victim. "You're kind and forgiving, I am not. Feel not pity for the lowly fool who attempt to harm you" he lifts you up by the waist "Do remember to scream out my name" and he drops you onto his dick, it's head hitting your cervix forming a bulge on your lower abdomen. You scream out his name as your eyes roll to the back of your head, back arching into him. "Let us put on a good show for them" he sets a quick pace, his hands moving from your waist to the back of your thighs to hold them up, your glistening cunt out in the open for all to see. His continues his abuse on your cunt, hips thrusting up half way to meet yours as you cry out his name in a series of chants like a prayer, forgetting all but the man who made you feel the utmost pleasure. You cum with a few more jerks of his hips as your head tilted back onto Fyodor's shoulder yet his pace falters not one bit. Overstimulation started to take over but that didn't stop him, only when he shoots his load into you does he cease his movements. He removes his hands from your thighs and lays one hand on your waist while the other wraps around your nape as he pushes you onto your hands and knees. "Don't fall asleep on me now love, we're only getting started"

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fanfic #bsd smut #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodof dostoevsky #bsd nikolai gogol #fanfic #smut #fyodor fanfic #fyodor smut #fyodor bsd #nikolai bsd #bsd nikolai

161 notes · View notes

cryslut · 9 months

Text

BSD Men - Soulmate

「 Fyodor ~ Chuuya ~ Dazai ~ Tetchou ~ Jouno ~ Nikolai 」 - Where the BSD men cast find out that you two are soulmates. Finding out you were destined to be together after being told by some gifted person with the ability to read peoples lives. - Gender neutral reader, there may be spelling errors this is not fully proofread. I'm not sure where this idea came from and I'm not sure what this is suppose to be but nonetheless I hope you enjoy this (Some of this feels out of character but I hope it's still okay) (The picture above of all characters was edited by me - if you use, give credit)

↳ Fyodor Dostoevsky

As a terrorist and someone who is cruel and manipulative, he is also calm in dire situations. So finding out that you two were meant to be together, he didn't mind it. After all, you two knew each other for a while.

You two met when you were on the verge of your very untimely tragic death. He saw potential in you, manipulating his way to convincing you to join him otherwise if you didn't, he would let you die on the ground. You of course accepted the offer.

You two were roaming around the city of Yokohama. Coming across a man that stopped you both, talking about how your lives were going to go, and then letting you both know that you were indeed meant to be together.

"You two are also meant to be together, you're soulmates I suppose," The man in front of you both says calmly. Fyodor keeping his composure, "We're not even together but we're meant to be you say?" The man looks at him nodding his head, "That is how it is."

After the very random encounter, you two kept walking around making way to where you two wanted to head to. As you both reach an alleyway, Fyodor stops walking in his tracks and turns to look at you, "If that man is true to his word.. do you want to see if it's really spot on or not?" His eyes go back and forth looking at yours.

Nodding your head accepting his offer, "Sure," You smile softly at him, "Good, then we're official, let's keep going."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Chuuya Nakahara

You and Chuuya were already in a relationship. One thing lead to another with you both and here you were with him. When he found out you two were meant to be together, he was completely more than fine with it. He didn't want to lose you as he already lost enough as it is. So this made him really happy deep down but he didn't want to admit it too much.

You were both just finishing a meeting in the port mafia and you two are about to head out, exiting the building. Some guy walks up to you, the man is caught by the both of you and drawn to you as if he needs to tell you something.

He explains how his gift works and briefly explains how your two lives will unfold for a while but leaving out too many details otherwise he's just messing with the future. He lets you both in on one secret though and that would be that you two are destined.

"The both of you are soulmates," He whispers loud enough while leaned towards the both of you then taking a step back. Chuuya nods his head as if he wasn't too affected by it. This made you upset so after the man was done speaking to you both. You gave him a little talk. Let's just say he ended up confessing how he felt and that he truly does love you

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Dazai Osamu

Dazai is a very flirty man, and he was always like that with you enough as it is. You two have had sexual relations with each other. So when he found out you two were destined to be together, it was quite interesting to say the least.

You two were in the cafe that was right below the armed detective agency, with the rest of the group chatting and as usual Dazai makes dumb flirty comments to you, getting a reaction out of Kunikida to make him stop completely bonking the man on the head as usual.

You brushed it off and didn't really care. Once they gather away, a man walked into the cafe ordering something and then while he was waiting he made his way over to your table, the same one where you and Dazai were alone together at.

He can already tell some things about you two. He starts a conversation then telling you both a little bit about himself and about his gift. Then he goes on to inform you both about your lives and what will happen. But leaving anything too crazy and major out, after all he doesn't want to mess with fate. He does let you both in one secret though.

"Not suppose to tell you this, but the both of you are meant to be together, you two are soulmates, basically destined, it was fate you met," The man says softly and quietly not trying to draw attention from anyone else. Dazai looks surprised and then looks over at you and smirks, "Well I guess all those times I've 'helped' you really did pay off in more ways than just one, huh?" He nudges you. Your face heats up, followed by a pink tint on it that can be seen.

Of course Dazai would find a way to make you feel flustered or even embarrassed. He always did with his flirtatious comments. That's what you loved about him though. After the man left and you two were alone at the table again, before anyone could come back to interrupt, Dazai lifts his head up and averts his gaze onto you, "So, you want to see if this man's words are really accurate? If you're mine after all, I could help you more," He smirks at you and you blush once more nodding your head, "Sure, I'd love to."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Tetchou Suehiro

Tetchou is a very serious well organized person, he hates sadistic beings so he's a very soft individual especially when it comes to you. He can be even seen as over protective over you. You two are already dating, you two started talking and really getting along when you joined the hunting dogs.

So learning about the two of you and your destiny together was quite interesting. He was quite entertained by the idea of it and really wanted to move forward with you.

You two were hunting a criminal that not even the armed detective agency could track down. When you two stumbled upon a man, questioning him if he saw the perpetrator anywhere, a small conversation started and then he broke out saying how you two are destined to be together.

Tetchou looked a bit serious at this moment in time but he was quite surprised, hearing the words 'destined to be together' and 'soulmate' all in one sentence threw him off for a moment but he kept his composure, "We're already together. But you have this gift and you're able to tell us that we are.. soulmates?" He questions as the man nods at him, "Interesting."

So you two have a conversation about it while looking for the gifted perpetrator that no one can really seem to track down. He seemed quite happy knowing that you two got together and he was excited deep down inside that you two were going to spend the rest of your lives together.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Jouno Saigiku

As some who seems very happy and cheerful a lot of the time even in situations with people he cannot tolerate at all, he seems like he'd be the soft type. He really isn't, maybe for you. But he abhors intense emotions from those around him, so you would think he'd hate the concept of love. He doesn't when it comes down to you though, he doesn't quite show it a lot though. So finding out that you two are soulmates.

You two were off doing your own thing on some break away from all the others, a man randomly approached you both starting a conversation and then explaining his gift and how it works and then asks to try it out on you two. You both let him with Jouno completely on guard in case something would happen but smiling while doing so to throw the man off if he tried anything at all.

He then proceeds to tell you two little small details about what's to come in the future and then loops you two in to a secret about how you two were meant to meet each other and meant to find each other is leading to the both of you ending up together and being happy together. Jouno was already looking very happy but he didn't try showing any emotion about the whole situation at hand.

"We are meant to end up together, you say?" His tone is still as cheerful as ever, "Indeed," The man says as you look over at Jouno. Although you both were not together you were upset because it was clear to you that you had feelings for him.

So once the conversation was over you decided to have a little talk with him, "So about what that man said," Jouno draws his attention to you, "He said we were meant to be together, do you wanna.." You stop as you felt yourself growing nervous.

"Yes, we can give dating a shot," He takes your pause as a hint as to what you were going to ask, you smile and felt relieved and happy about what he said, you two continue doing what you were before and went on with your day after talking about that one situation for a while.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Nikolai Gogol

This man is very sadistic in nature. But deep down he has a soft spot for you. He may not admit it and may be even distant from time to time but he does treat you with the upmost respect and love with all the compassion he can when he does show anything at all. So finding out that you two are soulmates was something he found interesting, not really understanding it.

You two were doing your own thing. You tend to follow Nikolai around because the things he does never makes sense to you so you just tag along and don't question it. A man by himself piqued your interest and you decided to go up to him. A conversation had started and one thing leading to another, the man going into small details about your life along with Nikolai's.

The man seemed to know enough about who Nikolai was to be a bit distant from him so he made it up to him and you by telling you both a secret, which was that it was fate you two met.

"You guys.. are soulmates," He starts off softly, trying to remain calm while Nikolai was around, "You two are meant to be together as in.. dating," You look over at Nikolai who was just smiling and kinda surprised, but also quite confused not really understanding it, "So we're meant to be together?" He says, he keeps his very cheerful attitude but you can hear the cluelessness in his tone, "Yes, correct."

After some time of a conversation with the man, Nikolai is confused by the term soulmate so you briefly explain it the best way you can, "Ohh okay! So this means, me and you can finally date?" He yells out with joy as it makes you jump back and laugh, "Yes, we can."

43 notes · View notes

aureatchi · 1 month

Text

⋆ ☽˚｡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ AND THAT DAY THAT WE’LL WATCH THE DEATH OF THE SUN . . . ft. FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

⟢ PRÉCIS. restless at an hour far too late to be awake, you take a quest to the personal library lit only by warm-toned ambient lamps and candles. however, you are greeted by one who chastises you to rest, and despite his pretty face you remain stubborn. in turn, he takes up a mission on his own; one that he alone will always win: to coax you to sleep.

◞ OR fyodor knows time is limited. if only you realized this was his labyrintian way of saying au revoir for now.

ᡴꪫ a/n. it’s always his lap. been thinking about this scenario for awhile + re-inspired by the friends who played with my hair this week hehe. it makes me feel so sleepy. started to cope with ch113. :’) i hope this is decent ᡣ𐭩

ᡴꪫ info. fem!reader. fluff; sweetly suggestive in one part…and then hit with a train of angst; i warned u. soft fyodor. comfort/hurt ↻. religious imagery. it’s u trying to get him to sleep too. both poetic and shakespeare ramblings. bsd manga chapter 113 + s5 finale spoilers. russian may be incorrect. ﾉ wc. 3.1k+

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?”

Seated on the armchair across from yours, the ravenette took a sip of tea from his mug before setting it down. A bantering parley had taken place in between you two, filled with giggles and smiles, but in a moment without thought, you had brought up a more serious topic.

“Actually, yes,” he responded.

“A woman’s intuition.” You didn’t miss how his gaze slightly lowered. “The woman’s gut feeling is superior. If a man were to try manipulating her, she would know. No matter how naïve she was, the body would give her a single signal that could unravel his entire disposition at the fingertips.”

You discreetly smiled, looking down at the mug. You knew Fyodor was referring to his experience with you. At one point in time, he tried to finesse you in schemes of calamity. But in response, you ruined him—he would dare not admit out loud that you had forcefully taken whatever mess his heart was and sewed it back together with the strings of your own soul. You did so without ever realizing either. After so many years on this earth, even he did not know how to mend himself.

Now, he could only look at you as being the single thing that didn’t go wrong in the wasteland of the world. The ravenette almost considered you not of the world—you were as divine as the angels, after all. Perhaps it was his excuse to add along another duty the Father had commissioned to him—Fyodor would assure your safety and happiness through the rest of time—even once he got his hands on that book.

Because if not plans that surged through his mind, it was his most cherished memories of you.

…

Even though the room wasn’t too hot and the bed wasn’t uncomfortable, you could not go to sleep. You had tried counting sheep in your head for hours, but you still ended up awake well past midnight and had enough sheep for dozens of herds.

You turned over in annoyance before you finally sat up. You didn’t understand why you felt such unease—maybe you drank your coffee too late in the day. A bad decision at that.

You tapped the other side of the bed for a final check. Empty. Fyodor was still up. You would visit him in the office later, but for now, you’d give him the privilege of being unbothered. You decided on another place to visit—somewhere that would calm you down so perhaps you could finally catch slumber.

The personal library.

It was the coziest place, especially during the late hours of the evening, where the lights were warm and dim, not too hard on the eyes. Where the shelves were packed with literature and knowledge permeated the room with its philosophy. Fyodor annotated everything—so most books were scribbled in almost illegible cursive Russian. You always told yourself if you didn’t start to learn his lingo, you would be locked away from the library’s secrets forever.

You tiptoed down the hallway until you reached the door at the end. You were thinking of picking up one of William Shakespeare’s tragedies and reading until either you fell asleep or the sun rose. You prayed it wasn’t the latter—though restless, you were exhausted too. And you didn’t want to suffer the consequences the next day.

However, you were surprised to see the door already narrowly open. The lights were on and the candles were lit, too—was Fyodor not in his office? He seldom worked anywhere else and would always go to you as soon as he finished.

You peeked through the slight crack in the door. He was indeed there—your lover’s back turned towards you, capturing all his charming enigma. How the man carried himself with the poise and elegance of a white dove, despite starting wars among nations. His mouth spoke of divinity while he ravaged the harmony of life with his hands. It was fitting; Fyodor was a juxtaposition in himself—you knew this, and so did he.

“You can come in.” A second of pure silence passed before you opened the door to step inside. Not even a single noise was made, and yet, he recognized your presence.

Almost shyly, you shuffled towards him. You did not plan for Fyodor to catch you—you were still in between deciding whether going inside was worth his lecture.

Because although the handsome workaholic stayed up until absurd hours of the night, he did not want you following his ways.

You circled the lounging area until you were in front of him, who closed the journal he was writing in.

“Lyubov, why are you still awake?” he asked.

Usually, you only stayed up out of anticipation in waiting for his return—whether from a mission or just to the bed. You were so stubborn that Fyodor would actually halt his work for a few days after being gone for awhile to sleep with you so that he was sure you were resting properly.

It was different this time. He had been home for the whole month, and despite being in his office for the majority of this week, you didn’t have any problem with going to bed without him until now.

You shrugged with a quiet, “I’m not sure.” You eyed the unfamiliar journal. “Are you still working?”

“Sort of,” Fyodor replied. “Would you like some chamomile tea? That will help.”

You shook your head. “What do you mean ‘sort of?’ Last time I checked, you were either working or not.”

“It’s not any more important than addressing the current problem at hand,” he calmly dejected the topic, leaving you confused.

“What’s the current problem?”

“You’re awake. You shouldn’t be at this hour.”

“Well, now that I’ve found you here, I don’t think I can return to bed unless you come with me.” You dramatically yawned before stepping closer to him.

“Let’s go sleep, Fedya.” You tried dragging him up by the arm, but he stayed sat on the armchair, much to your disdain.

“I cannot, I’m not done yet,” Fyodor replied. As you froze, he took your hand in his and brought you to his lap.

“However, you must sleep.” He let you shift so that you were comfortable. “You came here to read?”

“Yeah,” you replied as he handed you a book. What a mind reader Fyodor was—you were presented with The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. It would be the perfect reread.

“Why this play?” you tested.

“The pile of books you never put back on the shelves over there shows you’ve been reading a lot of tragedies lately,” he nodded towards the stack of books you read this week. “I thought you’d probably be in the mood for one by none other than the master of catastrophe.

“Plus, it’s fitting for you, too,” he added, voice a bit lower as he fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Hey!” You pouted, moving away from him, pretending you were insulted. Though you knew too that further proved his point.

“Maybe we should act it out,” you joked as you scanned through the pages to find a poem you were familiar with. “Act two, scene two.”

“Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia,” Fyodor recalled.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

“doubt that the sun doth move;

“doubt truth to be a liar;

“but never doubt I love.”

“Dlya neye, v iskrennosti,” you squinted, reading the little note by the quote you did not understand. The Russian laughed at your terrible pronunciation.

“Some scholars say that Hamlet used his words toward Ophelia as a manipulation tactic,” he stated. “He had a larger strategy at hand, and he rarely mentioned her unless she was on stage, with the exception of her death. If he harbored such a profound love for her, would Shakespeare not make it more direct? What do you think?”

You contemplated for a few seconds, eyes drifting amongst the shelves of books as you felt your lover behind you gently run his fingers through your hair.

“I think Shakespeare didn’t give us clarity for a reason. I’d like to believe Hamlet did love Ophelia. The story does not revolve around romance, after all—it revolves around revenge. A man with ambitious plans would not have love at the forefront of his head. Or, he wouldn’t speak aloud about it, at the least. Perhaps he was more reserved about that aspect of his life, too—he could’ve been shy to speak about it in front of all aristocracy—like you, for example.”

You giggled with a shrug, expressing your last phrase as lighthearted, but you still earned a slight frown from him. It was amusing that the nationwide terrorist was timid in everything concerning his love life.

“Obviously, it could be taken as manipulation, too,” you continued. “But again, it’s not stated upfront for a reason. Shakespeare mirrors the complexities of a person in real life. You never quite know the truth of other people, no matter how much you think you know them.”

Fyodor nodded, satisfied with your interpretation. “I wholly agree. It is why Shakespeare is enticing to many—he creates characters that simulate life’s universal themes and relatable human emotions when reacting to those situations. I only disagree with one point you made.”

“Which one? You being shy?” you asked. He shook his head with a smile.

“Perhaps I will reward you with that knowledge if you sleep.” He chuckled when you groaned in disappointment.

“How about you just do your work while I read? Then, when you finish, we can leave together.”

“If it were that easy. You’re a distraction, milaya.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I promise! I originally came here to read anyway—I won’t distract you this time.” You moved to one side of Fyodor’s lap so he would have space to do what he wanted.

He did not answer you, instead making a quiet “tsk” when his fingers caught on a tangle in your hair. Fyodor worked to gently separate the knot. The terrorist was a perfectionist, but the mindset further stemmed past reaching twisted goals to create a world without flaws. Three spoons of jam in his tea, faint scratches on a deck of cards, and ensuring he had the satisfaction of reaching the ends of your hair with his fingertips were a few details he keenly paid mind to.

You took his silence as a comply, and started to play out the tragedy of the Danish prince in your head while your lover brushed through your locks. Eventually, he picked his journal back up and continued to write information you paid no mind to.

…

You did not know how much time passed before you felt your eyes grow heavy. The faint ticks of the clock on the wall combined with the warm candlelight’s glow drew you to slumber. You closed Hamlet and shifted positions until you ended up straddling Fyodor. You buried your face in the crook of his neck until you could see nothing but dark.

“Sonnyy?”

He started stroking his fingers through your hair again, relaxing you even more.

“Lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. S toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy.”

However, the sounds of seconds passing by and intimate lighting adorning the room could not compare to the persuasion of your lover’s voice in his mother tongue. Foreign words spilled from his lips as rich as velvet, as soothing as a lullaby. If his voice, in general could put you in a trance, here he harbored the garden serpent’s master of temptation itself. Even if you did not understand him. Worst of all, he knew this. You had fallen into his trap long ago.

“Ya boudou skucha—what are you doing?”

You were drowsily planting kisses on his neck. You stopped once the room became silent and looked up, catching his half-lidded amethyst gaze. The conjurer’s expression was for once softened—or perhaps it had been the entire time you were with him. It was a gift only you were blessed with.

You smiled, a tad smugness in your look, before sitting up and giving him a shy peck on his lips.

For a few seconds, you were both frosted in that moment of time—his hands wrapped around your waist, massaging circles onto your skin under your shirt as you straddled his own, your eyes fixated on his almost surprised, slightly flustered violet stare. The candles illuminated the room in such a way that made you think it was really only you two who existed in the world—your two souls someplace faraway where nothing else mattered but the sounds of your heartbeats and what you would do next after his mouth slightly parted. You were the most beautiful thing Fyodor had laid eyes on, throughout eras of people.

You kissed him for the first time that night, and the ravenette kissed you back. It escalated to become sloppy—you were both too exhausted to care whether your lips were on his or if they instead trailed down to trace his jawline as sharp as those of the greek gods. Or when you were back on your lover’s neck—however, this time almost sucking, mesmerized by how easily you could bruise him. You did not need to wear lipstick to create deep red marks on Fyodor’s pale skin.

“I told you that you’d end up being a distraction.”

You shivered at cold fingertips dancing across your lower abdomen, though they were still quite far from anywhere you wished. You winced when Fyodor bounced you up in order to fix your position, but it offered a different effect.

“Careful,” he warned. “That spot is visible to others.”

Being the leader of the Rats in the House of the Dead and member of organization Decay of Angels placed the Russian at a high status in the underground world. He always restricted the places you could leave visible traces of affection on him whenever he had a new operation in front of him—Fyodor was one to uphold modesty.

You sighed softly before disconnecting your mouth from his neck, only to unbutton the top half of his shirt.

Like his hands, the demon’s heart was cold. He bore at least some sense of insensitivity to death—he had to; granting silence was part of his duty. However, something about you ignited a fire in him out of nothing, out of no help amidst ice—you were not given a flame nor torch to aid you.

If he was the one to destroy the world to pay the price of ridding sin, you were the one who rebuilt creation from the ground and up. You were unfazed by the city ruins; you were unfazed by Fyodor Dostoevsky, the man most feared in the world. A duality: to them, his hands soaked in crimson blood, but to you, they clasped around yours in adoration.

And since he’d met you, his heart was filled with the foreign warmth of love. Accompanied were trust, vulnerability, and your sweet, honey-like kisses that you littered all over his broad shoulders and chest, because he deserved love everywhere.

He whispered against your ear, promising he would indulge you more another day, when you weren’t so sleepy. When both he and the moon had a little more time in the sky, was what he didn’t say. At the same time, he took a free hand to slowly guide your eyes to close, hovering barely above your eyelashes.

You complied, with no more complaints, as he kissed you on the forehead.

…

As Fyodor carried you down the hallway to the bedroom bridal-style about half an hour later, you dozed into dazy consciousness once again.

“You have…another mission, hm?” you whispered, recalling the preceding hints he had given you.

“Yes,” he quietly replied, walking into the dark bedroom. He tucked you under the covers before getting in right beside you.

“Truly, why were you in the library?” you asked, getting out your final curiosity before you fell back to dream.

“I did have a ‘sort-of’ job,” Fyodor replied. “Taking care of you. I was aware you’d show up.”

“Please stay safe, Fedya.”

…

You knew something was off with the thunderstorm that came several weeks later. A vampire apocalypse—however fictitious that sounded—was happening back in Japan, but Fyodor kept you overseas at where you two stayed before departing.

You didn’t ever touch his plans, but your mind finally processed how every event leading up until now seemed so wrong. The month-long stay—Fyodor had never done that before. The week you decided to read tragedies—you felt one even worse than those acted out in the theatre was coming. That night you stayed up—your gut was already screaming that he was about to depart again.

And how this time would be different than before. Your intuition had warned you, yet you still fell asleep and let him leave. You stood before the journal the conjurer made sure caught your eye that night. With shaky hands and heavy rain beating down on the windows, you flipped through the pages. Confusion and tears formed in your eyes at the vague implication of what was written.

Do not worry yourself with the death of all things that are seen and unseen by you. It is not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do.

Rodnaya, you asked what I did not agree with concerning your thoughts about Hamlet loving Ophelia. Have you ever considered a man having both love and ideals at the forefront of his mind? Isn’t love a dream itself?

…

Fyodor swore this when he judged how all could go wrong in the next step of his plan. Prior to meeting you, the calculating, confident smirk he always had on his face was authentic, and he simply assumed he would never fall to a mistake.

But now the plans were adjusted to work around you; the schemes all ended to benefit you, too. If he misjudged something, not only would it fail the perfect world God deemed it to be, but it would also affect you through and through.

Perhaps that was why he only almost saw you as an angel no matter how much you resembled one—no, you were far more glorious than one. You were human—so human that instead of looking down at him from above, you came down onto tainted soil and blessed him with a piece of heaven. Real empathy that now made him think of you as he sat with a rod pierced through his torso in the escape helicopter, doomed to death.

You truly did ruin him.

…

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?”

And Sigma wondered how such a man so immoral and cruel actually loved someone else. As he searched through the demon's memories, he realized he must go much further back in time to find any helpful information for the brunette ability-nullifier who assigned him.

Because if it was not anything relating to his plans that showed up through his search, it was every memory of you.

translations: (please pardon me if they’re bad, :’) correct me if you are fluent and would like to!)

dlya neye, v iskrennost : for her, in sincerity

sonnyy : sleepy

lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. : i love you like an angel loves God, like a nightingale loves a dew.

s toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy. : with you, time stops, and i live only for moments next to you.

ya boudou skucha[t po tebe] : i will miss you.

i heard if you rb, fyodor will come back to life. :’) reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

someone should’ve warned me about hozier. only started listening to him last month and i…can’t stop.

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #𐙚 𖥔 ˖ fedya must be fancied .ᐟ #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor fluff #bsd fyodor #fyodor angst #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #fyodor fanfic #fyodor imagines #fyodor headcanons #bsd x you #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor bsd #aureatchi

367 notes · View notes

chuuyrr · 3 months

Text

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 .ᐟ

feat. dazai, chuuya, fyodor

ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: bsd men as girl dads to their daughters

ꨄ˙ CW(s): f! mom! reader, established relationship (married to your lover ofc), fluff, short scenarios, not proofread

DAZAI was humming the quiet melody of his 'certain' song as he cradles his little one. the baby in his arms was sniffling, crying softly and practically looking at him with tearful brown eyes that resembles his. he gently hushes and cradles baby sonoko in his arms, his soothing hums a lullaby in the quiet room.

sonoko was a captivating blend of both you and dazai. with her dark hair that mirrored dazai's locks and the bright twinkle in her [color] eyes reminiscent of your own, she was practically a living canvas of your shared features.

dazai gently rocks baby sonoko in his arms, whispering soothing words to calm her cries. the soft glow of the nightlight illuminated the room, creating a serene atmosphere. he cradles her close, the warmth of his embrace a comforting haven.

"hush, my little one," he murmurs, his voice a gentle melody. "there, there, sonoko. daddy is here." dazai presses a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with paternal affection, "no need for tears, little darling."

he softly sang a lullaby, the words weaving through the air like a protective cocoon. as the room embraced a peaceful stillness, sonoko's cries transformed into quiet sniffles.

dazai continued to sway gently, cherishing the precious moment of connection with his baby girl. he places her head against his chest, manipulating his heart beat into a calming rate to ground her with its sound.

you lay in bed, exhausted, but you find yourself smiling in the calmness of the night as you see your husband and daughter share a quiet bond, the world outside fading away. dazai's love for sonoko radiated in every soothing touch, a promise to always be there, hushing away any fears or tears that may come.

"you're doing that thing with your heart again, aren't you?" you whisper softly to dazai, quietly giggling.

dazai glances at you, still cradling the fruit of your love to his chest, he gently strides to your side and presses a lingering kiss on your forehead, "yeah, i am."

"i still don't get how you do that though, but it works, doesn't it?" you say softly as you see how your baby girl is all calm now.

you extend your arms to reach for sonoko but dazai gently refuses to do so, and he shakes his head as he insists, "shh, let me look after her. you go get some rest, darling."

"are you sure, osamu? sonoko can get a bit fussy," you ask softly as dazai uses his free hand that wasn't carrying sonoko to gently push you to lie back down in bed and pull the blanket over your chest.

"i'm certain. please, my love. you're exhausted from feeding her and looking after. it's daddy's turn to take over, okay?" dazai chuckles softly as sonoko began to coo and pat her tiny hands against her daddy, "we're ok."

"okay," you giggle quietly as you look at your husband and daughter, "try not to give your daddy a bad time, okay sonoko?"

sonoko merely coo and giggle at the sound of your voice before they intensified in volunme when dazai started to tickle her sides and pepper her cute round face in kisses, the rain of affection from her father making her happy.

CHUUYA sighs, holding baby saika in his arms as her cries echoed through the room. he paced around, trying to replicate the comfort saika found in her mother's presence—your presence.

although your child resembled very much like you, she got her traits and personality mostly from chuuya. she even throws quite the fuss when she was upset, and chuuya only realizes it now that you're away for a while.

"shh, saika, it's okay. come on, now." he whispers softly, his voice a mixture of reassurance and longing.

despite his best efforts to spoil her with affection, saika's cries persisted and he feels a pang of helplessness, "mommy will be back soon, little one. until then, it's just you and me, okay?" chuuya continued to sway, his touch tender and caring.

but saika's cries merely intensified, and chuuya's frustration grew. he couldn't replace the warmth and comfort that only her mother seemed to provide.

chuuya's heart sank as he looked down at his precious little one, her tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with a mix of sadness and yearning. he felt a wave of helplessness wash over him, an ache in his chest as he desperately wished he could ease her distress.

"come on, saika," chuuya whispers softly, his voice a blend of sorrow and affection. he cradles her even closer, tracing gentle circles on her back. "what's making you so upset, huh? don't you want toys? food? sweetheart, please."

saika's tiny lips quivered, and her cries persisted. chuuya's usual fiery determination waned in the face of his daughter's tears. money and gifts meant nothing in this moment. though he had her spoiled with everything and anything, she didn't seem to want any of those things as she would only squirm, kick and throw those things away in a tantrum.

in a moment of realization, chuuya gently sets aside the lavish toys and the carefully prepared food. he holds saika to his face and he looks into her teary eyes and finally, he understood the true source of her distress.

"it's not about the toys or the treats, is it, saika?" he muses softly, a smile forming on his face. cradling her up in his arms, he held her close, focusing on the simple act of giving her his undivided attention.

as he spoke soothingly to her, chuuya sensed the shift in saika's mood. her cries slowly gave way to sniffles, and she looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. realizing that what she craved was the connection with her daddy, chuuya embraced the simplicity of the moment.

"dada's right here, baby," he whispers to saika, pressing a tender kiss on her cheek, "i got you."

in that instant, the room was filled not with the extravagant gifts he could provide, but with the warmth of a father's love that proved to be the most comforting of all.

he bounced her tenderly as he swayed around the room, the rhythm calming her sniffles. chuuya presses another soft kiss on her forehead, and saika's tiny hands clung to his shirt, finding solace in the familiar embrace.

as you entered the room later on, a tired yet content smile adorned chuuya's face. his hair was tied in a low ponytail with stickers and traces of food decorated his face. in his arms, little saika peacefully slept, nestled against his chest, her [color] hair braided with small butterfly clips.

chuuya looked up, and his eyes softened at the sight of you, "hey there, love," he greets you quietly, careful not to wake saika, "we had a little adventure, but someone decided it was time for a nap."

you couldn't help but giggle fondly at the adorable scene before you. the stickers and food smudges on your husband seemed like badges of a day well spent. saika, oblivious to your arrival, continued to sleep soundly in her father's arms.

quietly, chuuya rose from his spot, carefully transferring saika to her crib. as he joined you, he sighs happily and captures your lips in a tender kiss, "looks like our little one just wanted some dada time today." the exhaustion in his eyes was overshadowed by the joy of the shared moments.

"seems like it," you say softly as you wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss once again, "but hey, you did good. thanks for looking after saika."

"don't mention it, we're in this together. i can't have my darling wife do everything. you deserved a well-rested break today," chuuya whispers against your lips as nuzzles his nose against yours lovingly.

FYODOR cradled his precious lyubov on his lap, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. with a tender smile, he began to read from a novel, his deep yet gentle voice resonating through the quiet space.

"once upon a time, in the turbulent depths of the human soul, there lived a complex character named raskolnikov. he grappled with existential questions, much like the profound mysteries we face in our own lives," fyodor narrates, his gaze shifting between the words on the page and the wide-eyed innocence in lyubov's eyes.

as he continued reading, the intricate plot and philosophical undertones of the novel intertwined with the gentle rhythm of lyubov's breathing. fyodor couldn't help but adapt the narrative, transforming it into a bedtime story that echoed the complexities of morality and human nature.

lyubov, oblivious to the weighty themes, giggled in delight at her father's animated expressions. fyodor, in turn, savored the precious moments, cherishing the bond he was cultivating with his daughter.

as lyubov listened to her father's storytelling, a contagious giggle bubbled up from within her. with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she pointed at the novel in fyodor's hands.

giggling at the sight of her father's earnest storytelling, little lyubov couldn't contain her innocence as she pointed at the pages in amusement.

lyubov, with her jet-black hair cascading in waves down her shoulders, bore a striking resemblance to her father, fyodor. the deep purple hue of her eyes mirrored his own, reflecting a shared intensity that seemed to peer into the depths of the human soul.

yet, amidst these echoes of her father's traits, her features held a delicate familiarity, capturing the essence of her other parent—you. the gentle curve of her nose and the subtle arch of her eyebrows were reminiscent of your own distinct features too.

in a moment of quiet amusement, you turned to fyodor, your husband, a playful glint in your eyes, "isn't she a tad too young for stories like that, darling?" you ask, your laughter blending with the warmth of the dimly lit room as you enter your baby's room.

fyodor, with a gentle smile, glanced at lyubov, who had now nestled herself comfortably against his chest, before looking at you, "perhaps, my love," he replies, his voice carrying a touch of self-awareness, "but the beauty of storytelling is that it grows with the listener. however, if you insist, then i suppose i'll find tales more suited to her age, tales that will weave the magic of childhood without delving too deep into the complexities of the human psyche."

as lyubov cooed and giggled in response to your shared laughter, fyodor couldn't help but join in the merriment.

with a twinkle in his eye, he gently teases, "my, my. look at this, darling. it seems our little one has a taste for the profound, even if the words are a bit too deep for her tender age. perhaps we have a budding philosopher in our midst."

"perhaps, fedya," you say with a playful glint in your eyes, your lips curving into a smile.

you and fyodor share a tender kiss, the laughter lingering in the air as a sweet reminder that, in the midst of literature's complexities and parenting's challenges, there's always room for joy and lighthearted moments in the embrace of family love as lyubov was still nestled in fyodor's embrace, she continued to babble and gurgle, her infectious laughter filling the room.

ꨄ˙ A.N.: sonoko's name came from one of the dazai osamu's actual children. saika translates to fortune with its kanji meaning happiness and the moon. it was inspired by the poems of upon the tainted sorrow and the moon of the actual nakahara chuuya, but i purposely alluded the name to happiness instead. lyubov means love, and it is also the name of one of the actual children of fyodor dostoevsky. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ꨄ˙ TAGGING.: @chuunai @aureatchi (っ'ヮ'c) ₊˚⊹♡ !

this is a queued post by the way . . .

1K notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 27 days

Text

“You Know That I'm Obsessed With Your Body ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, H.P. Lovecraft

Warnings; Suggestive, kisses, hickeys, bite marks, allusions to self harm (Dazai), sh scars (Dazai), prolly a little ooc

Description; BSD men and their physical attributes

A/n; CAS lyric title!!! But I cannot bring myself to write reqs RN so............but guys i actually talked to a guy OMG never thought I'd have big enough balls but I got his ig ^w^

⑅Chuuya Nakahara⑅

Chuuyas arms are beautiful to you, they're not insanely buff and they're not thin, but at a perfect equilibrium. They're decorated with intricate tattoos and beautiful colors, and sometimes small dotted lines left by your teeth or maroon spots formed by your love and passion for each other. You loved feeling them wrap around your torso or waist with him leaning his head against your back, letting all the thoughts in his mind flow from his mouth like a waterfall. Other times, he'd hang his arms over your shoulders, letting you feel his biceps against the nape of your neck, ghosting over the baby hairs on your skin. His arms can carry you too, no matter your weight. If it'd make you feel better, he'd use his ability to help and reassure you that he won't drop you or let you get hurt.

“There we go, darlin', see, I told you I wouldn't let you get hurt. Literally not even the strongest gust of wind could knock me over with you right now, so quit worrying.”

⑅Osamu Dazai⑅

Dazai has such a gorgeous torso, bandaged or not. His skin is soft on contrast to the rough and volatile life he's always lead. The only patches of skin that aren't smooth are the ones that are littered with past scars, whether self inflicted or from other people. When Dazai trusts you enough, he'll ask you to help him take off his bandages before bed, letting your fingers brush over the rigid bumps and sharply inhaling while adjusting to your sweet touch in a new, naked place. He lets you kiss the scars and it helps him feel a little relaxed receiving your acceptance through soft kisses and affection instead of being pitied or shamed for his past. It's not like you encourage it, but you don't waste your breath on lecturing him on why he shouldn't have. It's in the past, so instead you'll offer your support for him now rather than dwelling on what you can't change.

“Mmnn...your lips are so soft on my back, baby...keep going, sweetheart, you know how much I love feeling your kisses on my skin...”

⑅Nikolai Gogol⑅

Nikolais thighs could resurrect a dead man, and you couldn't help but feel the same way every time you had your head between or against them. Occasionally your hands would hold them apart and squeeze or grope at them, feeling the firmness beneath the palm of your hand. The pressure from your fingertips leaves temporary pale spots with every pinch and your teeth and tongue leave red ones in your wake as you kiss, suck, and bite all over his thigh, and he loves it. Nikolai loves the harsh feeling of your teeth clamping around his skin, making him gasp and giggle in excitement with a hand on your neck encouraging you to continue. He's got a higher pain tolerance, so if you like to give lovebites, especially on thighs, he's your guy.

“Ah-! Oh, don't worry dove, it doesn't hurt. You know I have a good pain tolerance! You can keep going, hehe, I don't mind it.”

⑅Fyodor Dostoevsky⑅

Fyodors hands are thin and pale aside from some select spots with higher blood concentration. His nails are bitten down to the quick almost always and his fingers are bony and thin. They rest gently on your hips when you sit on his lap while he types or just relaxes with you, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of either your top or bottoms. Sometimes they'll travel upwards, resting against your midsection and making you shiver from their low temperature. He'd laugh under his breath at your reaction and slide them further up, loving the idea that he has you squirming in his grasp. Otherwise, he'd keep a hand on your thigh, rubbing it out of habit modestly. In public he keeps his hands to himself, but in private his hands have a mind of their own.

“Are they that cold, Moya Lyubov? You'll get used to it eventually, unless you'd like to find your own way to warm my hands up?”

⑅Sigma⑅

Sigmas jawline is so defined and Everytime you look at it, an overwhelming urge to kiss along it bubbles up inside of you. Sigma doesn't dislike it, but he'll act like he does, always squirming and playfully grimacing. Eventually he'll give in though, holding your hand while you pepper soft pecks along his skin. He'll return them all over your cheeks and nose, tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can't help but watch Sigmas fingers trace over his jawline while he's deep in thought about this that and the other, admiring how perfect it looks on him.

“H-hey, knock it off, I'm in the middle of fillin' out papers! I said quit it- huff...fine, just a few though! You're really distracting, you know that?”

Bonus; ⑅ H.P. Lovecraft⑅

His hair is so long and luscious- how could you not want to run your fingers through it while your sleepy boyfriend lays his head in your lap? The upper half is smooth and straight while it changes into silky curls towards the bottom, though they're not the tightest and allow for your fingers to brush through them with minimal effort. He loves the feeling of your hands against his scalp, giving soft hums and groans of a relaxed pleasure. His face has his usual neutrality regardless of how nice it feels to get his head massaged by his lover. He frequently lets you pull it into a ponytail or put it into braids or whatever style you please. He lets you brush it, too, as long as you start at the bottom instead of ripping the brush through his hair.

“Mnn...that feels nice, dear...don't mind if I fall asleep on top of you, I can't help it.”

A/n; I feel so bad for not getting to requests, something like this was the easiest thing to do this week though because I had mock trial comp right after school so i couldn't write anything from 8am-7;30 pm some nights and it was the end of the quarter so i had to focus more on school work.

613 notes · View notes

bobattea · 7 months

Note

i would like to request a scenario for the bsd boys' (dazai, chuuya, atsushi and aku) reactions to their fem s/o having an intense orgasm. Like moaning loudly, squirming, shutting her eyes and throwing her head back (bonus points if they kiss her neck when she does)

Pairings: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya, Dazai and Fyodor (separate) x Fem!Reader Warnings: predator/prey, language, god complex, NSFW, praise, degradation, oral (F receiving), Edging, kinda rough? Word Count: 3575 A/N: I added Fyodor to this list also. I couldn't help myself :) I'm so sorry it took so long to write this it took me 3 days to write longer than I had liked but it sure was fun to write. I hope I did your request justice!

Akutagawa -

You took off in a sprint. Depending on how this night goes, you may or may not follow Akutagawa into a secluded area again. You avoid looking behind you, which would only slow you down.

“I’ll give you a head start, but you better run fast.” You recall the warning in his words and in the firm grip that he had on your arm. “Because once I've caught you, I’m going to fuck you.” His words replayed over and over in your head as you sprinted down the path, triggering a familiar feeling between your legs that was difficult to ignore. It was a quiet night; barely anyone else was around. Typical.

The more you ran, the more out of breath you became. The excitement and thrill were the only things keeping you going. He was going to catch up for sure, and if you had as much of a single break, you’d be a sitting duck, but you don't hear anything besides yourself panting with no clue as to where you are running or what Akutagawa has in store. As if on cue, Rashōmon had gotten ahold of your leg, dragging you back a short distance as Akutagawa walked at a steady pace in the direction you ran in. His gaze is no different from that of a predator stalking its prey, sending shivers down your spine the closer he gets to you.

“Was that the best you could do? I even gave you a head start.” His expression didn’t change as he pressed your face first against the wall and had his Rashōmon hold you in place. Akutagawa didn’t push you too hard; the last thing he wanted was to hurt your pretty face, but he did so with just enough impact to send a shock of excitement through your body. The rest was a haze until you felt the cold breeze on your bare skin and shreds of your clothes hit the floor. “I told you what would happen if I caught you.” Akutagawa bit your ear gently, then kissed your neck before burying his cock inside you. His nails dug into yours as he thrust into you at an unforgiving pace, leaving you no time to adjust to him.

“Fuck! Ryuu!” You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands are balling into fists against the wall. Akutagawa brings his head closer to your neck and bites down again with a low groan. He quickens the pace, and his thrusts become harder. “T-too much!” He doesn't listen to your words; you just egg him on.

“So fucking tight. Gonna ruin you.” He groans into your ear as he lifts one of your legs up to fuck you even deeper, the tip hitting your cervix repeatedly. The cold air didn't bother you anymore; you were far too hot as you approached your orgasm. You couldn't form words, just babbling noises as you squeezed your eyes shut again and moaned loudly, finally cumming around his cock. Akutagawa came not long after; he held you in that position while you both came down from your high, nothing but heavy breathing as you both caught your breath. “You can have my coat to walk back in.” Akutagawa rests his head on your shoulder, still panting.

“As if I had a choice." You gave a short laugh; there was no way you were walking home naked, and it was highly doubtful he would let you either.

Atsushi -

Atsushi was inexperienced, to say the least. You had to teach him all sorts of things, except tonight. Tonight you have no idea what changed, but Atsushi would not let you say anything, and if you even try to utter any words that weren’t his name and how good he makes you feel, he dives his tongue into your pussy. He holds your hips down to the bed and licks at your wet cunt as if he’d been starved,your legs shaking and threatening to clamp around his head if it weren’t for his arms forcing your legs open.

“Atsushi~” you whimpered while his tongue worked wonders on your clit, sending shocks throughout your body. His arms snake around your thighs, dragging you even closer to him to stop you from rocking your hips on his face.

“Fuckkkk, you taste so good, baby. I can’t get enough.” He almost didn’t even sound like your Atsushi; he was way too confident. Maybe that’s not the word for it right now, but your mind is a mess, only able to focus on how good Astushi’s tongue feels against you. You can’t even get a single word besides his name and a few broken sentences. Your fingers make their way into his hair as you arch your back in pleasure, only for Atsushi to stop briefly. “Hands by your side, baby,” he says, moving his way up your body to come face-to-face with you. You do as he says and put your arms by your sides, then he engulfs you in a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. “That’s a good girl.” You whimper at his words; this definitely was not your Atsushi, but you weren’t complaining either.

Atsushi kisses his way back down your body, starting with your neck, then down the valley of your breasts and your stomach, then he hovers over your cunt. You can feel his warm breath against your wet folds, but he avoids it all together and goes to kiss and bite at your thighs.

“Atsushi~ god please," you’re stopped halfway through your plea when Atsushi buries his face again between your legs, working his tongue in and out of your pussy. “Fuck!” you moan, arching your back again, and you grip the bed sheets tightly. Who knew he would be so skilled with his tongue? Not even you could teach him this. Somewhere through the bliss, his tongue was replaced with two of his fingers, and he sucked on your clit.You could feel yourself pushing yourself into bed, feeling the wave of pleasure as Atssushi pumps his fingers in and out of you while flicking his tongue over your clit repeatedly.

He loved hearing your breathless moans as he brought you to your release. It's all because of how good he’s making you feel all by himself, not you telling him what to do. Your reactions to him—your legs shaking, your walls clenching around his fingers, and your face flushing all because of him— You buck your hips once more, letting yourself cum all over Atsushi’s fingers with a loud moan of his name, but even after, he still slowly moves his fingers in and out.

"Where did you learn that?” You ask between breaths as you lie on the bed. Atsushi removes his fingers from your cunt and once again makes his way up to look at you face-to-face.

“I’ll tell you later, but we aren't done yet.” He looks down at you softly, his eyes still filled with desire, as you look back up at him, still recovering from your orgasm.

Chuuya -

“You look so pretty like this doll.” Chuuya stood at the foot of the bed, admiring you naked in all your glory with a red rope around your wrists and attached to the headboard with a silky blindfold over your eyes. You can feel the bed dip beside you and Chuuya learning over you, his voice next to your ear. “I wish you could see just how beautiful you look.” He kisses your temple. You hear the rustling of clothes and his belt hitting the floor. You squirm in anticipation of what Chuuya has in store for you.

Chuuya grips your legs and brings his face close to one of your thighs, his breath giving you goosebumps over your skin. He kisses your thighs gently and moves up your body. He kisses your stomach all the way to your breasts. You arch your back, feeling his lips around your nipple and his tongue running over the sensitive bud while his hand pinches and plays with the other one before he gives the same attention to the other one. “So perfect for me.” He lets go and continues his journey up, kissing your collarbones and each side of your neck until he hits your ear again. “Perfect for me to ruin.” He sits up and looks at your face. Your lip caught between your lips, the blindfold was still secure around your eyes, and there was a slight shine on your skin from the sweat due to the foreplay earlier.

You were relying on sound and touch alone to figure out what Chuuya’s next move would be, but he was so quiet, and his damn ability made it nearly impossible until he gripped your hips and positioned himself in front of your entrance. Chuuya teased your cunt with his cock before slowly pushing it inside you. You both moaned, then he started moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. He was going to take his time with you.

“God, you were made for me, doll. Fit me so perfectly.” You moaned loudly and squirmed each time his cock hit deeper inside of you, your hands holding tightly onto the rope for something to touch if you couldn't hold onto Chuuya. With your legs wrapping around Chuuya’s waist to try pushing him closer to you, he started to pound into you harder, but keeping at a slow pace, and you got louder each time his name fell from your lips. The ropes were giving off a burning sensation around your wrists. Each harsh thrust Chuuya gave you—a mixture of pain and pleasure—had you hissing and moaning at the same time.

“More Chuuya, please.” You beg; you wish you could see Chuuya, your imagination doing nothing for you, wanting to see Chuuya fall apart while he watches you fall apart too. Chuuya smiled smugly; he could feel you tighten around him. Your hips were lifted off the bed as he started to quicken the pace, slamming into you roughly.

“I feel you, darlin'; you're so close.” Chuuya was meant to take his time with you, but your pussycat was just too good not to lose control. His slow, sensual plan for the night definitely took a turn into more raw and rough passion. “Squeezin’ me so tight, baby.” Chuuya tosses his head back; he was not far behind.

“Chuuya! I'm going to cum!” You shouted in pure bliss; he was hitting all the right spots; he knew your pussy so well.

“Not far behind you, doll.” The two of you chased your highs, your moans joining in unison as you both cum together. "Fuck, baby, I really have no control when it comes to you.” Chuuya leans down and kisses your forehead.

Dazai -

'That sweet talking son of a bitch.’ You huff to yourself as you take your seat at your desk. His stupid idea was completely impractical, let alone utterly humiliating, and still you agreed. Dazai and his silver tongue—you could completely ruin his fun and just take it out now, and he would be none the wiser? Or maybe he knows you’ll do that? It's hard to outsmart Dazai. He knows you too well and speaks of the devil. He smiles warmly at you as he takes his seat across Kunikida and Atsushi. You watch as they all engage in conversation, waiting for Dazai to do something. How can he possibly think you’ll get any work done if you are on edge the whole day? Maybe that's his plan? To do nothing and keep you in a constant state of excitement and nervousness.

Then you see it. Dazai reaches for his pocket, and you can see the small black remote he hides under the table out of sight of Kunikida and Atsushi. You stare intently at the small black box in his hands. Your body tenses, waiting for the vibrations to start, but it doesn't happen. You can see the small, subtle smirk on his face as he listens to Atsushi. ‘Bastard’. He’s just playing with the remote in his hand, his thumb grazing over the button, threatening to push the very button that can ruin you within a second, and the thought of it is already making you wet. You were too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the three of them staring at you.

“Y/n? You there?” Atsushi looks at you with concern. You blink a few times, and you briefly look at Dazai, who’s wearing a dark smirk behind Kunikida and Atsushi.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You clear your throat, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Kunikida looks at you with a disappointed look for not listening to him in the first place.

“I was saying we have a meeting with a client at..." You could no longer hear Kunikida’s voice. The only thing you could register in that moment were the vibrations deep in your pussy. You gripped the table, your knuckles turning white as you pressed your legs together automatically. Your eyes were wide when you realized that he had pressed the button. Biting back a moan, you tried tuning Kunikida back in, but it was no use. “Y/n! Are you even listening to me?"The vibrator stopped, and you took a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I heard you. Sorry.” You force a smile, trying to play it off. Kunikida sighed but went back to his work, realizing he'd just be wasting more of his precious time on you if you weren't going to listen. You too went back to work after finally composing yourself, but you were still on edge because of Dazai, but holy hell did it feel good.

Eventually you had forgotten all about it, getting too engrossed in your work, and you had managed to meet with the client Kunikida had mentioned earlier. Your day was just starting until those vibrations started again out of nowhere. Your back arched and your hand slammed on the table as you took a sharp inhale at the pleasurable feeling, and you pressed your legs together again for some kind of friction. You noticed all eyes on you as soon as you did that, including Dazai, who had such an evil grin on his face. Your face turned pink out of embarrassment.

“S-sorry…cramps” You lie nervously, then try to go back to work, but Dazai doesn't turn the vibrator off; he keeps it going. Your hand is now subtly trying to cover your mouth as you try to prevent yourself from moaning, and your thighs are once again pressing and rubbing together for some kind of release. Dazai kept this up for the majority of the day, and somehow each time he knew when you would be close, he would just stop.

It was finally the end of the tortuous day, and you were the last one in the office, packing up your things. Then it started again, and thank God no one was around because you let out a moan that you had been holding in while you gripped the table again, bending over to steady yourself. Your legs felt like they could give out on you.

“You’ve been holding that one all day.” You can hear the amusement in his voice as he presses himself up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.”

“Dazai…Please” You moan louder; you just want him to stop leaving you on the edge of your orgasm. Dazai’s arms snake around your waist, his right hand traveling down the waistband of your skirt and passing your pants to rub circles on your clit.

“So wet," he murmurs into your ear, applying a little bit of pressure to your clit as he slowly continues to rub circles on it while the vibrator is still going. “And we haven't even gotten to the good part yet.” You let out a whimper as he kisses your neck.

"Dazai, please, let me cum.” Your voice was desperate, and your head rested on his shoulder as he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck. His fingers move a little faster on your aching clit, he just needs to say the words, and you’ll cum right then and there, but he keeps dragging it out, and you're nothing but a moaning mess. Your legs can't even hold you up with how shakey they are as you approach your orgasm.

“You can, Bella; you deserve that much.” He smirks as he presses his lips against your cheek as he helps guide you through your orgasm. The hand that isn't abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves went to his pocket to retrieve the little remote Dazai has become well acquainted with throughout the day.

“Dazai!” Letting out a strangled moan and biting your lip in pure bliss as you came around the vibrator that's been in your cunt all day. Dazai stops rubbing your clit and turns off the vibrator. Your chest is heaving, and a thin layer of sweat has formed on your forehead.

“That’s it, and like I said, that was only the beginning."

Fyodor -

Fyodor never looks at you, and if he does, he looks at you like you’re the dirt beneath his boot. Only on rare occasions like this would he ever look at you, however. Fyodor's gaze barely left the monitors that are stationed behind you. He was acting as if you weren’t bouncing yourself on his cock, his seemingly bored expression never changing, but he wasn't bored. No, not at all. Ignoring you was his way of encouraging you to try harder at getting his attention. You want Fyodor to look at you? To praise you? To grant you a mind-blowing orgasm? You’re going to have to try harder than that, and Fyodor is a patient man with an impressive amount of self-control, which you hate.

You’re struggling, to say the least. Your breathless moans fill the silence of the room as you continue to fuck yourself with Fyodor’s cock, rocking your hips as much as you can before bouncing up and down again, but it just wasn’t the same. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hands grip his arms, trying to chase your orgasm. You momentarily stop just to catch your breath to go again; doing this yourself was agonisingly painful. You just want Fyodor to take control of you right now so that you don't have to do it alone.

Fyodor knows you're struggling, and he finally looks at you. His gaze is one of amusement and pity at how pathetic you look, trying and failing at chasing your own orgasm like the slut you are without his help.

“Look at you, Myshka—you can’t even do something so simple by yourself.” He smirks as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. His hands trail down to your hips as he holds you in place before thrusting into you. You throw your head back and cry out as he thrusts himself deeper into you, your nails digging into his shoulders that are definitely going to leave marks. “You truly are pathetic, aren't you?” Fyodor will never praise you, no matter what you do. You know that now.

“Oh God! Fyodor!” You moan loudly and throw your head back as he continues to thrust into you, now fully in control of the pace, only half listening to the degrading things he’s saying to you as if they aren't true.

“That’s right, Myshka, I’m your god.” He holds your chin so that you’re looking at him. He wants to watch you completely fall apart on his cock. Fyodor continued to control your movements; they were fast-paced, leaving you barely a chance to catch your breath. “Eyes on me.” His tone is commanding yet almost condescending, as if you can’t even do that on your own.

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” You scream as pleasure washes over you as your walls squeeze his cock.

“That’s right, let everyone hear just how good your ‘god’ makes you feel.” He whispers in your ear as you chase your high. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder, breaking the skin and leaving crescent moon shapes at this point as you finally cum.

Your head rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath coming down from your high. You feel his hand grip your chin gently, making you look at him. Fyodor still has that look on his face—that you’re pathetic and worthless.

“There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He smirked down at you, his head tilted, then let go of your chin before looking back at the monitors again. You don't move; he didn’t ask, nor did he move you himself. So you sit there with his cock still embedded inside of you and your head back on his shoulder as you relax. He looked at you. The only time he will ever look at you, even for a few short minutes, is when his cock is buried in your cunt with nothing but degrading words spilling from his mouth. A few minutes later, you stay still, now fully calmed down. You feel his hand on your hair, and you expect him to grab a fist full for him to drag you off of him and toss you to the side like you meant nothing, but instead he strokes your head gently. “You did well, Myshka.”

1K notes · View notes

kolyasupremanxy · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰/ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 , 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 , 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥 , 𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲 , 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

𝐀/𝐧: I enjoyed writing this coz i love playing with ppl's hair lol, thanks anon! ANON HUHU SRY I accidentally deleted your request cuz i forgot to schedule it later and it got posted too soon so i deleted it TT. Sorryyy

—𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚

Chuuya leaned back on the couch, his head resting on his s/o's chest. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh as their fingers played with his hair. It was a feeling he had grown to love, and he couldn't resist the urge to let out a small chuckle.

"You really love playing with my hair, don't you?" he asked, a smirk on his lips.

His s/o smiled down at him, their fingers still tangled in his hair. "Of course I do. It's so soft and silky, and it looks amazing when it's styled."

Chuuya couldn't help but feel a little bashful at the compliment, but he was also secretly pleased. He tilted his head back a little further, allowing his s/o better access to his hair.

"You know, you're the only one I let do this," he said, his voice softening.

His s/o's hand stilled for a moment before continuing their gentle strokes. "Really? Why's that?"

Chuuya chuckled. "Because it's just for you. I don't want anyone else touching my hair like this."

His s/o smiled down at him, their eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I feel honored then."

Chuuya let out a small laugh before tilting his head up to look at his s/o. "You know, I love it when you play with my hair like this. It's so relaxing and calming. It's like you're lulling me to sleep."

His s/o smiled softly at him. "That's the idea. I want you to feel calm and relaxed."

Chuuya closed his eyes again, his breathing steady and calm. He was so comfortable in this position, and he knew he could stay like this forever. He was glad that his s/o loved playing with his hair, and he couldn't imagine anyone else doing it quite like they did.

—𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

Dazai snuggled closer to his s/o, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. He let out a contented sigh, feeling relaxed and at ease in her arms. He loved the way her touch felt against his scalp, the gentle tugs and pulls sending shivers down his spine.

"Your hair is so soft, Dazai," she said, her fingers continuing to run through his hair.

Dazai chuckled. "I'm glad you think so. I've always taken good care of it."

"I can tell," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

Dazai closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of her fingers, letting himself get lost in the moment. He felt safe and happy, knowing that he was loved and cared for. He shifted slightly, snuggling even closer to her and resting his head on her chest.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she continued to play with his hair. Dazai let out another sigh, feeling completely content and at peace.

"Thank you for doing this," he said, his voice soft and quiet.

"For playing with your hair?" she asked.

"For everything," Dazai replied. "For being here for me, for loving me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

His s/o smiled and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "I'll always be here for you, Dazai. No matter what."

Dazai smiled and closed his eyes, feeling grateful and blessed to have her in his life. He knew that he could always count on her, and that thought brought him a sense of peace that he had never known before.

—𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥

Nikolai's s/o brushed her fingers through his hair, playing with the long braid that rested on his chest.

Nikolai let out a contented sigh and shifted his head, getting comfortable in his s/o's embrace. "You always know how to make me feel relaxed," he said.

His s/o smiled softly. "Your hair is so soft and nice to play with. It's like running my fingers through silk."

Nikolai chuckled. "I take good care of it. It's important to keep it in good condition."

"I can tell," his s/o replied. "It's always so shiny and smooth."

Nikolai hummed in agreement, enjoying the soothing sensation of his s/o's fingers running through his hair. "You know, I never used to let anyone touch my hair like this," he said. "But with you, it feels natural and comforting."

"I'm glad," his s/o said. "I love being close to you like this."

Nikolai closed his eyes and relaxed, savoring the feeling of his s/o's gentle touch. It was moments like this that made him feel truly content and at peace.

—𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲

Fyodor shifted slightly on his s/o's chest, adjusting his position so that he could continue reading comfortably.

His s/o's fingers ran through his hair, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"I could do this all day," his s/o said with a contented sigh.

Fyodor opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I wouldn't mind that," he said softly, placing a bookmark in his book and setting it aside.

His s/o smiled down at him, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. "You have such soft hair, Fyodor," she said.

Fyodor tilted his head back slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. "I'm glad you like it," he said.

His s/o leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead before resuming her ministrations. "It's relaxing, you know?" she said. "Just sitting here with you, playing with your hair."

Fyodor closed his eyes again, letting out a soft hum of agreement. "It is," he said. "I feel...content."

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company. Fyodor's s/o continued to play with his hair, and he continued to relax into her touch.

Finally, Fyodor spoke up. "Thank you for being here with me," he said.

His s/o looked down at him, a soft smile on her lips. "Always," she said. "I'll always be here for you."

Fyodor reached up and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. "I'm grateful for that," he said. "Truly."

—𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚

Sigma was comfortably lying on his s/o's chest, his long hair fanned out around him as his s/o played with the soft strands. He was engrossed in the book he was reading, but he couldn't help but smile contentedly at the feeling of his s/o's gentle touch on his hair. It was one of the many small things he loved about their relationship.

As his s/o continued to play with his hair, Sigma let out a small sigh of contentment. "You know, I could get used to this," he said, glancing up at his s/o with a smile.

His s/o chuckled softly. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. I love playing with your hair."

Sigma closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of his s/o's fingers running through his hair. "It's so relaxing," he murmured. "I feel like I could fall asleep right here."

His s/o laughed again, their fingers continuing to work through the tangles in Sigma's hair. "Well, if you do, I promise to keep you safe," they said teasingly.

Sigma chuckled softly, snuggling closer to his s/o. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, the warmth of his s/o's body seeping into his own.

For a while, the two of them simply lay there in silence, the only sound the turning of pages as Sigma read his book. But eventually, Sigma set his book aside, turning to look up at his s/o with a smile.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For everything. I love you."

His s/o smiled back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Sigma's forehead. "I love you too," they said, their fingers never stopping their gentle movements through Sigma's hair. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And with those words, Sigma closed his eyes, feeling safe and content in his s/o's arms. He knew that no matter what happened in life, he would always have his s/o by his side, ready to offer comfort and support whenever he needed it. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

Do Not Copy or Plagiarize Any of My Works. Reblogs Are Very Appreciated.

3K notes · View notes

chuunai · 4 months

Note

Hi hi! Would love to participate in your event if that’s cool

I was wondering if we could hav a Fyodor with scenario 2 and prompt 14

Idk if you want more details but I discovered your blog and I kinda got baby fever too sooooooo

Fire away friend

I’m sorry for making you sick : (

✧˚ · . my days are yours, yours - fyodor dostoevsky

how can a baby control his heart?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), babies, babies and babies, SFW → minor mentions of death and overall fyodor trying to be a daddy while juggling killing the entire world. Spoilers for the last episode of BSD season five and the latest chapters of the manga.

Lord, she looked so much like him.

Rounded purple eyes and thick strands of black hair, she was his copy. Of course, genetically speaking, she was half his. And half yours. But Fyodor had a greater influence on your baby daughter. A squirming seven month old named Avdotya Fyodorovna Dostoevskya. Ironic, wasn’t it? That his child’s name meant good while he was evil?

It made sense, though. Yin and yang.

Putting down his pen, Fyodor looked over at the small makeshift crib that was next to his desk. In it was the sleeping Avdotya—Dunya, for short—wrapped up in cozy blankets and stuffed animals.

He’d worked enough for today.

Carefully picking up the newborn, his pale anemic hands cradled her, supporting her head as he held her to his chest. His heart sped up a bit when Dunya stirred a bit, but she ultimately didn’t wake up. She looked so calm and content in the moment. Fyodor shared the same feelings. Besides awe, of course.

For all of his planning and manipulation, he had never planned for a baby.

Sure, you were his wife, but he’d always use protection. An infant wouldn’t work with his current dangerous plans. Yet he somehow managed to knock you up. A completely unplanned variable in his plans. Yet it seemed so right. As a man of god, Fyodor couldn’t deny the blessing that God gave him.

His study door soon freaked open by your arrival as you quietly walked behind him, arms sliding around his neck in a tired way as your cheek pressed against the fluffy material of his ushanka.

“She’s doing okay?”

As if his little angel would ever be harmed.

“Of course, дорогой.”

He replied in an equally hushed tone. He turned his head slightly to the left, placing a gentle peck on your arm affectionately. For someone who regularly manipulated people who trusted him (albeit in a scared way), he could never find himself using you or his newfound family for his plans. God would disapprove of a man who hurt his family.

“You should rest. I’ll watch over her.”

It was only fair.

You had been watching Dunya constantly—babysitters and nannies couldn’t be hired due to his prolific crime record—while he was gone setting up his plans and relations. Fyodor had seen you cry over the stress multiple times. Each time he reassured you all would be better in due time. And it would be. When all the sinners of the world were gone, angels like you and Avdotya would be safe.

In the meantime though, he’d make you as happy as he could.

Feeling a gentle kiss on his cheek, Fyodor faintly smiled as you left for some much needed relaxation and sleep. Tucking his baby’s hair behind her tiny ears, he hummed a small lullaby.

He remembered that as a child his mother would sing some to him. It was one of the few comforting memories he had.

And his Avdotya should have the same experience.

Reaching the second verse of the lullaby, his deep voice quietly filled the room. He slowly rocked his baby, warmth flooding through his usually cold body. A peck on her perfect head.

He’d have to teach you these sorts of lullabies and cradle songs. While you knew a bit of Russian—limited to affectionate nicknames and general greetings—, you could do better. Perhaps you two could study together when Avdotya would nap. Him struggling with kanji, and you resting your head on his shoulder as you stared at Russian characters and committed them to memory.

Fyodor relaxed back into his chair, content with the familial moment.

The finale soon came.

He sat there for minutes afterwards, just taking in the sight of the life he created. Dazai was wrong. Fyodor was no demon, no, he was a god. He had created life, and so had God. And while others may point out the billions of other parents in the world, he’d merely dismiss their claims. They had birthed normal children.

Not an angel like his Dunya.

Could other children have such awe-inspiring eyes? Or the affinity she had for music just like her father—how she babbled and cooed in your lap while he played cello for the two of you. He knew she’d grow up to be something great like him. A firstborn always took after their father, in his opinion.

Standing up with little Avdotya in his arms, he walked to the nursery, passing by your shared bedroom where you were sleeping by now. Creaking open the door, he carefully navigated the dark room, lowering his daughter into her crib before carefully covering her with a warm blanket and her favorite stuffed toy.

A fuzzy penguin gifted by Sigma.

A lot of the nursery’s decorations were bought by Fyodor, but there were a few given by his fellow DOA members. Sadly, a majority of Nikolai’s gifts had to be scrapped. Dunya couldn’t use clown makeup or the miniature cherry bombs. A pity, really.

Fatherhood suited Fyodor rather well.

Flicking on a small nightlight, he soon left after a goodbye to his daughter. His footsteps pattered on the wooden floor, making his way to your bedroom to finally sleep off the day’s events.

Once again, the door slowly creaked open as he walked in. He already had his pajamas on—a baggy long black shirt and some black pants—, sliding into bed next to you as one hand found itself on your stomach, the other already playing with your hair. Fyodor admired your body. It grew his angel, and now it nourished her.

While you were adamant that you looked worse after birth, he could only say the opposite. All of the Renaissance paintings and sculptures had been wrong in their depictions of goddesses and heavenly figures. He could only see you as a true goddess who fell for a sinner like him.

Would such a goddess permit him to have another child with her?

Fyodor had grown up in a small family back in St. Petersburg. Just him and his mother. His father had left him long ago.

He didn’t want Avdotya to feel the same. Lonely.

Siblings would prevent that. Maybe two? Even three, if you felt up for it. He hadn’t said anything about it since you were still recovering and getting used to being a mother just to one child, but he oh so badly wanted a bigger family. More look a-likes of him and you.

“My goddess.”

His lips nuzzled against your hair, murmuring sweet affections and praise. Even he couldn’t have predicted such a thing like this. A wife. A daughter. A family of his own.

And even when weeks later he was stuck in Meursault with four other men playing Nikolai’s twisted game of escape, he thought about you. The plan would work, and he’d see you again after he faked his death. Sure, it might take weeks or months, but he’d come back. He’d made sure of it—having thought of the betrayal of his subordinates a while ago.

And when Dazai would later tug his severed arm out of the helicopter’s crash site, it wouldn’t have a ring on the ring finger.

That ring would be snugly set on his other hand.

They could take his body, his wealth, his intelligence.

But they couldn’t take him away from you and the vow you two had made. Until death do you part.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

Help this took so long

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #baby fever #baby fic #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd tag #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #bsd spoilers

431 notes · View notes

delusionalwriter02 · 21 days

Text

“I know your secret”

Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya, Yosano, Ranpo x F!Reader

a/n : hello!! I had this idea yesterday at like 2am I NEEDED to write it, hope you like it!

280 notes · View notes

honeydazai · 2 years

Text

since i'm currently busy and still working on a new post, it's a great time to promote my fics!

— Pretty Savage, in which a fight against Scaramouche suddenly turns sexual. 18+, fem!reader, warning for violence and for Scaramouche being a sadistic jerk.

— Birthday Wish, in which Ranpo wants you to wear a maid dress for his birthday. 18+, fem!reader, praise kink, dominant Ranpo.

— Heavenly Principles, in which Fyodor fucks you in public after you let Nikolai choose your Halloween costume. 18+, fem!reader, Fyodor is a jerk and Nikolai watches you fuck, some humiliation

— Lovely, Lovely, in which Viktor feels insecure and you show him just how much you love him. 18+, fem!reader, body worship, pretty fluffy.

— Warm Wisps, in which Viktor forgets about Valentine's Day and makes it up to you through fucking you in a library. Little do you know, however, that you're not as alone as you had thought. 18+, fem!reader, semi public sex

— (almost) like a prayer, in which priest!Jayce fucks a succubus reader in a church and makes her atone for her sins. 18+, fem!reader, religious imagery, breeding, size difference

583 notes · View notes

osachiyo · 5 months

Note

can we talk about sugar daddy fyodor too?

white lace ・ fedya ─── f!reader . sugar daddy!fedya hcs (?) approx 0.7k ᘎᘏ cw n/sfw mindbreak dark content naïve!reader manipulation use of the word daddy etc (mdni)

sugar daddy!fyodor who just wants a... distraction from everything. being a genius terrorist is hard, y'know? he's human after all, and as much as he hates to admit it− everyone has certain urges they desire to fulfill, no?

sugar daddy!fyodor who gets forced by nikolai to go to a bar, "have some fun!", the magician said− only to ditch the sickly russain man after having a few drinks, making out with a 'ditzy blonde bitch' as nikolai called her, in a secluded corner of the bar.

sugar daddy!fyodor who is annoyed, frustrated even. the place smelled like sweat and sex, people messily grinding onto each other and dancing provocatively− he hated it. but then you come by, and immediately catch his eye. you're a shy girl− but he manages to strike up a conversation with you smoothly. you're a college student, struggling to juggle two side jobs to pay for your tuition fees and study at the same time. it's pitiful, really. but as you were talking, voiced slurred from the drinks he bought you− fyodor couldn't help but notice how.. attractive you were. the way your tits bounced every time you moved, or the way he could see your cleavage from his point of view.your glossy lips parting as huffed breaths escaped you− you'd make a good toy for him, really.

sugar daddy!fyodor who decides, that he would take mercy upon you. he liked you. that's why he proposed that he'd pay for your tuition fully, even take care of your other needs− you just have to do something in return for him as well. and in the midst of your drunked haze, the proposal sounded heavenly. he made you sign a contract and everything− even getting your fingerprint on it. you thought the contract was only about him taking care of your needs and you doing something in return for him. but only if you weren't drunk− if you read the paper more clearly, if only you were so naïve− you'd see it officially labels you as "fyodor dostoyevsky's property".

sugar daddy!fyodor who only grins when you ask him what you had to do in return, combing a slender hand through your hair as he tells you not to worry about it for now.

sugar daddy!fyodor who actually keeps his word, paying off your student loans fully as well as buying you everything you desire. even though you had no idea where the money was coming from, and he'd refused to tell you multiple times− you couldn't bring yourself to really care as you practically glowed in happiness, seeing your wardrobe− the multiple designer bags, designer clothes and accessories he had gifted you. it was...addicting, much like the mysterious man himself.

sugar daddy!fyodor who finally, finally indulges himself after making you believe that you're indebted to him and you owe him your life, your career− you as a whole.

sugar daddy!fyodor who buys you the most beautiful, expensive set of lingerie− the white lace complimenting your complexion with utter perfection. "you look angelic, my dear," he'd say in a honeyed tone, caressing your sides in faux affection but you miss the way his voice holds an edge to it− the way his lavender eyes now darkened to a much, much darker tone as he relishes in the way the white lace hugs your curves perfectly− accentuating all parts of your body so nicely. it made him want to rip the clothing off of you− forcefully having his way with you and leaving you a crying, debauched mess and..but he figures that's a thought for later.

sugar daddy!fyodor who takes his time unraveling your intricate lingerie, peeling off the layers with delicate but chewed up fingers as you flush and giggle at receiving his attention. he'd kiss each and every part of your body; your face, neck, collarbones, chest, god those perky tits of yours, your stomach, thighs, calves then slowly make his way between your legs, head resting against the meat of your thigh as you twitch and flutter your eyes in need. he'd purposely miss the spot where you needed him the most, only smiling at the way you don't even ask him to, just patiently waiting until he wants to fuck that pretty cunt of yours.

sugar daddy!fyodor who feels...powerful at having you under his mercy like this− all sprawled out and cunt leaking, ruining the pretty lace but you don't dare tell him to touch you, patiently waiting for him even if it makes tiny tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. this is why he chose you− you know your place and don't dare go out of your lane. so he figures he might as well give into you now.

sugar daddy!fyodor who has you fully nude underneath him, your chest heaving as he traces a finger up and down your slit, your legs struggling to stay open from his feather light but teasing touches. his finger circling your sweet little clit in a clockwise motion before switching to the other way− watching as your brows furrow and lips part to let out noises that one would only describe as sinful. but he loved it− oh so loved it how you whimpered his name with utter neediness, hips bucking up into his hand only to get pushed back down, the older man's smooth but rich voice telling you to be patient, won't you be a good girl for daddy?

sugar daddy!fyodor who'd only prepare you half-heartedly. he, too, was growing impatient while torturing you with the slight touches that he couldn't help but press a soft kiss to your clit before pulling his fingers out and quickly replacing them with his cock.

sugar daddy!fyodor who'd watch the way your pussy sucked him in, bottoming out inside of you with a wet 'pop!' he'd pick you up in his lap and lean against the headboard, breath hitched as you clenched and unclenched around him.

sugar daddy!fyodor who'd only grin smugly when you look at him through your pretty lashes in confusion. he'd only sigh and mock you for being such a dumb little girl, "silly girl. I buy you all these luxuries and I have to put in work even in the bedroom? tsk, tsk."

sugar daddy!fyodor who watches you sputter and apologize, lips jutted out to a cute little pout as you try and lift your hips, only to slam back down on his throbbing cock. your eyes would be on him the entire time− god, was he beautiful. baby hairs sticking to sweaty his forehead as he sighed out uneven breaths, a flush covering his face to the base of his neck, brows furrowed as thin lips part to let out soft moans while he tips his head back− revealing his collarbones and neck for you to press sweet kisses on, your smudged lipstick leaving stains on his milky skin.

sugar daddy!fyodor who'd watch as you hop on his dick, breaths bouncing with each move and just begging him to twist and pull your perked nipples. and he did− shaky fingers gently caressing the soft fat of your tits, ever so softly circling around your buds before landing three swift smacks on each of them− making you cry out and halt your movements, only to have him thrust up into you from below, calling you a "pathetic slut who can't even do such a simple request".

sugar daddy!fyodor who tells you to rub that little clit of yours yourself. you want him to do it? no, why should he? you're lucky he even gave you the permission to cum in the first place− don't forget you're his property, nothing more, nothing less.

sugar daddy!fyodor who agrees to stay and cuddle for the night after you're finished, even reluctantly letting you apply your ridiculously expensive skincare products on him− that he spent a hefty amount of cash on.

sugar daddy!fyodor who leaves early in the morning− but not before leaving a fat stack of money on the bedside table; a silent order for you to buy some white lacey lingerie, and of course− treat yourself with the rest.

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

a/n : THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A 400 WORD DRABBLE BUT THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I WRITE FOR FYODOR. anyway...I hoped y'all enjoyed <3

TAGS »»————> @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorahatsumi @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @hannzai @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @poisonedslop @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @boba-is-good @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter @4xxxv @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @qqingque @lunaeheroine18 @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @leftrunawaybanana @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @otakudul @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

524 notes · View notes

cryslut · 5 months

Text

Yan BSD Men - Lengths

「 Fyodor ~ Chuuya ~ Dazai ~ Tetchou ~ Jouno ~ Nikolai 」

- in which the bsd men cast go to certain lengths to be with you

- gender neutral reader

- content warning: yandere themes, mentions of: manipulation, torture, murder, mental, emotional n physical abuse, etc

(some of this may potentially be out of character)

not proofread so possibly grammatical errors.

↳ Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor is one of those men who just love to play around with what is his. When he sees what he wants, it will be his. And that goes for you. Since he's very calm in any situation he ends up in. He happens to remain his composure completely around you. You belong to him. You just don't know it yet.

The things he does just to get you to be his is almost anything. He doesn't show his emotions all while doing so either to throw you off if you ever noticed or took hint what was going on.

He found his way to manipulate you into joining alongside him in the 'Rats in the House of the Dead'. That way he'd be closer to you than he was before, which mostly consisted of him stalking you from time to time. He had to keep an eye on what was his after all, right?

He eventually took action into his own hands, he wanted to get close to you as much as he could. He just had to draw you in. So the best way to do that, was for him to drag you around wherever he went doing whatever he was doing. Almost like it was your newest job and it had to be done and fulfilled by you, being his newest partner.

You of course obeyed his every word, cause he was your boss after all, and you had to obey him. Plus the chance of a lifetime was being able to work alongside him as a partner. At least that's what everyone thought and what everyone strongly truly believed. You however didn't have a full opinion.

But Fyodor knew this and he would soon make you believe the same. Pulling you in more and more. Wrapping you around his finger until eventually you really fell for him.

But in the meantime, he's just going to have to stick to what he's been doing for a while. Keeping you around as much as he can. Making sure you're safe. And best of all make sure that he can make you his, he wouldn't stop until he achieved this after all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya has lost a lot, and knowing this fact he was solely convinced of the fact that he would lose you too. So this made him very crazy when it came to you. He would find any way to make sure you were around him at all costs.

After joining the Port Mafia, he grew a strong interest in you and eventually you two were paired up for an assignment so this gave him a window of opportunity to get closer to you than he was before. On said assignment, he made sure you were okay at all times but all the while trying not to completely show it because he didn't wanna seem like he cared too much.

Chuuya overtime had such an unhealthy obsession with you it drove him insane. Seeing people trying to get near you really drove him towards the edge — making him want to kill said people. If someone hurt you or attempted to, they would get their ass handed to them. He'd always be there for you for certain things.

He'd try not to show it but eventually it would through his actions when those that get in the way that were a threat would disappear without nearly any trace. And those who tried to do anything bad to you, he'd either blackmail or just kick them to the curb. He's super overprotective overall.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Dazai Osamu

Dazai like his usual normal self is very flirty with you — and seems just overall sweet like his usual self. After you joined the Armed Detective Agency, getting to work with the brunette haired man, it came abundantly clear to himself that he was really fond of you. He was starting to have deep strong feelings for you that grew into an unhealthy obsession.

This led him to doing things just for you. He'd of course keep you safe, he'd find whatever ways he could to protect you. He's a confident man so his confidence really hid the fact well — that he was doing everything in his power to keep you for himself. His protection turned into manipulation. Then his manipulation turned into a violent need to hurt those who you always got into fights with you.

He's able to persuade you in any way and you fall for it everytime. You fall for his tricks, his lies, his manipulative behavior, everything he does though is for you, right? His need for you is his reason for his need for blood shed and doing things you would never imagine him doing. But again, it's all for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Tetchou Suehiro

Tetchou is a little different than the others, he doesn't seem like he'd be into anyone but he grows quite the thing for you. After you ended up becoming apart of the hunting dogs, he admired you for your hard work and dedication towards the cause. He also admired you for your strength and your abilities.

But overtime this normal admiration turned into him being in love with you, obsessed with you. This man is more of a strong need for justice type so he doesn't use murder to get with you. He doesn't use lame tactics like manipulation either.

His admiration went from obsession which meant he would be very overprotective over you, making you feel safe with him more and more — in case there was never a fight you couldn't handle, he'd be there to protect you. He'd be there to help you through it. He tends to get himself closer to you by spending more time with you, alone time to be precise. He'd take you out on little friendly dates for brunch or something of the like. These dates were more than friendly for him — as for you, you weren't aware.

He'd make you help him train which in return he'd help you train. Making you stronger so he'd make sure if there was ever a moment you needed to be safe — your strength alone would be enough. In case he wasn't there to protect you, to help you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Jouno Saigiku

This man looks so sweet but on the inside he can be quite sadistic in nature, enjoying the thought of messing with his victims in the worst way. This is usually the case with criminals — but when he met you, this quickly changed. He didn't really care who it would be, he would hurt whoever just about got in his way of you two being together.

After you joined the hunting dogs, you got close with some of the members and he was fine for a while until eventually an obsession grew for you. His undying love sunk in and he became the worst.

And if you did something he did not like that would upset him, he'd keep his normal composed attitude in the light — his very dark hint of his personality however was there, you just didn't see it. If you don't do what he wants he will threaten it out of you. He will find any thing he can use to his advantage to get you to be willing to do as he demands.

It could be threats to your loved ones, to you, to your friends, to anyone you deem close to you. He will threaten and blackmail you to his hearts content if it gets you to listen.

His other methods would also include hurting you. Torturing you in any way he could. Whether that be mentally or emotionally or just physically if it ever got to that point. He'd mostly mess with your head. Psychological torture was best fitting because he wouldn't want to hurt his beloved, now would he? He'd be so upset if he ever had to lay a hand on you but he always tried his best not to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Nikolai Gogol

This man is so cheerful at times and it throws you off a lot. He always has to question you alot and annoy you with his usual quizzes. He was like this towards you when you first met him. After meeting Fyodor and becoming a member of the Decay of Angels — he found you quite the interesting one.

That little small interest eventually grew into him having strong deep feelings for you, and he realized this too. Overtime his quizzes got more frequent, his happiness got more loud and obnoxious. He was around you way too often. He practically clung to you. You just brushed it off as Nikolai being Nikolai.

But eventually when the jealousy kicked in when it came down to you, the rage did too. Anyone who tried to harm you, threaten you, or even flirt with you — this man did not like it one bit. Every single person who flirted with you disappeared. Every person who would harm or threaten you — would soon meet a terrible fate.

This man would constantly use his ability to torture them while laughing as it was happening. He didn't care cause he was doing it all for you. It was all because he loved you, he adored you, he wanted you, he needed you — and he was gonna have you.

He wasn't going to stop there until everyone who was an obstacle in his path would be gone, would feel every ounce of pain he could give them. He'd mess with his victims mentally and physically with his ability. Asking trick questions just so they felt like they'd got the answer right but in the end they didn't and he could hurt them all he wanted.

811 notes · View notes

aureatchi · 3 months

Text

ᰔ 𓂃 ࣪˖ FOR ONCE, I WAS THE MUSE IN THE ARTIST’S EYES; I WAS THE POEM ON THE POET’S TONGUE. . . ft. FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

⟢ PRÉCIS. it only took a singular person to make you feel like, for once—in a sea of murals and sculptures, you were the one sought after. OR, after months of admiring the other in silence, it is on your birthday when someone finally makes a move—on a rainy day in the heart of renaissance history.

. ࿓ a museum date with fyodor dostoevsky.

ᡴꪫ a/n. little late but…written for my birthday! plain self indulgent djsjjw.

ᡴꪫ info. fem!reader. bestfriends to lovers. pining. soft fyodor. light angst; fluff. confessions. kissing. reader overthinks a lot. you’re on vacation in florence, italy. history/art rambles-mentions religious imagery & greek mythology. sly…fyodor pulled many strings here. you both do art. mention of implied dazai. save this for ur bday :-). ﾉ wc. 3.7k+

“How do I explain it? I feel…I’m always the artist, always the poet. Never the muse, never the poem—that sounds dismal, I know…I have friends, people who care about me, and have fallen in love before, so I know I can love. But that’s me. Most times, I’m the photographer, I’m the giver, I’m the lover—never in pictures to be cherished, never the receiver of love letters: never the beloved. It probably doesn’t make sense to you, but-”

“You must also think you are perceived, never understood?” The keen ravenette sitting beside you listening added to your homology.

“Yes. Does no one wonder about the artist? No one notices that they long to be adored, too? Or perhaps I am projecting—maybe it’s just me. Sorry for my babbling, Fedya. My mind is all over the place right now.”

“...Do you fancy someone currently, by chance? That’s causing the negativity of your internal monologue to surface?”

He was always too straightforward. Yet somehow, he also always nailed the target of your distress.

“Sort of. He would never reciprocate, though.” You dryly chuckled. “The thought has me feeling lonely overall, unfortunately. And before you tell me I’m dramatic, I’ve had feelings for him for quite a while.”

“Hm.” Violet eyes focused on your glowing frame until now cascaded to the candle that illuminated the both of you. “If it’s that brunette you’ve been around lately, I’m sure he’d feel the same.”

“What?”

“I’d actually hope it’s him—I feel he’d make you happy.”

You simply sighed. “And this is why.”

“Why, what? Do you doubt he would reciprocate your feelings because he would fulfill your happiness? You’re self sabota-”

“Nevermind, let’s just change the subject. Please.”

…

It had been months ago since that chippy conversation was spoken within the walls of your apartment. Like the dusk of the room at the time, the words you said to each other had also been left in the dark.

However, even though the question of what you meant that night was never brought up again, the entire dialogue replayed like a film on loop in your head every other night you tried to fall asleep.

You honestly didn’t know what to call Fyodor. He was everything a best friend, but that title didn’t acknowledge and frame the emotional dynamic you had with him justly.

It was odd. He was always there for you—since university when he first showed up as a transfer and quickly made it apparent he was challenging you for the top of the class. It wasn’t intentional at first—until he found out you wanted to outsmart to beat him.

Your intense rivalries and teasing eventually settled down into a close friendship, and you’d grown to admire him. Lies—you admired him the moment you saw how well the foreigner spoke your language so well.

Fyodor had seen you at your worst. Through your breakdowns due to school, when you got sick, and whenever you just needed to talk…you didn’t hide anything from him. It didn’t feel like you could because no matter how many times you expressed aloud that no one could understand you, he did.

He grasped onto your emotions like strings that grounded you back to reality. He being there let you feel not so lost in your head and sentiments. It was as if he knew your entire soul by a single glance. That was the true reason why he became the prince in your reveries and the fixation in your unsent journal entries.

Though, he never talked heartrendingly himself. He never showed even a fourth of the vulnerability you let him access so freely. And that’s why Fyodor would never reciprocate, even if he also hadn’t plain-out said you would be a good match with someone else, sealing proof of his uninterest.

He wasn’t the best person in the world—you knew he had grandiose plans that were morally questionable, so sometimes you wondered if you were simply a step in his achieving them, nothing more.

Knowing if so, why did his face still cover your sketchbooks and prose?

…

You were woken up by the faint vibrations of your phone.

Happy birthday!

How fast time passes! Birthday messages were sent in by friends and acquaintances. You would be celebrating with them this weekend, but for now, you were halfway across the world.

Sporadically, you were on a solo trip to Florence, Italy. A few weeks ago, the airline rewards program you were a part of emailed you saying you were eligible for an entirely free trip to the country with an exclusive ticket to the Uffizi Gallery.

Although it was entirely out of the blue, it was a lovely surprise. It was no shock you loved art—you and Fyodor both.

“You draw?”

“Yes. Did you think I was not the type of person to?”

“I’m not sure,” you replied. You were still in university at the time—it was well past midnight, and everyone else had left the library you were at but you and Fyodor. You had noticed him take out a sketchpad, standing out from scholastic books. “I could never see you taking an art major, but you’re also practically able to do everything, so it’s not even shocking.”

He simply smiled. “I’m probably not as refined as you.” Fyodor stopped his sketching and then looked at you. “But you never show me your own drawings.”

You averted your gaze. You couldn’t show them—not when almost half of them starred him.

“Show me yours first,” you spoke.

“Someday," he smiled.

…

The special ticket to the museum allowed you to skip the line—and the crowds too. You would be let in early morning so that you could enjoy your first couple of hours admiring the paintings in serenity.

Ring!

Someone was calling you, not through your cell phone but the telephone. You stood up from the bed in your Airbnb—the company had even given you a vacation rental that was more than enough for one person. You swore you won some secret lottery for this to happen. Multiple rooms, a balcony—you walked through them all. Except for one, it was locked. It was likely storage for the owner.

“Hello?” you picked up the phone.

“How was your rest?” a recognizable voice chimed.

“...Fedya?”

“Are you up yet? Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Uhm, sure?” you responded, bemused. How did he know you were staying here? You had told him you were going to Italy, and he had even helped you clean your home before you left, but you didn’t specify everything about it.

“Go to the dresser from across the bed and open the first drawer. There should be something inside.”

Okay, now this was weird.

“Did you plan this ou-”

The phone suddenly hung up before you could finish your question. For a moment, you just stood in the room, still lost. You moved when another buzz went off on your phone, a text message from Fyodor.

Would you meet me at this cafe in thirty minutes? Bring an umbrella, it’s raining.

And your suspicion was confirmed when he sent the address. He, too, was in Florence, and the cafe was close to the Uffizi Museum.

I’ll be there. :)

You walked towards the dresser and opened the drawer that Fyodor instructed. There was only one thing—a silver key necklace.

I guess this is his birthday present. You smiled to yourself, clasping the jewelry around your neck. He played with your heart so fondly. Did Fyodor not realize how much he was driving you crazy with the sweet things he did?

Or perhaps he did. And you were foolish for feeling this way when you knew he did not feel the same.

…

“Buongiorno dolcezza.”

“Showing off your linguistics?” you playfully scoffed, sitting in front of Fyodor by the window. You could hear the faint pat-pat-pat sounds of the rain outside, even through the buzz of the cafe.

“I said, ‘dobroye utro,’” further rousing your response with a smug smile. You had allowed his ego to speak.

"Good morning," he said, you thought. “Good morning, Fedya.”

“Was everything alright so far? Your flight?”

“You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Hm?” In the slightest way, it was almost like he was taken aback.

“This is so elaborate. I’m truly grateful, please don’t get me wrong, but you did all this for me—and it’s not like I’m that special. It’d be more appropriate for someone you were dati-”

“Hello miss, would you like anything to order?” A waiter stood before you, cutting you off. He spoke in Italian—you could barely understand him.

Fyodor responded for you—In Italian, too—and you were able to pick up your usual order and something about “…mia amata.”

“Grazie,” you said after the waiter had taken your order. Compared to Fyodor, your vocabulary was laughable because of how limited it was.

“So, you were saying?” Your eyes moved back to Fyodor.

“Oh, nevermind.”

“Someone I was dating? Well then…could we go on a date?”

“What?”

The waiter came back to you with a cup of your favorite hot liquid. You sat agape, eyes still fixated on Fyodor as your drink was set down in front of you.

“Oh, did you not hear me? I asked could we-”

“I could do a date.”

Gosh, that sounded so reluctant and backward. Truthfully, you would more than love to—and not just one, either. But that was so unlike him. He was only doing this for the sake of the statement you had told him, or perhaps he was just fulfilling one of your wishes because he knew your feelings and wanted to give you a taste of something you could never have.

His expression was momentarily unreadable before Fyodor pulled out a small ticket and smiled.

“Let’s go soon, then.” A second ticket to the Uffizi Gallery lay on the table.

…

Luckily, the rain had stopped for some time. Even so, there was already a line forming by the museum—tops of umbrellas covering the heads of all the people there.

It wasn’t opening time. Yet you followed Fyodor, hand holding onto his arm to not lose him, pushing through the crowd of people right to the front door.

“Wait, Fedya.” You tugged on his coat as soon as you made it past everyone.

“Hm? Yes?” He stopped, looking back.

“There’s about an hour until we can go in. I thought we came early so the line wouldn’t be too long—why did we just cut everyone?”

“What time does your ticket say?” Fyodor asked.

You glanced at your ticket, then a watch on Fyodor’s wrist, and then at his lovely face himself, who smirked at being correct.

“Oh…just about now.”

What strings did he pull for this? It felt unreal as you were let through security, ahead and excluding everyone else who waited outside. You pieced together that this man probably hacked your airline company’s website to get your flight and stay, but this was an entirely different matter. How did he get you not only early but private access to the institution? Bribes? Connections? It was useless pondering—he would never tell you.

Just as he would never tell you the true feelings of his soul.

A historic ambiance encapsulated the air as you stepped into the gallery. Classical-style architecture embodied the halls from ceiling to floor, and your enamored eyes scanned the place in wonder.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the open corridors and checkered floors. You somehow felt like royalty. It was so empty, so quiet—just two hearts who had an eye for both art and understanding. Fyodor watched as you eagerly fluttered around, running up to any statues in sight to absorb knowledge about them. You became as hyper as a little kid—you ran back and forth and back to Fyodor to swing him around.

“Woah-” It was a rare sight. He was caught off guard by your action, and for once, his violet eyes widened in surprise. Pleasant surprise. A moment after, he joined your movement, spinning the both of you around. You smiled in joy, and he did too, seeing yours.

The first hall you entered was Niobe’s Room. It was beautiful—the ceilings were elegant and accented gold, the largest canvases of the gallery looked even more surreal in person—paintings depicting war stretching almost from one wall to the other, and the thirteen statues were wondrous, which you were desirous of rambling about…

“The sculptures all show different ways of them being killed. This is the Greek myth of the murder of Niobe’s children. She was the wife of the king of Thebes, and she had bragged of being a better mother than Latona, who, ironically, is the goddess of motherhood itself. So, she punished Niobe by sending her two children, Apollo and Artemis, to slay the fourteen kids she had.”

You walked toward Niobe’s statue as Fyodor watched with total interest, gone unnoticed by you. “The myth ends by saying that Niobe never stopped weeping, and her tears turned into an eternal fountain.”

“How tragic,” Fyodor replied. “To think this could’ve all been avoided if she kept her mouth shut.”

You were suddenly overcome by self-awareness and felt embarrassed. Maybe you were speaking too much as well. He probably didn’t even care-

“I wouldn’t say the same for you, though. You carry fascination in your words, and it translates to your explanations. It’s always been that way. I enjoy listening to you, especially the things you are passionate about.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, even more so when his eyes dwelt on yours a bit too long.

…

“The Uffizi was actually not intended to hold the Medici family’s artworks and sculptures,” Fyodor started a little later. “The literal name means ‘offices,’ and the Duke of Florence wanted the complex to unite all administrative departments under one roof.”

“There you go with your intelligent rambling,” you chuckled as you walked into the Tribune despite having just done the same. This was the room you wanted to see most. A table was set in the center, and off-white sculptures were scattered throughout. “Next, you’re going to explain that this room…” you spun around the eight-sided space—“is octagonal because the number eight is considered the number that draws near Heaven, according to Christian tradition.”

Fyodor smiled. “I would already expect you to know. However, there are also literal sentiments—there is a lantern outside the dome doubling as a sundial. It teaches those unfamiliar with the movements of the celestial bodies.”

You only nodded.

“You knew that too?”

“No. I was also waiting for you to say the second thing. You mentioned more than one idea.”

“Unfortunately, you pick up on all my words.” You were confused by his statement, even more so when he stepped forward. You stepped back until you hit the table behind you, losing your way of escape.

“The room repeats its theme of drawing near to Heaven through the symbolism of the design and the cosmos. I would argue it must be true because…there’s also an angel right here.”

Your mind couldn’t stick to one thought as you tried to process what Fyodor meant by his words. And the recognizable complex scent as intricate as his individuality that followed him you could smell. He was so close now—you weren’t sure why you felt so nervous. How was this any different from the other times your friend broke personal space?

Though, he had never called you a term of endearment before, right? Doesn’t matter anyway. He probably only said that for the sake of a date.

But could you still say that when he closed the gap between you? And when he asked, “What do you find most beautiful about the museum?” and you were barely able to respond with “The frescoes you are greeted with when you look up towards the skies.”

And when he said, “You’re as beautiful as the frescoes,” intertwining your hand with his.

He embraced you. It felt so different from all the other ones he gave you—they were always so friendly, but this one felt almost ardent. When he pulled back, it almost looked like he would kiss you. But he completely withdrew.

It’s just for the sake of a date.

You were reminded a little later that the museum didn’t only belong to you. It had opened to the public, so you started seeing a few people around. That didn’t hinder your visit, though—you went to Michelangelo’s Room, saw Leonardo’s works, and Raphael’s—all the Renaissance artists.

And even though the Doni Tondo and even the Birth of Venus prevailed before Fyodor, he was not found admiring the Holy Family or the undressed Greek goddess of love and beauty. He stared at you instead in a way that made it seem like you were more breathtaking than any mural.

You stayed for a few more hours until you were content with everything you’d explored, and the rain had picked up again.

…

“I swear I locked the door.”

“You did,” Fyodor said, jingling a pair of keys.

“What?” Confusion flashed through your face as you checked your pocket for your own set of keys. He had not stolen them—you held up an identical pair.

“I own this apartment,” he jested, motioning for you to walk in before following behind.

“No way you actually set up everything!”

“Don’t deny it; I did it this way because I know you’re enthralled with my schemes.” You rolled your eyes in response, though you did not object.

“Point out what you found enigmatic here.”

You furrowed your brows while you thought of any mystery in the flat. Then, you walked up to the locked door.

“What’s behind this?”

“Unlock it, milaya.”

You looked at him for help as Fyodor joined you beside the door.

“But how-”

His hand brushed your neck before tucking your hair behind your ears and readjusting your necklace.

Ah.

“Smart girl,” he smiled as you unclasped your necklace and unlocked the door. You felt your cheeks become warm.

“Unfortunately, this was really creative,” you admitted sarcastically, a reminiscence of your rivalry.

“You haven’t seen it yet.” He waited for you to go in first—it was not a storage closet like you’d expected, but a hallway to another room.

It was silent as you walked to the end, where another door stood before you.

“Another one?” “Open it.”

You pulled down the handle and entered. Natural light seeped into the room from all sides, and you realized it was a sunroom.

Even though it wasn’t sunny, the room was swaddled with something empyrean—something more beautiful than the frescoes on the museum ceilings.

You fell to your knees—in surprise, in emotion, and in that, your heart was about to explode with that feeling of love. Those months ago since that chippy conversation spoken within the walls of your apartment…

“Does no one wonder about the artist? No one notices that they long to be adored, too?”

In truth, those words should’ve been taken with a grain of salt by anyone. You were just speaking your head—you were being theatrical over secret feelings you had for the person listening to you.

But someone had seemed to take them literally. He had your favorite flowers and plants growing in the room. And there were paintings—canvases stood by each other depicting the same person, you. There were sketches and polaroids of you on the walls without windows—some of them including him—and all picturing your happiest moments that year. Some of them had captions written on papers below them, too. They looked more like letters because their descriptions were detailed and lengthy.

It was like your very own museum, where you were exactly the muse in his eyes.

Fyodor, who had been standing in the doorway, walked and stood in front of you.

…So sometimes you wondered if you were simply a step in his achieving them, nothing more.

Could it really only be that way if he stooped down too, kneeling on the floor and cupping your face in his hands?

“I really feel like you don’t realize. You know…mi piaci molto, right lyubimaya?”

“Huh?” you asked as he stood the both of you back up in the center of the room. He was confusing you so much with everything, and more literally with his combination of Italian and Russian.

“Ah, I apologize, it’s hard to verbally—may I just?”

Fyodor leaned in a little closer, his arms around your waist and his eyes on yours.

Your mind would label it the definition of perfect serenity. The sounds of raindrops beating on the windows outside were distant and calming, while the sounds of heartbeats shared between you and Fyodor were close and warm.

You shyly nodded and closed your eyes, giving Fyodor his answer. He kissed you tenderly. So softly at first, as if you were fragile. But then, you moved your arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

You kissed him back, growing more passionately as your unsure doubts gradually dispelled into dust. He was so pretty—more charming than any of Michaelangelo’s sculptures. For his violetto eyes glowed at your presence, standing out from fair skin and dark hair. God knew not to put him in a museum where he would overshadow and be envied by all.

You only drew back to catch your breaths. And even so, Fyodor took your hands in his and started to play with them.

He was avoiding your gaze. Even though he was looking down, fidgeting with your fingers in attempt to hide it, you could see that his cheeks were flushed.

And you became flustered at the sight, too. You had never seen him look like that. You started to giggle. He finally looked at you with another new facial expression. Confusion.

You laughed even more, even when he asked what the matter was.

“The Fyodor Dostoevsky, going shy from a kiss,” you teased, poking him.

He scoffed. “Meanwhile, you’re stupid. You didn’t get the hint I was…am fond of you. At first, I thought you really had your sights on someone else…” he trailed off for a bit, “but then, I stumbled across some things while helping you clean your room…”

Sketches. Journal entries. Unsent letters. He had seen them in your drawers.

“Hey! Have you ever heard about privacy?”

“I respected your wishes. It said, ‘If Fyodor somehow sees this, read it.’”

“Damn.”

It was his turn to chuckle. Then, he kissed you again on the forehead.

“Happy birthday, darling. You are more beautiful than every piece of artwork that exists on this earth. Because you breathe—words and thoughts and interpretations, and that is what fascinates me with you. You are not just to be perceived on the walls but to be understood by another heart. My heart.”

fun fact: the real dostoyevsky really did art. he liked to sketch!

you are so lovely if you read this. reblogs are cherished; please indulge me in your thoughts through rbs, they are what support me the most! <3

297 notes · View notes

chuuyrr · 3 months

Text

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 .ᐟ

feat: dazai, chuuya, fyodor

ꨄ˙ CW(s): gn! reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk)

ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: in which you drink too much and don't even realize that your boyfriend is your boyfriend or you might as well be drunk in love

in the dimly lit bar, the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. you found yourself swirling the remnants of a colorful cocktail, the room around you blurring as the night progressed.

DAZAI sits beside you, and couldn't help but notice your flushed-pink demeanor, fueled by the drinks you had consumed, and giggles to himself.

in your tipsy state, you tilt your head, looking at dazai with a playful suspicion. the room spun slightly, and you sway on your seat, trying to focus on his face.

"you know," you slur, "you're a suspicious stranger. i bet you've got some secret agenda." you point an accusing finger at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

dazai, amused by your playful accusations, couldn't help but giggle even more, "oh, do i now? well, i'm just a harmless 'stranger' who happened to find the most adorable drunk person in the entire bar."

you raise an eyebrow skeptically, still not recognizing him, "adorable, huh? well, mr. stranger-fanger, you're gonna have to prove it." you cross your arms, a challenging smirk on your flushed face.

dazai, seizing the opportunity, wraps his arms around you with a mockingly serious expression, "see? no danger here, just a guy who appreciates adorable drunks."

you broke into a fit of giggles, melting into his embrace, "well, you're not that bad for a stranger, i guess."

completely unaware that the 'stranger' was, in fact, your boyfriend, you continued to enjoy the whimsical dance of laughter and teasing, creating a memory that would undoubtedly be cherished in the days to come.

"i'm gonna be serious though, i am your boyfriend," dazai says to you.

you blink softly at him, your tipsy-drunk state had somehow lead you to look at him as such. dazai blinks back before a grin starts to tug on his lips.

"do i have to remind my dearest? well, then. buckle up because you're in for a treat!" he says before he instantly starts peppering your face in kisses as he holds you tightly.

you immediately start to squeal and giggle as you are reminded of the constant kisses that your boyfriend would give you admist the alcohol in your system.

"osamuuu!" you say in a soft whine before he pecks your lips.

dazai grins even more widely at your cute little whine as he cups your face now, "that's more like it. goodness, such an adorable drunk you are, hmm?"

CHUUYA watches with a mix of concern and amusement as your cheerful demeanor transformed into a tipsy state.

as the night wore on, chuuya decides it was time to take you home. he gently placed his gloved hand on your shoulder, trying to capture your attention, "hey, it's getting late. how about we head home?" he suggests, his voice warm and caring.

however, in your inebriated state, you misinterpreted the situation. you gasp sharply before you squirm in your seat and whine softly, "nooo, i'm having so much fun here! plus, you can't take me home! i have a boyfriend!"

chuuya was flabbergasted, but he couldn't help but chuckle at your resistance afterwards upon seeing this, "come on, baby, i'm not a stranger. i'm your boyfriend, and I just want to make sure you get home safely."

now it's you blinking softly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and innocence, "boyfriend? really?" you giggle, completely unaware of the true nature of your relationship.

"you're being so silly right now, i almost can't with you," chuuya sighs, still laughing softly, "geez, i didn't know my baby can be this forgetful with this much alcohol."

undeterred, chuuya continued to coax you gently, his amusement growing as you stare at him in awe as you begin to pat his cheeks in your warm hands, "this pretty face is all mine?"

chuuya chuckles again, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he takes your hands in his before leaning in to press a lingering kiss on your lips and whispering, "i'm all yours, baby."

the night unfolded in a blend of laughter, warmth, and the endearing challenge of convincing you that the 'stranger' was, in fact, the person who cared for you the most, and you couldn't help but giggle even more into the kiss.

FYODOR observes your increasing intoxication with a measured gaze, a sense of concern clouding his usually composed demeanor.

as the night unfolds, you continued to enjoy the array of drinks that nikolai had generously provided you two. fyodor, recognizing the potential consequences, decided it was time to intervene. he places a hand gently on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"dear, perhaps it's time to slow down," fyodor suggests, his voice calm and measured as he tries to get you to stop.

you looked at him with a tipsy grin, oblivious to the fact that fyodor was your boyfriend, "but nikolai is just being generous. no harm in a few more, riiight?"

fyodor's piercing gaze held a mixture of concern and determination, "i'd rather not see you regretting this tomorrow. let's enjoy the night responsibly," he insists, attempting to guide you away from the tempting allure of more drinks.

however, in your intoxicated state, you resisted his efforts, misinterpreting his intentions, "oh, come on! live a little, stranger!" you playfully tease, unaware that fyodor was the person you were romantically involved with.

fyodor couldn't help but hide a small smile at your playful antics, though he inwardly feels a twinge of sadness at being referred to as a stranger, maintained his composure.

he observes you with a subtle sadness in his eyes, a fleeting emotion that betrayed the depth of his feelings. still, he wasn't one to give up easily.

with a gentle touch, he cupped your face, making you meet his gaze, "remember, i'm the one who cares deeply for you," he murmurs with a faint smile, his eyes staring in yours.

"i may be a stranger in this particular scenario, but i am not to you," fyodor replies softly, realizing that your drunken state was proving to be a barrier. yet, he didn't relent.

the realization began to dawn on you, your intoxicated mind slowly connecting the dots, "wait a minute... you care about me? really?"

fyodor nods, his eyes holding a mixture of hope and longing, "more than you can imagine."

you blink softly, still processing the situation through the haze of alcohol. before you could react, fyodor leaned in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss against your lips. the touch was tender yet filled with an unspoken depth of emotion, an attempt to bridge the gap that had momentarily separated you.

as the kiss unfolded, a subtle warmth spread through you, and the fog of intoxication seemed to lift momentarily. the taste of familiarity mingled with the hint of sadness, creating a poignant moment that transcended the blurred boundaries of the night. fyodor then pulls away, his gaze searching yours for any signs of recognition.

there was a pause, a moment of suspended realization. slowly, your eyes widened, and a spark of recognition flickered within them. "wait," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and clarity as you smile. "you're not a stranger, only my fedya kisses me like that!"

a soft smile tugged at the corners of fyodor's lips as the weight of being called a stranger lifted. the kiss had served as a catalyst, a bridge that connected the fragments of memory scattered in the alcohol-induced haze.

"my, my, how could you forget your fedya, dear?" fyodor sighs, shaking his head before he kisses your lips again and whispers, "traitor.."

ꨄ˙ A.N.: i feel like i might have written fyodor in an ooc-ish way, and if i did, i apologize !! haven't written for him in so long and i don't write for him as often as dazai and chuuya. this is also kinda silly i think now that i've finished writing this lol !! thank you so much for reading until the end (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

2K notes · View notes