#bsd fyodor dostoevsky

[riniseven]

and tooth and nails

[cinnabar-circus]

2024 | 16 | inspiration

[allistocracy]

How anime girls be standing when talking to the main character

[refriedcaprisun]

‼️‼️CHAPTER 121 ‼️‼️

‼️‼️‼️ SPOILERS‼️‼️

This is what i imagine hallucination dazai was doing right before chap 121

genuinely dont know whats happening in the manga rn but i know im loving it 😼‼️‼️

[definetelynotavampire]

*Wilhelm Tells your Fyozai*

[frostlineprince]

it was funnier in my head

[ces-nenuphars]

BSD textposts These were fun! I'll probably do some more in the future

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Spoilers for Chapter 114.5

This confirms that Dazai is literally the only person who can kill Fyodor since he would nullify the possession. Which makes the "You can't kill me line" way funnier because Fyodor was really thinking

"please for the love of god do not be the one to kill me"

[featherstorm2004]

Ok but the implication that Fyodor inherits the personality traits of the people who kill him is extremely messed up when you think about it. And considering how old he is it's very likely his original personality has been completely taken over by this point, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if Fyodor doesn't actually have a grand master plan but is instead working with a hodgepodge of half baked ideas culminated by his past vessels over the centuries.

Especially when you consider that these new desirers seem to effect him strongly, with him not giving two shits about Aya until he took over Bram and now suddenly he's yandere levels obsessed with her.

[wildflowerteas]

his eyes are light right before death and void black after resurrection i feel so insane

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 3: “Stay Still!” [Dry humping] for Kinktober.

⤷⊹₊fyodor d. x afab! reader.

⊹₊Synopsis: it's your own roman empire, where you and fyodor continually indulge in lust-fueled escapades during important meetings.

⊹₊Warning: ņsfw, mdni, smųt, dry humping, agoraphilia, risky sex/secret sex, orgasm control, praise kink..etc.

⊹₊Word count & a/n: 1k, animated lines by @/cafekitsune. this was a very fun level to write honestly, a sweet thank you to bb rem @remlionheart for beta reading, ilysm<3

“stay quiet, дорогая (dear). if they notice, i’ll stop, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

that might be the last coherent thing you hear before fyodor starts his meeting with nikolai and sigma. you’re face-down on the cold, rough metallic table, wobbling body pressed between him and the edge, feeling a familiar, simmering need flooding through your senses. three agonising months of work have kept him busy, and you’ve missed him terribly. so, if this is the closest you can get to feeling him? then fucking be it.

you grind your bare folds against his clothed bulge, the friction sending your whole body numb with pleasure. it feels too good, almost overwhelming, and you can’t hold back the quiet whine that escapes your lips.

“...we'll need a distraction, something to divert their attention while nikolai can execute our plan.” the russian states calmly as if your pussy is not soaking the hell out of the fabric of his trousers at this very moment. honestly, you can't fathom how he maintains such composure while you squirm beneath him, desperately trying to stretch out the pleasure that’s building quickly in your lower belly. maybe you can hold out until the meeting is over.

you’re doing your utmost to hang in there.

“the weretiger is an easy target...”nikolai exclaims, on the other hand, sigma is already rolling his eyes in boredom, clearly frustrated that they still haven’t addressed his casino issues yet.

you squeeze your eyes shut trying to drown out their conversation, focusing solely on the one command fyodor has given you: “don’t cum until I say so.”

such a cruel man he is. why? because he's slowly grinding his hips back against you, he knows that you're desperately close, it's in his nature to push all the right buttons, only to leave you mourning the loss of his touch afterwards.

you do your best to stifle a moan, but a soft whimper slips past your lips instead.

his slender fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just enough to make you tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his devilish gaze as he shoots you a warning glance, seeing you nod obediently, trying to stifle the needy whimpers that escape as you force yourself to slow down, biting your lip to keep quiet.

“their unity is what gives them strength; without it, they're weak,” fyodor continues, his left hand tightens around your hips, guiding your rhythm with maddening control, while his other hand slides down to tease your aching clit, circling it with deliciously slow, torturous strokes.

your eyes roll back, vision blurring from the overwhelming pleasure, and you’re caught between trembling restraint and the impossible need to let go. fuckーhow can he expect you to hold back when he’s sinfully pleasuring you like this?

It's been half an hour, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. an aching need swells within you as you clutch his hand, fingers intertwining with his, silently begging him to quicken his pace, desperately craving that sweet, sweet release that feels just out of reach.

once the russian has his mind set on something, no amount of begging, sweet words, or tears will sway him. his long, pale fingers slip between your folds, thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit hood to add to your mounting pleasure and you can’t help but roll your hips against him, grinding harder with each passing second. you're acutely aware of the risk that his body might jolt, drawing the unwanted attention of his oblivious subordinates.

you can't hold back anymore, the pleasure has woven itself tightly within you, each pulse layered like bricks in a tower that only fyodor’s permission keeps standing, until the same bricks of bliss snap at the base of your spine once his hand, which had been gripping your hair, taps against the cold metal table twice.

it’s the sign you’ve been begging the heavens for. you're now rolling your hips faster against his hard cock, finally riding out your long-awaited release—jaw slack, eyes rolled back, a trace of drool slipping from your parted lips as you soak his fabric, bliss coursing through you like the light of a thousand stars from the milky way.

as you shudder in ecstasy, the three of his fingers continue bullying your swelling clit—coaxing you through the rest of your release as he draws sharp shapes on the puffy nub.

“that’s it, my love keep that orgasm going for me.” he leans down out of the camera's field to pressing searing kisses to the nape of your neck.

ironically, the meeting continues, oblivious to your plight.

nikolai’s enthusiastic breaks through your sweet bliss. “...and that’s how i’ll handle the weretiger situation.”

while sigma rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “can we move on? i still need to discuss my casino issues.”

clearing his throat, fyodor straightens up, his trademark icy professionalism settling back into place once more. “then let’s wrap this up. we’ll reconvene later to finalise the plan.”

you try to regain your composure, still feeling the aftershocks of erotic pleasure, as the meeting draws to a close. fyodor casts you a sidelong glance with a small loving smirk as he adds, “i trust everyone will stay focused now.”

frankly, you can’t shake the feeling that your relationship won’t stay a secret for much longer. especially given how risky you both are being by engaging in sexually-driven activities like this.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @perlaslibrary

[riniseven]

snow and lamb

[melliemell]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT.. POCKY GAME WITH THE BSD CAST (preferably Ranpo and Dazai, feel free to add whoever u want!!) MAKE IT ROMANTIC TOO PLZ I CANT GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD🙏🙏🙏

LOTS OF LOVE - an anon who lost their glasses

👀👀this... this was too fun to write ohmygod you have no idea

Now you've managed to get me stuck on thoughts of silly little moments with those losers too aaAAAAAA I gotchu nonnie, you ask and I deliver😌

BSD Cast ft. Pocky Game

(Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Chuuya; high-key suggestive, blame them not me)

Dazai

“It’s a very delicate procedure.”

“Mmm, big boy business, I see.”

“Shush. Good students listen to their sensei first and give smartass remarks later. Now…” 

 It would be Dazai’s idea, not surprising in the slightest. The thing is, he’d be very convincing about this, all sweet smiles and an offhand remark how cute it’d be ‘cause couples are supposed to do sappy things, duh. An innocent enough suggestion, one you found amusing but nothing to bat an eye about. 

Until you add Dazai’s complete disregard for social norms and he’d be pulling those things out in the most embarrassing, inconvenient places he could think of. Mostly to annoy you, secondly to see how red in the face you’d get if he put you in a compromising situation. And oh boy do those happen often. 

One moment you’d be in the middle of discussing important work matters with Atsushi, the next Dazai’s sliding up in your personal space, pocky already hanging at his lips. Worst is he’d act as though this is your average activity, batting his lashes all sweetly at you as he waited. If you snap the pocky with your hand instead he’d react as though it was his heart you just crushed, you cruel beauty of his.

It’s all fine though, things considered. So long as he does get his kiss in the end. Behind some privacy this time.

Ranpo

No. Do not engage with this man in a pocky game, he will be an absolute menace about it.

Unlikely to suggest it himself as it means he’d have to share his snacks with you. Could be convinced if informed of the chance of getting free smooches though. But he’d whine about it, probably already munching on the pack you bought as you were explaining the rules to him.

In the case of you managing to save some for the actual thing…

“Yeah, yeah, can you get on with it? I wanna play already.”

Ranpo does not, in fact, play. The moment you get in place, both of you biting onto your respective side, Ranpo all but throws away any and all rule-information you gave. Who needs those? Only losers, that’s who.

He’s already bitten off almost the entirety of the pocky, lips finding yours a second later as he pulls you in, hands smashing up your cheeks on both sides. You can practinally hear him munching on the chocolate which makes this all the more hilarious. Talk about mixed priorities. 

Second try goes just as the first one; any illusions of a game forgotten as you were pretty sure Ranpo’s impatience wasn’t quite something you were equipt for…

The third and final chance (last pocky, unfortunately he ate the rest) wasn’t really a chance, honestly. Not when you could just push him back on the couch and kiss him stupid as you climbed atop. 

He might get the remaining pocky later. Maybe.

Fyodor

“How charming.”

Would be amused by the whole thing. Unexpectedly easy to convince, and it gets even weirder as he calmly complies with the rules, nodding patiently. Before you know it you’re staring down at each other, one pocky distance between you two.

Not the type to rush into things, letting you get closer to him instead. Expect a lot of raised eyebrows and chaste kisses as you go through the whole pack. Did you think this was a one go thing? Silly you. A happy, satisfied partner is a compliant one, after all. Little things like this cost him nothing, but could bring a smile on your face. Why would he waste an opportunity like that?

Unlikely to push things further… but just as unlikely to stop you from leaving a few more kisses on him. One or two at the edge of his lips. One accidentally finding its way on his jaw. A trail of feathery brushes down his throat and soon he’d be getting the memo pretty well. 

You can’t help it. There’s something about Fyodor’s damned calmness that always leads to this. Maybe it’s the presence of character; something solid and secure before you that always manages to crawl under your skin. You’d be pulling at his shirt and trousers before you know it, pocky game entirely forgotten.

Chuuya

This one’s a trickie.

Chuuya’d be split between wanting to give in to your sillies, but also… why? Why this? Why not go to that nice and fancy restaurant he talked to you about? The one with the molten chocolate cakes; he’d treat you to all the sweets in the world if you’d ask him. 

Embarrassed at first, and trying his best to sneakily pull himself out of the situation. Until you finally manage to corner him, pocky box in hand and a roguish glint in your eyes.

Maybe it was his dignity, or maybe he was playing too much into the tough guy persona. But the moment you sat him down, a winner’s determination written all over your face– oh, no. Hell no, this was on.

Forget about any cute couple moments. Oh nono, it was all narrowed eyes and prolonged stares of intense analysis, each trying to predict the others’ move. One wrong decision, just the slightest distraction and–

Before Chuuya had you round the waist, rolling you suddenly on the bed as a panicked yelp flew from your lips. The absolute ass. And he’d be laughing about it too, looking down at your sprawled form with the goofiest smile, trying to bite into his lower lip to stifle yet another fit. 

“You all good, sweets? Guess ya lost this round.”

And you’d pull him down, your breath ghosting over his widening grin.

“We’ll see about that.”

[heliosunny]

Fyodor Dostoyevsky being affectionate and touchy for the first time with a woman he adores so much realizing how she makes him feel and how in love he is with her.(lovesick fyodor is a wonderful thought 🙏‼️)

Fyodor Dostoyevsky never kept his assistants for long. They were useful, yes, but disposable—like pawns in a grand chess game. Once their purpose was served, he discarded them without a second thought, their existence erased as if they had never mattered.

But you… You were different.

He should have gotten rid of you already. By now, you should have been just another name wiped from his memory, another forgotten tool in his intricate schemes. And yet, he found himself hesitating. Delaying. Watching you with an unreadable expression as you worked diligently beside him.

You weren’t weak. You weren’t incompetent. But that wasn’t what spared you. No, there was something else.

"You seem distracted, Fyodor" you remarked one evening, your voice laced with curiosity. You didn’t fear him the way others did. A foolish mistake—or perhaps an irresistible charm.

He tilted his head, watching you with a quiet intensity. "Do I?"

"You do." You turned to face him fully, unaware of the way his fingers twitched at his sides, resisting the impulse to reach for you.

He had touched you once before—briefly, fleetingly. A gloved hand brushing against yours when he handed you a file. A whisper of contact that left an imprint he couldn’t shake. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. But no matter how much he rationalized, the truth was undeniable. He couldn’t get rid of you.

Not because of logic. Not because of strategy. But because the mere thought of you vanishing from his world filled him with an unfamiliar, unsettling sensation—something he refused to name.

"Perhaps" he murmured, stepping closer, his presence swallowing the space between you, "you are the distraction."

Your breath hitched as he reached up, his fingers finally breaking their restraint to brush against your cheek. He was testing something—testing himself.

Would he recoil? Would he let go?

No.

Instead, he cupped your face fully, his grip firm, almost possessive. His thumb traced your cheekbone, his eyes dark and unreadable. He was always so controlled, so untouchable. But right now, standing before you, his walls were crumbling.

"You've done something unforgivable, Y/N" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to your skin.

You swallowed, the weight of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "And what would that be?"

His smile was slow, almost amused, but there was something predatory beneath it. "You've made yourself irreplaceable."

-----

You had always known that Fyodor Dostoyevsky was not a kind man.

But until now, you had only seen him in dimly lit rooms, shuffling through papers, playing mind games with unseen enemies, and speaking in soft, almost poetic riddles. You had been his assistant—handling documents, gathering contacts, and making sure every piece of information fell into place.

You had never seen him act on his cruelty firsthand.

Not until tonight.

The warehouse was cold and dimly illuminated by flickering overhead lights. The air smelled of damp concrete and something metallic- blood. You stood frozen at the entrance, your fingers gripping the edge of your coat as you watched him work.

A man knelt before Fyodor, trembling, pleading, his voice raw with desperation.

"You failed me" he murmured, his voice gentle—almost kind. "And I don’t have the patience for disappointment."

The next moment was swift, decisive. A flick of his wrist, a signal to Ivan and Sigma, and the man’s pleas were cut short.

Your stomach twisted as his body crumpled to the ground.

This wasn’t the same Fyodor who murmured cryptic thoughts in the dark. This wasn’t the man who would occasionally pause his reading to glance at you, lost in silent contemplation. No—this was something else.

This was the demon others feared.

Your breath was shaky as you took an unconscious step back, but his voice stopped you.

"Y/N" he called, soft yet firm. He turned toward you, his violet eyes locking onto yours with unsettling ease. "Come here."

Fyodor held you against him, his grip firm but not painful, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your jaw as he forced you to watch.

Blood pooled at the center of the room, bodies discarded like broken chess pieces. The sounds of gasping breaths and the final, pathetic pleas of his victims echoed in your ears, but Fyodor’s voice was the only thing you could truly hear—low, amused, intoxicating.

“Tell me” he murmured, pressing a gloved finger beneath your chin to tilt your face toward his. “Does this unsettle you?”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to look away. “You already know the answer.”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Mm, I do." His fingers trailed from your chin, down the curve of your throat, lingering there as if testing your pulse—measuring just how fast he could make your heart race.

The worst part was that he knew. He knew you hadn’t betrayed him, hadn’t leaked information. You had been nothing but loyal. But that didn’t stop him from playing his games, from toying with you like a cat with a mouse it had no intention of letting go.

“You’re cruel” you whispered, glaring up at him.

Fyodor chuckled, his free hand sliding to your waist as he pulled you flush against him. "Cruel? No, my dear. If I were cruel, I would not be holding you like this.”

His grip tightened, warm even through the fabric of his coat.

"You see, I had to wonder" he continued, his voice laced with amusement. "If you would flinch when you saw this side of me. If you'd run. If you'd beg." His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "But you didn’t."

His arms caged you in, his touch both teasing and consuming. “Do you know how much that excites me, Y/N?” His voice dropped to a whisper, a soft hum that sent an unbearable heat curling in your stomach. “Knowing that no matter how dark I am, you are still here.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak.

"You are fascinating" he mused, his fingers ghosting along the curve of your cheek, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip. "Perhaps even dangerous." Then, he laughed—soft, beautiful, sinful. "How delightful."

One evening, as he sat in his chair, a glass of wine in one hand and a chess piece in the other, he finally spoke of his next plan.

"Dazai's plan huh." he mused, rolling the black king between his fingers. "It is time we end our little game, don’t you think?"

Your chest tightened. The war that had been brewing in the shadows was about to reach its boiling point. And this time… you would be right in the middle of it.

-----

The first step of his plan had succeeded. The enemy had fallen, the pieces had shifted, and now, a new alliance had been forged.

The newcomer sat across from Fyodor, their eyes calculating, cold. "Your assistant" they said, their voice sharp. "You should get rid of them. For safety."

Your breath caught, but you forced yourself to remain still. You didn't look at Fyodor. You knew better than to let your expression betray anything.

Silence stretched for a moment too long.

Then, Fyodor let out a slow hum, swirling the tea in his cup before taking a sip. "Yes" he finally said, nodding as if considering it. "Perhaps you are right."

Your stomach dropped.

For the first time, uncertainty crawled under your skin. He wouldn't—would he?

"Good" the new ally said with approval, leaning back. "We’ll handle it."

Fyodor’s lips twitched, barely noticeable. “How thoughtful.”

You felt his hand brush against yours beneath the table, deliberate, slow.

It was a message.

He had no intention of letting them touch you.

Later that night, in the solitude of his chambers, he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you like chains you could never escape.

"Did I scare you?" he murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your neck, his voice laced with dark amusement.

"You nearly made me think you were serious." you admitted, your voice steady despite the way his touch set you on fire.

His hand trailed up your spine, slow, savoring. "And if I were?"

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Then I wouldn’t be here now, would I?"

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Exactly."

His lips brushed against your temple, his fingers curling around your waist. "You see, my dear… I don't need to get rid of you." His grip tightened, and he let his lips linger just a moment longer.

"I need you."

[originalartblog]

worse than a cockroach

[definetelynotavampire]

old fucking rat