#chess against fyodor

[loropetalums]

Ranpo really was like. You outsmart me i will make sure u get stabbed in the chest. And explode. Or something. Mood tbh

[kentopedia]

˚₊‧꒰ა cold embrace (provenance) — fyodor dostoevsky

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. you buy a two hundred year old house with a two hundred year old painting hanging above the mantel. it's not the only thing the previous owner left behind.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. ghost!fyodor, f!reader, violence, angst, death, alternate / modern universe, no smut but it is suggestive, fyodor is kind of a pervy ghost so, wc: 6.1k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. this one has two titles bc it was supposed to be for my kinktober... never finished it. embarrassing ! but here is a semi-revamped version for this series! i can finally check it off my wips page <3 idk how i feel about it but i hope you enjoy

part of my summerween series !

A chime from the grandfather clock brings Fyodor out of his stupor, the sound signaling another day, another meaningless hour that will only continue his eternal misery. He’s grown used to it now—evening after evening of emptiness, of reading nothing but the same books, playing the same pieces of dull sheet music, and the lifeless chess matches against himself. The house is cold with only his presence, dusty without a housekeeper and a life to make it a home.

There are a million things in Fyodor’s life that he must have done to deserve this misery, but he can’t pinpoint which one solidified his reward of a lamentable, endless cycle.

He’s certain hell is better than this. It’s something he wishes for every day, if only to have an eternal companion with the devil, a challenge to overcome.

Though, even with this boredom, Fyodor refuses to let anyone live in his home. They’ll only serve to be another pain, something that would, surely, push him past the brink of sanity.

The centuries old décor will get replaced with gaudy twenty-first century items, ones that will be nothing more than an eyesore. There are a few already scattered around his home from previous tenants, but only things that he believed useful enough for him to keep; a few books from authors he didn’t live to read, a television from the nineties, a computer that he watched one couple scroll on before he murdered them in cold blood.

Perhaps he is two hundred years dead and gone, but he refuses to be an ignorant ghost, one that is unaware of anything beyond these four walls, caught forever in the past.

Although now, it’s been a while since anyone’s tried to move in, and he’s certain the only reason the house hasn’t been torn down is because its preserved nicely, an eighteenth-century home that has withstood the test of time.

Fyodor, in his lowest moments, wishes they would tear it down. Maybe then, and only then, can he be set free. Or maybe, he’s forever trapped in this exhaustive lot, doomed to decay, even when there’s nothing left of the foundations but soil.

He pushes a pawn forward on the board, putting himself in checkmate for the millionth time in a row. It’s been so long that he’s used to his own tricks. Even the computer, which he’d come to understand quickly, is no match for him. It’s far too exhaustive to play against a machine that utilizes an algorithm he can so easily decipher.

Out of nowhere, the front door unlocks, and Fyodor glances over at the sound, dark hair falling over his eyes. Seconds later, he notices an older realtor with a clipboard leading you around, a woman he’s never seen, dressed up nicely with a darker shade of lipstick smeared across your mouth.

He’s been through this before. It’s a miracle the realtor hasn’t given up on this house yet, a mansion she is determined to sell despite the endless horrors that have been committed by his hand.

“Here it is,” she says, nervous, gesturing around the expansive hall, the crystal chandelier and staircase that immediately follows. “It was built in 1731, but one of the owners remolded it in the style of the mid-nineteenth century. The structure has been stabilized; it’s safe… enough.”

The two of you chat, but he doesn’t bother to listen in. It’s all questions of: when can I move in? can we negotiate? — things you will come to regret once he sets his sights on killing you.

Then, the realtor is sighing, wringing her hands together as she watches you spin around the house in awe. It’s clear that you’re impressed by the layout, the rich furniture and colors that have been used.

That, at least, satisfies Fyodor. Everyone else who has moved in was looking to upgrade it to a modern style, rid the place of its aged grace and charm.

“I’m truly sorry,” she says, brushing curly hair away from her cheekbones. “But I am legally obligated to tell you that every person who has lived here before has suffered a terrible, terrible fate. There have been gruesome murders that cannot be explained, done in ways that I don’t even want to tell you about.”

You laugh, eyeing her with skepticism. “Are you telling me it’s haunted?”

The realtor shrugs. “That’s what people say.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you answer, and Fyodor rolls his eyes, scoffing as he floats to the second floor, unable to listen into the unreasonable conversation anymore. It’s been the same story for decades. No one believes in ghosts, but it is always a ghost that kills them.

He returns to the chess board, irritated, though unable to consider the game any further. Your face is stuck in his mind. For some reason, he can’t remember the last time he’s ever seen anyone with such beauty.

Fyodor stops; your ageless elegance doesn’t matter—it can’t, and it won’t. You’ll be dead by the end of the month, when you gather all your things and invade the bedroom that was once his own. Even if you are beautiful, you are a nuisance, a threat to Fyodor’s eternal torment and quiet existence.

Still, he can’t help but wonder if it would be nice to have something other than his own thoughts to distract him from the endless misery.

You move in on the thirteenth of June, nothing more than a few boxes and a decade old car to keep you company. He guesses you’ve traveled a long distance to get here, and you’ve gotten rid of half of your life in the process.

A good thing for him. That means things can be over relatively quickly, and all your belongings can be disposed of easily after he kills you.

You spend the entire first day unpacking, and Fyodor waits patiently, allows you time to get comfortable in his home. He watches as you bring a stack of thick novels into the waiting room, which once boasted large parties, and place them on a shelf below those that have his name within the covers.

You take a few calls as you hang up your autumn coats, ones that won’t be needed for a few months. The voice on the other line sounds frantic, worried. A local, most likely. You only seem annoyed by his continuous string of anxieties.

When the sun sets, and you grow tired, you rub your eyes and head to bed. The first night you will spend in this place that Fyodor likens to Hell.

It’s the time he’s been waiting for—a moment to catch you off guard. You are so unsuspecting, already so at home in the mansion, that you have no fear of anything hurting you in the middle of the night.

While you get ready for bed, Fyodor slips into your room, observing the pieces of your life that have conquered his bedroom. A soft classical piece plays from your phone, one that he recognizes from his mortal life. Clearly, you are fascinated by the period he once lived in. A shame, really, he won’t be able to tell you more about it.

You leave the bathroom, come back towards him to change into a pair of small shorts, a large shirt hanging over your frame.

He’s forgotten how long it’s been since he’s seen a woman, how long since he’s touched one.

Fyodor finds himself distracted by your body, the smoothness of your skin. His eyes travel over your legs, your hips, the fullness of your breasts and ignores how much he desires to let his thumb graze over your flesh. There is something so soft about you, so gentle and innocent.

Perhaps, that is where his fascination stems from: he has always been the opposite. Even in his human existence, Fyodor was not a kind man, and he doesn’t plan on becoming one now that he is dead.

He shakes away the vision, the thoughts that swirl within his mind. It has been far too long since he has experienced any sort of pleasure, and maybe even a man as cold as himself is not immune to the desires that course within his veins.

Though he tries to be. He ignores his arousal desperately in exchange for a renewed bloodlust.

You climb into bed, put your phone on the white cord, and shut your eyes. Thirty minutes later, you’re sleeping soundly, soft puffs of air leaving your lips as you sleep.

It’s the opportune moment. The silver knife gleams brightly in his hand, streaks of moonlight tracing over the slanted point. It’s the same blade he’s killed every other new tenant with, their screams still echo in the halls like a harmonious melody each time he bring the knife down on another unknowing victim.

He stands before you at the side of the bed, watches as your chest rises and falls, the evidence of your life undeniable. You are a lovely image like this, something to be painted and adored; more beautiful than many of the women he’d met in his time, even those who were of the finest elite in the country.

Fyodor presses the blade to your throat, contemplative. He considers how much lovelier you will look with the scarlet stain of blood seeping down your neck, spraying across the room and ruining the fresh sheets. Will you awaken, gasping as you claw at your throat, or will you drift away without even understanding what has become of you?

He pictures it, and digs the blade close to your throat, nothing more than a pinprick of blood flowering there.

You don’t awaken; but you a little sound leaves you, something between a gasp and a moan, and you shift away from the knife gripped between his pale fingers. It’s a sound that has him pausing, musing, as he regards your vulnerable state, a beautiful figure there with no clue that such a murderous man is also a resident in her home.

You make another one of those pretty noises in your throat, and Fyodor, against two centuries of murderous intent, pulls the knife away. He watches as you roll on your stomach, your shirt scrunching, moving up your body to reveal the undersides of your breasts. Your hand shifts towards him on the bed, reaching in his direction, before you still. Then, your breathing is back to normal, evened out completely.

Your lips part blissfully as you sigh in your sleep.

He can’t stop looking at you, can’t stop wondering what his name would sound like leaving the perfect swell of your mouth, if you’d sound just as pretty when you orgasm as you do when you’re asleep.

Surely, he can find a better use for you—it would be a shame for such a pretty thing to go out so early.

As he draws back, Fyodor notices the chess board on the side table, the pieces arranged nicely, each on the correct square. He can’t tell if you play. You could just have it for decoration, or perhaps it was a gift given to you from a lover that he hasn’t seen pictures of, the one that he’s certain someone as lovely as you must have.

The board is aged; not as old as the one in the drawing room, but a nice set, nonetheless. Fyodor glances back at your sleeping form once more, smiles coolly to himself, and shifts a pawn forward.

The chess piece is the first thing you notice in the morning.

It’s almost ridiculous how easily it catches your eye, a tiny little movement within the chaos that was your brand-new room. A pawn is on a different square, leering at you from the other wall, as if smiling, a flashing sign above its head, calling to you, hoping you’ll pay attention.

You almost think nothing of it; things can move, can’t they? Perhaps there was a shift in the earth overnight… Though, that makes little sense when you think about it rationally.

It’s strange, that much is certain. You remember the realtor telling you about the ghosts, and though you aren’t inclined to believe in haunted houses and scary stories, you find a part of yourself questioning the logic of the chess piece.

You are certain it was on the correct square before you slept.

It’s the only thing on your mind as you get ready, suffer through a tasteless breakfast, and throw on a rain jacket to combat the dreary weather. You’re meeting a friend for lunch—the only friend you have in this town. Sigma is the sole reason you decided to move here, instead of the other arbitrary cities that you’d been desperate to escape to.

Still, the board won’t leave your mind. You take one last glance at it before, on a whim, pushing the opposite color pawn forward as well.

Then you leave, hoping that a conversation with your friend will take your mind off the strangeness of that happenstance, the anxiety you feel about moving to a new place, a new job where no one knows you, a home that stays cold, despite the heat that reigns with long summers.

The walk to the cafe is short, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, you are miserable, your hands wrinkling from the dampness, even within your pockets.

Sigma is waiting for you, his lavender and white hair loose over his shoulders as he peruses the menu, eyes darting across it like he’s never read it before.

You sit, offer him a greeting, and though your conversation is cordial, the two of you catching up on your day, you eventually ask the question you’ve been dying to know.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Sigma stops, puts the utensil back down on his plate, and regards you with a thin frown. “Did something happen?”

You think of the chess piece, wonder if another will be moved when you get home. “No, but—”

“I told you not to move into that house,” he says, eyes narrowing. Sigma refuses to step into that mansion, grows anxious every time you mention it. “Over ten people have died there. Do you want to get murdered?”

“No particularly,” you say, staring at him flatly, your mouth pulling into a line. “But I’ve made it one night already. I’ll be fine.”

A hard laugh leaves him, as he shakes his head, unamused by your cheekiness. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it? Then they all die.”

“Very dramatic.” You take a long sip of your water. Sigma’s features don’t crack in the slightest as he stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not scared. I just want to know if you believe in ghosts or not… Because I don’t.”

Sigma’s eyes flit across your face, searching for any hint of a lie, for any signs of fear. When he finds none, his hands stretch across the table, lacing them together as he glares. “Whether you believe in ghosts or not doesn’t matter. There’s something evil about that house, and you’re putting yourself in danger by living there.”

The conversation with Sigma weighs on your mind for hours after, when you return home, still thinking about the chess board. It was just as you’d left it, two pawns moved forward, staring each other down menacingly. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You sigh and finally put it out of your mind. It was just a coincidence, that’s all. The piece was probably on the wrong square all along, and you’d been too tired last night to notice it.

Instead, you focus your sights on unpacking, and contemplate what to do with the portrait hanging above the mantel.

It’s a dusty old thing, one that the previous owners had, for some reason, never taken down. It had hung over the mantel for centuries, the corners faded from the sun, but the sinister grin of the subject never losing its effect.

You tilt your head, stare at it from a different angle. Looking at it that way, you could, perhaps, see why the painting appealed to them. It’s old, with a style from a different century, and the man composed of deep shadows and pale colors is undeniably handsome. He seems out of place in the portrait, trapped there, too otherworldly to be captured on such a canvas. His features are sharp, molded out of something tougher than diamonds, something more beautiful than this plane is able to comprehend. His deep eyes seem to know all as they stare at you, trace you across the room.

For minutes, you are hypnotized, before a wave of disgust washes over you, and you turn away, unable to look at it any longer. You’ll sell it, you decide. Maybe it will be worth a pretty penny.

That evening, you decide to look into it, but the search into a local art dealer doesn’t get far. When you sit down at your laptop, beginning to type your question into the browser, the lid shuts on your fingertips.

It takes a moment for you to register what had happened. A faint sting dances along the back of your hands, your knuckles tender as you lift the lid back up. Lines bounce along the screen, as if the imprint of your hand had made its way into the pixels, matching the pulse of your nerves.

You curse lowly, hoping that a reset will fix the issue.

The lid had just fallen, nothing serious. It was a newer model, but those things could happen. Issues with the manufacturing, with the way it was assembled. Technology fails you all the time.

You hold the power button, irritated, and upset, when a horrible, screeching noise echoes from the computer. Nothing but a shrill scream, the speakers begging you for help. You slam it shut once more, and the noise stops, but your heartbeat doesn’t slow down.

Shit.

Tomorrow, you’ll have to take it in, and see if anyone can discern the issues. It’s not ideal, but there’s so many things to still need to do, and a broken laptop makes those things very difficult.

You sigh, pushing the chair back into the table. The portrait looms above you as you retreat back to your room, hands shaking. It’s irrational, you know it is, but you swear his eyes follow you all the way up the stairs.

It doesn’t take long for you to start believing in the ghost that is haunting your manor, the one who has let you live for a week and who plays a new game of chess every time your back is turned. Whoever it is, they are much better than you; so far, you’ve lost twice—haven’t even gotten close to winning.

He hides things from you, items that you are needing for the next day, papers that you can’t submit to work on time because the important files have been stashed away.

You find your books opened to paragraphs the ghost seemingly finds interesting, your sheet music scattered in a mess when you return. The candles get blown out unexpectedly, and doors slam when you’re not suspecting it.

If he’s trying to scare you—it isn’t working. You remain in the house, sometimes talking to him like he’s a friend, whispering amongst the walls that know all of the secrets in your home.

You stop at the library on your free weekend, flipping through a dusty copy of the local legends, only stopping when you find your home. There’s a copy of the painting there—your painting, the one that still hangs above your mantel, despite your better judgment.

Beside it, there’s a painting of your home, done when the house was first built. The outside of it is a differently color entirely, the garden in front blooming with pink and yellow flowers. It looks cheerful; the home of a warm and loving family, inviting and kind to each of the neighborhood children. Nothing like the dark manor it is today, with a dead garden in the front and shutters that keep even an ounce of light out.

You read the pages proceeding the painting. The first owner had been a kind man, but the next were not such. After the original owner lost his wealth, he sold the house, passed it to a line of greedy men, ones that were focused only on their money. For a century, it went on this way—until a man named Fyodor Dostoevsky purchased the home for twice as much as it once was.

He was the one who changed it, renovated it, upgraded it to his own personal style, ensuring that it fit in with the times and his own opinions of luxury. Fyodor was charming, but ruthless, deadly with his own intelligence, owning half the town as they lost their money to his schemes.

Fyodor’s rein came to an end when he was poisoned by his closest friend, perhaps the one man he had trusted. It was the first murder in a string of ones to follow within the house.

You close the book, unsure if you regret the knowledge you’d gained or not.

The house feels colder now that you know the history of it. As if you can see the cruelty etched into every wall. Colors of the home bleed into each other, a pastel yellow of warmth and light, and the next room empty, almost uninhabitable, with its royal purples.

You stare at the portrait as you make dinner, feeling like you can never escape the gaze of those oil painted eyes. He has a name now—Fyodor. It feels even more disarming now that you know more about him than he’ll ever know about you.

And though Fyodor watches you, every night, from every angle, you convince yourself it’s just the way that the painting is situated. It would be foolish to think that he’s really watching every move you make, irises pinned on your form, unblinking.

The oven heats up behind you as you cut up your food, humming a soft tune to yourself. It’s getting hotter outside – you’d almost forgotten how miserable the summers could be. You forget every year, even though you’ve lived many.

Just as you’re getting lost in your thoughts, going through a list of things that need to get done in your fixer-upper home, you hear a scratch behind you.

It’s a quick sound, so quick that you almost think it was only your imagination. It’s enough to give you pause, your humming fading out into the night as your eyes dart around your house. Although you’ve tried not to let urban legends get the best of you, you’re paranoid in this aged mansion now.

A few seconds pass. You listen to the sound of your own heartrate, feel it pounding in your chest as you will it to calm down. It’s just enough time for you to convince yourself that it was nothing, that you’re far too nervous about silly ghosts to think rationally.

Though as you turn, a knife flies from the counter, just grazing your cheek, but enough to cause a scratch to open up against the skin. Your finger draws away scarlet as you press it to the wound, staring at the painted crevices of your fingertip.

You can’t move. Despite every cell in your body begging, screaming at you to move, you’re frozen, trapped in the four walls of that kitchen as you stare at your bloodied hand.

It’s all a dream, you repeat to yourself. A dream.

One that you don’t wake up from.

Time passes strangely, when every muscle in your body is on edge, your head pounding from the anxiety that spikes throughout your nervous system. A bead of sweat drips from your temple, and though you aren’t sure how long you stand there, nothing else happens. The knife remains lodged in the wall behind you, and the ghost makes no other attempt to lodge one into your stomach.

It’s quiet. There’s no noise, save for the music that plays softly from your phone.

After you regain control of your racing heartrate, you realize that the song playing isn’t what you’d put on originally. It had switched to a gentle, classical piece. Tchaikovsky, you think… or something similar. Something that a man from a different era would be familiar with.

“Who’s there?” You find yourself saying, perhaps stupidly. “What do you want?”

There’s no response – of course there isn’t. You’re talking to the air. To a ghost. No one had gotten inside the house. You’d checked more than enough times, just as you always did.

“I live here now,” you offer, thinking that, perhaps anger is not the best course of action. Neither is fear, though, if the scary movies you’d watched as a teenager had been any indication. “But I’ll leave, if you want me to.”

There’s no answer to that either.

You sigh, and deflate once more, trying to make yourself believe that there was a logical explanation to knives flying and playlists changing. Just as you’d made yourself believe that everything the “ghost” had done before was just a game, innocently played.

Perhaps, there was never a ghost at all. It could be that stress is driving you to insanity.

With a glass of wine in your hand, you finish up dinner, feeling like you are at your wit’s end. How is it that only a few weeks in this house has already singed your mind, turned you into a believer of things that you are not?

The portrait feels like an omen, staring at you with violet eyes, as you wonder where Fyodor is now. Does he watch you when your home, cooking, as you shower, a vicious gaze tracing over each curve of your body, with a sickening thought of all the things he wishes to do to you?

You shiver. It’ s been a while since anyone’s looked at you with a hint of desire. The feeling has become foreign, now, but you can still recall the gratification that comes with being wanted, how it makes you feel, if only for a moment, comfortable in your own skin.

That thought alone quickly snaps you out of your irrational behavior. Thinking of a ghost wanting you? A man that had been buried in the earth for so long that his body would be nothing more than bones?

This house was making you sick, you concluded, wrapping your leftovers up in plastic and tinfoil, placing them in the fridge. Your nervous friend was right – you never should’ve moved into this house, and you never should have stayed this long.

Your hands shook along the banister, heart racing around every corner. You expected that, maybe, you would see a dark-haired spirit there, his body translucent, but still corporeal. Though, there was no spirit hiding within the depths of the shadows, lurking in the places where he still belonged. No sounds startled you, caused you to jump as you brushed your teeth, completed the one last routine of your day.

The bed was colder than usual as you climbed into it, like a flush of a cold spot had settled within the sheets. You remembered what they said about temperatures and ghosts—how they changed, nothing able to survive in the places that they haunted, as they were not of this world, but something in between, something unnatural.

Your lamp flickers as you turn it on, and it’s just one more red flag you choose to ignore. In houses as old as this one, there are issues like that. The wiring is faulty, the electric needs to be monitored, a laundry list of items you will probably never resolve.

There are a thousand rational conclusions, though, and only one irrational one, which puts your mind at ease. Things like flickering lamps and cold spots can be explained simply, even if knives flying at your face cannot.

Still, you settle into bed, deciding that you will talk to the realtor again soon. You’ll move in with Sigma if he’ll have you. Anything to put your mind at ease for good.

That night, you dream of Fyodor, as if he is there right in the room with you, looming above you with those deep, violent eyes. His fingers, long and pale, trace across your cheekbones, as your eyes flutter open, consciousness coming back to you.

He says your name – it’s no surprise he knows it, after living with you for so long. It’s spoken softly, with a hint of possession behind it, like you belong to him. And yet, you’ve never said a word to him, even if all this time, he’s gotten to know you better than anyone else ever has.

You expect a scream to leave your throat, some hint of surprise, of fear, even, to see a stranger in your bedroom. To see him watching you with those familiar eyes, hair falling over his pale forehead as he gazes down at you from the edge of the bed.

No sound emerges.

Your mind feels a little fuzzy, hazy at the edges as you blink at him, closer to a state of intoxication, than you are alertness. Despite that awareness, you can’t seem to snap out of it; maybe you don’t want to. Instead, you sink deeper into the warmth, the honeyed feeling that comes with turning off your rationality. Everything feels as if it’s coming through in blurred, rosy glasses.

“Fyodor,” you mouth, instead of the scream that you’d anticipated, his name coming out in two wistful syllables.

You should hate him – there’s something in your instincts pushing back at you. A flash of a knife, the days of chaos and uncertainty, where you were sure you were losing your mind, come back at you.

But none of that seems to matter now, as you trace your finger across his cheek, feeling the sharp indent below the high bone. His eyelashes are a shade lighter than his hair, soft as they flutter over his forehead. The portrait of him didn’t do him justice… or perhaps, it is in death that he has found his purest form.

“I’m too tired.”

You’re not sure where those words even come from. Calm, like this is nothing but routine, and waking up with Fyodor beside you is the closest thing to normalcy.

He smiles at you, leaning over you again on the bed, lips pulled tightly together in a morbid grin. It does little to sour your mood, to scare you into action, even if you can’t quite understand why.

“I know,” he replies.

It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, a deep, accented sound smoothing against your ears as he traces his gaze against each of your features; musical, almost. His voice calms you, lulls you back into a meditative state.

You reach for him, in a trance, and twirl a strand of his hair between your finger, just to see if he’d let you. After the hell you’d been through the past week, well – was it really that miserable? He seems content to watch over you, observe the gentle movements of his dark hair coiled up around your pointer finger.

“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice softer than a whisper, carried away by the wind until it never existed at all.

Fyodor never disappears from your line of sight, even when you try to blink, to close your eyes. He’s there, gazing at you with a lustful fondness, one that’s dangerous, perhaps even malicious. If it’s a dream, it sure feels like a vivid one.

“You wanted to leave,” he says, taking your finger away from his face, before bringing it to his lips. The kiss is barely there, and his mouth is cold, chapped, from the brutality of the afterlife. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Hm?” You try to sit up. It takes more effort than it should’ve – you’re so relaxed, so weak, that you fall back down, letting yourself sink into the plushness of the pillow. “Why?”

Fyodor releases your hand, before touching his own finger to your mouth. It’s slender, like a piece of ice, gently parting your lips before grazing your chin, hovering over your neck. Then, he drops his touch to your collarbone. He stakes a claim on every inch of your skin, pausing as he reaches your chest, still covered by the blankets.

Your clothing is thin – it wouldn’t take much effort to get his cool hands on your bare skin. But he refrains, still smiling before answering your question, tucking his hands together onto his lap. “It’s been so long.”

It doesn’t make sense, but you can’t muster up the effort to question him, not when he’s contemplating every word, like he’s hesitant to scare you away. You let him think, watch him ponder, as you stare, too exhausted to move a muscle.

“I thought you’d be like all the rest,” he says, taking a seat next to you on the bed, nearly touching your hip. “They were nothing but filth, stains in these halls. It’s a crime for them to ever think that they belonged here. In my home.”

You blink. “It’s my home, too,” you say, suddenly filled with an immense amount of dread. It crawls up your neck, chokes you, and nothing leaves you but garbled sounds, as you panic.

Fyodor doesn’t move – there is no twitch in his features, as he watches you with disguised adoration, a kind you didn’t think a ghost capable of revealing. “Of course it is, darling,” he says, so softly, it could’ve been mistaken for kindness. Fyodor leans down, presses his cold, dead lips to your cheek, a kiss of death. “That’s why I couldn’t let you leave. It’s your home. You belong here.”

“Right,” you breath, steadying yourself, before nodding. “My home.” Once more, you gaze around the room, your eyes flicking over every surface. Things are exactly as you’d left them, nothing out of place. “With you?”

The ghost smiles, and reaches out to you, finally helping you into a seated position. Your neck is so stiff, in pain, and you roll it around, feeling nothing there when you expect shifting bones. “With me,” Fyodor confirms, running his icy fingertips across your throat, tangling them with your hair.

He leans into you, pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth, one that catches you off balance, before you accept it with an eagerness that surprises you further. It doesn’t feel unfamiliar, instead, it’s as if you’re coming home, like the man you’ve never seen until now was always meant to find you.

A thought that should’ve scared you, even though it doesn’t.

Fyodor pulls away, right as you begin to shift forward, maneuver yourself onto his lap. “You should rest,” he replies, keeping you at a distance. “It might take some time to adjust.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” you blink, holding onto his wrist as your gaze shifts from his impossibly dark eyes to the mirror across the room.

There, in the darkness of the evening, shrouded in moonlight, you can see your reflection staring back at you, eyes vacant, lifeless. You expect to see yourself as nothing but exhausted, but when you draw your gaze across the image of yourself, there is blood seeping from your neck, a stream of scarlet. There is thick gash across your throat, slashed so deep that it would’ve killed you instantly.

The expression on your face shifts from one of calm to horror, as you scrape at your neck, trying to clear off the blood that isn’t really there, the permanent wound that will follow you even into your death.

“What did you do?” you scream, tears rolling down your cheeks, even though you can’t feel them, can only see them in the mirror. “What did you do to me?”

Fyodor smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Though you fight against him, he takes you into his arms, and you are too weak to fight him off. “I told you,” Fyodor says, shushing you, running his palm over your head as you scream. “I couldn’t let you leave.”

thank you for reading !

[mncxbe]

I got my eye on youೀ๋࣭ ⭑

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff to soul soothing smut, dry humping, creampie, gentle, subby (sobbing) Fyodor, not proofread// now playing "Say yes to heaven"

Fyodor had his eye on you from the first moment he saw you– a pretty face buried in a hard cover volume of some novel he hasn't heard of, sitting in the back of the coffee shop he frequented with a cup of hot coffee before you. That was months ago and to this day he still hasn't forgotten the blush that tinted your cheeks when you met his gaze. Fyodor has never thought of himself as the type of man to be interested in relationships; he had his goals and his endeavours left little to no space for romance in his life– but he couldn't help it this time. Not with you.

So instead of averting his gaze from you, instead of paying his tab and leaving the coffee shop like he was supposed to, Fyodor came to your table and struck up a conversation.

He didn't expect the one time meeting to turn into regular dates at the museum and walks around Tokyo's busy streets at sunset after your shift at the library ended. At first, your relationship progressed slowly– neither of you willing to make the next step. He was often out of town, carrying out different shady business on behalf of his organization but although your bond didn't have a set lable, he knew without a shred of doubt that his heart belonged to you. That he loved you.

Months after your first meeting, he found himself coming to your place more and more often. Your invitations were most innocent– "I just wanna play a game of chess with you" you claimed every time but Fyodor wasn't stupid. He could tell by your loose behaviour and the fleeting glances you gave him that you were after something more. A lingering touch on his shoulder here, a dress hiked a bit too high there; yea, he knew what you wanted and still couldn't bring himself to give it to you.

Problem was, he actually cared about you. He wasn't willing to risk putting you in any danger by forming a deeper bond with you. Some nights, when thoughts of you kept him up 'till the break of dawn, he wondered if you two could actually work– he was smart enough to keep your relationship safe from his enemies' eyes, his precious little secret. But were his own selfish desires worth endangering you?

No, it wasn't worth it. Surely wasn't worth the risk but even a rational and composed man like him was bound to cave in eventually. That's how you ended up between the plush pillows on your bed, with Fyodor prettily sprawled under you. His hair was like a dark halo against your cream coloured pillow case, so silky you couldn't help but run your fingers through it.

"You're so pretty, Fedya" you mumbled between soft kisses, gently tugging at his roots. The man only hummed in response, his hips bucking up against your clothed core providing a much needed friction. Fyodor was on cloud nine, melting like cotton candy on your tongue as you deepened the kiss– his arms wrapped tightly around your hips, keeping you flush against him.

He wasn't used to such closeness between you– the way your love for him spilled from your plump lips into him, the hushed whispers and praises driving him closer to the edge. "Myshka... wait a moment" he chuckled weakly, his slender hands coming to rest on your hips, halting your movements but you wouldn't have it. Prying his shaky hands away from your body you resumed your movements, making the man whimper softly

"Fedya, my love, don't worry about it just let go. Relax..." you purred against the shell of his ear. Your hands trailed over his clothed arm— their touch electrifying, burning the bare skin underneath. Fyodor felt so helpless in your arms, rutting his hips against you as he pushed himself closer to the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly as he tried to keep himself in check— strange, it was so strange how someone else's touch could make his hard exterior crumble. You touched his heart like no one else and still, he denied himself your comfort and love for so long... Now that he finally had it he was scared, overwhelmed, so weak in this unfamiliar territory.

You felt his hot tears against your skin before he was aware of them. "Fedya, you alright?" you asked sweetly, your lips brushing against his temple but he didn't answer. Instead, his mouth found your neck as he left wet, needy kisses along its expanse "'m sorry, dear think i'm gonna– shit i'm gonna cum soon" . His voice was cracked, barely above a whisper, betraying the desperate state he was in. A chuckle rolled past your lips as you cradled him in your arms. "Don't you wanna do it inside me, baby? I wanna feel you"

It took all the self restraint he had not to cum on the spot– his mind going blank at the thought of spilling himself inside you. You wanted this too, right? So there was nothing wrong with it... Still, as he stripped you of your blouse and panties, Fyodor felt as if he were ridding himself of all the beliefs and rules his religion imposed on him– but he was willing to do even that for you.

A choked moan left his throat as he slid inside you, filling you up inch by inch "S-so tight..." he huffed, squeezing your hips with his hands in attempt to ground himself. "All for you, my love. I'm all yours" you hummed, your silken voice raising goosebumps on his skin. You began rolling your hips against his at a steady pace, ripping moans and pleas from the man below you.

"Please Y/N slow down~" he mumbled, sniffling softly and you brushed the tears at the corners of his eyes with your thumb. "Shhh you're doing great Fedya. So, so good for me. Just focus on feeling well, okay? Let me take care of you"

Your words were so sweet and loving he felt he was actually going to pass out. The liquid heat in his lower abdomen spread in his whole body, numbing the nagging thoughts and fears. His breathing grew heavier as he felt his orgasm approaching and it didn't take him long to cum inside you, filling you up with his creamy seed. A content hum left your lips as you slumped next to him, relishing the silence that settled between you.

"Hey..." you said eventually, twirling a silky strand of his hair between your fingers. Fyodor's gaze lowered to meet your soft eyes and he smiled. "What, my dear myshka?" he taunted, and you were glad to see that he was slowly getting back to his usual self.

"Nothing" you giggled, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek that almost had him melting. "Just wanted to know if you're alright." Fyodor's hand found yours amidst the crumpled sheets, his thumb tracing idly along your knuckles.

"It was wonderful, really. It's just that I never felt like this with anyone else." he finally admitted. And it was true– there had been no one else in his life before and surely won't be after.

"Never ever?"

"Never" he insisted, watching the corners of your lips stretch into a soft smile. Your free hand finally abandoned his hair, sliding down to cradle his face as you leaned closer to him. Close, so, so close it had his stomach churning. It's as if you had him under your spell.

"Well, I'm glad" you added, nuzzling your nose against his "I wouldn't mind doing this again"

"And I wouldn't mind trying something more with you" he said back, his gaze unwavering as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Would you like to be mine? Officially, I mean"

You couldn't help but giggle at his serious tone "Is that a marriage proposal or are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Just my girlfriend, for now. So, will you say yes?" he chuckled, giving you one of those soft looks reserved for your eyes only.

"Yea, of course" you giggled "I mean it was about time you asked. I was starting to believe you were no longer interested"

In that moment, Fyodor wanted to confess his undying love for you, to reassure you that his heart was yours from now 'till the end of time, but he knew it'd be a bit too dramatic for him. So he simply sealed his promise with a kiss. "Silly girl. I could never get tired of you"

[kolyubov]

Kiss me hard before you go ✮⋆˙

✧ pairing: College Student!Fyodor x Fem!Reader

✧ nonnie requested: Hiii! Your work is amazing. If you have the time I'd like to request a collage AU Fyodor x reader. Where Fyodor is like the typical "star student" who is popular but doesn't really care much for most people in the school. And then a new student comes around who has the potential to rival him in both popularity and studies, but instead he falls deeply inlove (like, he is whipped) after meeting her during one of his chess sessions with Dazai (reader and Dazai are friends). But reader kind of only takes Fyodor's advances as a technique to manipulate her and ignores them. If you want to do a one shot it could be, for example, about reader getting in trouble with a teacher, first time meeting, a party, confession, first kiss or everything in one. But headcanons/scenarios are also greatly appreciated. You can take away some parts if needed and I'm okey with nsfw, if you want to go there. And understand fully if this gets ooc, delusion is my favorite poison :)

✧ word count: 3.7k

✧ contents: nsfw, fingering (f!receiving), praise, teasing, Fyodor is ooc, slight public fingering, roughness (if you squint). If I missed any warnings please kindly let me know!

✧ author's note: nonnie, I love you so much for bringing all of these ideas, they’re all so so amazing. I twisted it a bit, taking away some things and adding others, but hope you like it either way<3

The class was highly boring. The teacher's explanation has long been ignored by almost everyone inside the small classroom— Some people were chatting silently in the back of the class, others even playing cards underneath the desk and others simply sleeping.

Well, it seems like either she has very bad sight or just decides to ignore lazy students since they probably won't listen even after she threatens to send them to the principal's office.

You, sitting almost in the front row, couldn't enjoy slacking off because she would most likely notice and find it disrespectful, which would eventually lead to getting in trouble.

But the sleepiness was starting to get you.

You were resting your face against your palm, eyelids heavy as you fought to stay awake.

Slowly, the teacher's voice seemed to grow distant.

Before you can gladly slip into the land of dreams, someone kicks your foot, making you flinch awake once more. Turning to your side, Dazai was chuckling.

“I don't want you getting in trouble y’know? You still have to come with me to my chess session after class.” He flashes you a mocking pout before returning his attention to the teacher— He wasn't listening either, after all, he had earbuds on.

Oh, right, you promised Dazai to go to his chess session because he "would feel lonely if his bestie is not there”. Actually, he probably just wanted to show off his abilities since he knew you lack of understanding in chess. At least that's what you thought.

Dazai told you he usually has this session with Dostoevsky, the top student with the best grades on campus. Nobody truly knows who of the two is the best, but no one can deny their big brains. You inevitably roll your eyes at the thought of two smarties having a deep conversation in front of you during their chess game.

The two of them were popular, though Fyodor doesn't seem to care about it. He doesn't want more friends than the two weirdos he's with, nor does he care about having a good relationship with other people on the campus— When someone asks him for help about a certain subject, he shoves them off by telling them “Go ask the teacher about it.”

Dazai on the other hand, it's much more social and gets along with almost everyone, but he has very few people whom he really trusts. You are one of them.

The bell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Everyone stood up as quickly as they could to leave this tedious class and get some fresh air. Sadly, you had to face yet another unamusing event.

You took a deep breath.

Maybe this wasn't too bad? You had to think positively. Maybe you could even learn something from these two nerds.

You stretched your arms up, relaxing your muscles and letting out a soft groan before standing up from your chair and putting your things back in your bag. Dazai did too, and after you two had gathered your things, you left the classroom.

You don't know Fyodor at all. Other than knowing he's fighting for the Top Student position with Dazai and that he has two friends— everything else about him is an enigma.

You can't deny you were at least a bit excited about seeing him perform his chess tactics. Despite your lack of knowledge about the game.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♱ ˚₊‧⁺˖

After walking along with Dazai for a while, going upstairs to the last floor of the building, where there were empty classrooms reserved for club activities, you stand in front of the chess club door. The hallway was quite empty, and not a lot of people chose to participate in clubs these days— You knew these rooms were mostly for other activities that went from occultism to having sex. However the latter doesn't happen anymore since cameras were installed. You're thankful for that.

“Don't be scared of Fyodor. He won't bite as long as I'm here.” Dazai laughs softly as he opens the door of the room. His words only make you frown at him.

The room was quite spacious and there were a few other students playing chess too. There was a nice silence around. The only noise is the chess pieces being placed on the chessboard with each turn.

“You're late as always, Dazai.”

Your attention is drawn to Fyodor, who's sitting with his arms and legs crossed, one above the other; a stoic expression on his face.

He was wearing a black long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, his coat was hanging on the back of his chair, his hair was tucked behind his ear and you noticed that he had a silver necklace with a cross.

Your fingers twitch slightly and your heart beats a little faster.

Ah, he is prettier up close.

What? No.

You didn't realize that you were staring at him for so long until his dark purple eyes went to your face and he raised an eyebrow.

Fyodor eyed you up and down as if you were a piece of meat for him to enjoy. The way your body tenses under his gaze; hands sneaking behind your back, lips pressing together, eyes trying to look anywhere but his. All of it gives him the hint that you'll be a nice prey.

“Oh? You brought a guest I see.” Fyodor smiles at you briefly, kindly, before looking back at Dazai who was placing his bag on the floor and sitting in front of him. He was very calm though he was facing another smart man such as him.

“She's my lucky charm.” He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, unamused. You sat in front of the small square table, arms crossed, ready to watch the development of this game.

“Shall we begin, then, Dazai?”

“Of course.” Dazai giggles, wasting no time grabbing a white piece and making his move. “Seems like I have the upper hand today.”

Fyodor smirks, his slim fingers moving so delicately as he takes his turn.

Both of them seemed very relaxed as they played. Discussing random topics, and speaking with difficult words made it a little hard for you to understand their conversation.

But the tension was slowly starting to build up— Each turn was beginning to take more than a couple of seconds. They were taking their time before making any movements, and the smiles on both of the men's faces were starting to disappear as they went silent.

You, on the other hand, were almost falling asleep like back in class. What was the point of watching them play if you didn't understand how the game goes? Plus, they were in complete silence, how was this supposed to help you learn more about their stupid smart brains?

Ah, might as well take a little nap then.

“Shit.”

Dazai groaned in annoyance as his phone suddenly vibrated, distracting him from the game. After seeing who was calling, he stood up from the chair and walked out of the room without even excusing himself.

Your eyes followed Dazai as he left the room, lips parted in confusion.

Great, now you were left alone with Dostoevsky— Well… almost. There were other people playing chess in the room too but they were minding their own business.

Fyodor sighs, looking down at the chessboard before looking at you and tilting his head to the side.

Of course, he was going to take advantage now that the two of you were alone. He was eyeing his little prey and hopefully, he could get a pretty reaction if he pushed the right buttons.

God, forgive him for being so greedy.

“Do you want to play?”

You look in his direction, blinking a few times in confusion.

Telling him that you don't know how to play was going to be embarrassing as hell. He was going to make fun of you, probably. But, you didn't know that he could read you like a book. So Fyodor already noticed that you didn't understand the rules of chess.

You press your lips together, avoiding his penetrating gaze that makes something inside you tingle.

“I'll teach you, just pay attention because I'm not going to repeat myself.”

You nod, giving him a shy smile before taking Dazai's seat while begging internally for him to come back. Was that call so damn important?

“Move Knight to e6.”

“Sorry— what?”

Fyodor raises an eyebrow, waiting for your move. Like he said, he won't be telling you the same thing twice.

Looking down at the chessboard, you try to identify who's the “Knight”— Which wasn't so difficult, but now you have to move it somewhere you don't know.

When your eyes move from the board to him, you can see he's smiling. Oh, god. You hope Fyodor doesn't notice the way your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

But he did.

As if reading your mind again. Fyodor stands up from his seat and walks behind you; One hand on the back of your chair and the other pointing at a square from the chessboard. Dark locks of hair tickle your cheeks, a faint scent of coffee emanating from him. Would his lips taste like coffee too?

You press your thighs together, lowering your head down a little as his chest grazes against your back slightly; you can't help but feel smaller against him.

“…Now, did you understand?”

His smooth voice rings against your ear; low as if he was telling you a secret. Hell. You could even feel his lips brushing against the helix of your ear.

“I—”

You're interrupted before you can speak.

“Well, seems like we need to continue this game for later, Dos—”

Dazai stops in front of you with his phone in hand. His eyes opened wide and his lips parted in surprise.

“You two are getting along I see.” He snorts, grabbing his bag from the floor. “I’m leaving though, have fun. See you tomorrow, Dostoyevsky.” And with that, Dazai walks out the door again.

You panic.

You can't be alone with Dostoyevsky again after knowing how nervous you get with him close; how you look at him with a dumb expression after he speaks because you're too focused on his pretty features.

Fuck. No, what are you thinking about? He's not that handsome.

Fyodor is a smart man, he's probably just teasing you with light touches to rail you up and make fun of you later for being so easy. There's no way you're going to let this man play with your mind as if it is his toy.

“Wait! Osamu!” You quickly leave the chair, grabbing your bag as well and leaving behind Dazai.

For a small second you turn around. Fyodor's eyes met with yours; he was smiling again. Your eyes widened and you swore you could read his lips saying “Goodbye, my dear.”

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♱ ˚₊‧⁺˖

It's been a few days since you last interacted with Fyodor. And, since that first and —hopefully— last encounter, you were trying to avoid him.

You don't want to fall deeper into him.

After Dazai saw you two being very close, he kept messing with you about it.

“You two would make a great combination. The not-so-smart introvert girl and the top student intimidating Dostoyevsky… top student after me of course.”

“Why do you blush every single time he speaks? Do you think his voice is hot or something?”

“I saw you staring at Dostoyevsky in class today, are you sure you don't like him, hm?”

What a nuisance.

Of course, you didn't like him. You were trying to avoid him at all costs. Doesn't that make your dislike for him much more obvious?

In fact, you were sure you hated him.

Each time he spoke in class he always answered right with that unamused expression and with that egocentric tone that makes you roll your eyes.

There was no way you could fall for someone like him.

You sigh, currently walking down the hallway to the library, hoping to find some rest and silence from the noisy students and from your stupid brain that had been thinking about Dostoyevsky these last days.

The library had an old tone to it; yellowish lights and dark brown old shelves that went from the floor to the ceiling. Two floors full of books from all the subjects any student could find for their projects or to pass the time.

Even if it was full of people, the silence was almost absolute if it wasn't for a few people whispering and giggling. Still, it was a very peaceful place. Sometimes you wish you could stay here forever.

Since you know the place very well, you went straight to your favorite spot in the enormous library— It was under a stair, where there was an old dark green couch that was kind of comfy, enough to spend more than a few hours reading on it.

You remember leaving a book yesterday on the couch, after all, nobody went there; it was after walking through a long-ass corridor and after a few turns. Who would explore this big library completely like you did? No one, of course.

Well… You were wrong.

“What the fuck?”

“Hm? What a wonderful surprise…”

Seriously?

You cross your arms in front of your chest while looking down at Fyodor who was sitting on the couch with your book in his hands. You were trying to avoid him and he was the one that came to you. Funny.

Fyodor closed the book, placing it to the side before leaning back with his legs spread and his arms crossed as well.

“Nice book. You have good taste, sweetheart.”

The hell with this—

You turn around ready to leave, but he quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him until you are standing in between his legs. His dark eyes look up at you.

“Why are you avoiding me? I'm not stupid, I see everything, you know?”

He loosens his grip on your wrist, his thumb caressing the back of your hand slowly. From this close, you can see his dark circles and his pale skin. Damn, he looks like a vampire…

“It's none of your business.” You frown, pushing his hand away.

“Do I make you so nervous, hm?”

Fyodor grins, leaning back once more. His smug expression only makes you more mad and you're beginning to wonder if he's doing it on purpose to get a kick out of this like last time.

He can't deny that he's enjoying it; You're so easy to get riled up that it's almost boring. Though your pretty pouty face is worth it.

“Shut up. You're in my seat. Leave.” You tried to keep a stern voice but Fyodor didn't budge from his seat.

“I'm not moving. If you want to sit on this couch so badly, might as well sit on my lap.” He pats his thigh, giving you a smirk.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He was playing with you again, probably laughing internally too— thinking you're just a stupid silly girl who can fall so easily into his trap.

He was using you as his entertaining resource.

Fine. You might as well play along.

With a hum, you flop on his lap, getting comfortable and leaning your back against his chest to which Fyodor immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Such an obedient girl.”

You squirm on his lap, feeling how butterflies flutter inside your tummy. While trying to mask your sudden arousal, you reached for the book you wanted to read and opened it to where you left it before. While doing so, Fyodor's large fingers start kneading on your waist, slowly, as if he was savoring the feeling of your body against his palms.

“Are you enjoying your reading?”

You nod. The truth is that you can't even read with his hands exploring your waist and his pretty voice against your ear. You're only looking at empty words in the book, your mind not paying attention to the sentences or paragraphs.

Fyodor's hand brushed against your neck, and the coldness of it made you flinch. He pushed your hair aside, exposing your neck to him.

“Why don't you read for me out loud?”

“Why should I?” You shrug, completely leaning against his body again, trying to suffocate him or something— though it seems like having the contrary effect as his hands pull your hips to him.

“I want to know if you're focused on your little book or me.”

Cocky bastard.

You clear your throat to begin with your reading, but as soon as you open your mouth, his lips brush against the skin of your neck, leaving a small peck.

“Go on. I'm waiting, dear.”

Then, he presses another peck, waiting a few seconds before doing the same.

God. You can't react in this situation. Your body squirms with each touch or whisper. Your thighs pressed together and you look down at the book, trying to focus on the words but it's impossible.

“Ah—”

You whine, feeling his tongue teasing the crook of your neck before sucking on your skin. Arms wrapping around your waist again, caging you against him.

The air was starting to get heavy and you had already forgotten that you were in a public library; your mind getting foggy with the thought of what was going to happen eventually.

As he pulls away, kissing the new hickey he left, one hand wanders down to your thigh, squeezing it.

“You know you can leave if you don't want this, right?” You didn't answer, not wanting to fulfill his egocentric wishes.

“Hey, I'm talking to you.”

A hand slides to your neck, pressing a little, as he leans closer to your ear. He thrusts up while keeping your hips against his, trying to “fix” his position.

Ah, but you can feel his hardness against your ass.

“It seems like you're too shy to speak, so, let's do this; If you want to leave, just push my hands away from your body and I'll set you free…”

He chuckles, placing another peck on your neck.

“But if you don't want to leave… Spread those thighs for me, dearest.”

How humiliating; Your body was reacting on its own, and you spread your thighs for him. Without wasting any time, the hand that was on your hip slides inside your pants, lithe fingers finding the wet spot on your panties.

“Huh, how naughty.” You can hear him chuckling behind you.

You barely close your thighs again, feeling shy as his fingertips tease up and down your covered pussy, emanating soft moans from you. With your lips parted, he slid two fingers inside your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Suck on them and don't be loud, honey.” He whispers, kissing the back of your neck soothingly to distract you from the advance of his other two fingers over your pussy.

Pushing your panties aside, he groans at the wet and warm feeling. Coating his fingers with your arousal first before slowly inserting a finger. Fyodor rolls his eyes at the sensation— you were squeezing him so tight that he almost felt pity for your cunt; If you were already squeezing his finger so much, how would it be when he's balls deep inside you.

Saliva slips from your lips down your chin as you keep sucking on his other fingers that are keeping your mouth entertained. Trying your best not to moan out loud when his finger that was over your pussy began sliding in and out, reaching that sweet spot of yours with each thrust.

“I'm going to add another finger, pretty. Keep being good for me..”

Another groan leaves Fyodor's lips when you squeeze his finger at his praise. Oh, well, he was going to make sure to praise you lots then.

As his middle finger makes its way inside you and you whine at the stretching, his whole hand clads your mouth, not letting any noise escape from you.

“Fuck… Do you want someone to catch us?”

You shake your head from side to side, picturing how humiliating it would be if someone finds you sitting on Fyodor's lap and moaning because of his skilled fingers that reach where yours can't.

When his two fingers start moving, you're already in heaven. Grinding your hips and spreading your thighs further to give him space to go knuckles deep.

“Is my sweet angel going to cum on my fingers? Do it, dear, be a good girl for me.” Fyodor moans against your ear, slightly grinding his hips against yours as you approach your climax.

Your thighs close and you let out a muffled whimper as you come all over his fingers, walls clamping down on him as he presses his hand harder against your mouth, whispering sweet praises before sliding his sticky fingers out of your cunt and taking his hand off your mouth to let you breathe.

Fyodor is nice enough to push your panties back in place before removing his hand from your pants. His sticky fingertips tap your lower tip a few times so you can open up and lick them clean.

“Good girl…”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, caressing your cheek, and you take the opportunity to turn around and fall to your knees in front of him, placing your hands on his thighs. You might as well worship him like he did with you.

He was nice to you, so why not be nice to him as well? After all, you were eager to see what's underneath his intimidating façade.

“Ah— Right now it might not be the moment, dear.”

You frown, resting your cheek against his thigh.

“My apologies, but this place is quite risky, you already made a lot of noise and people might be wondering,” Fyodor smirks before leaning down to kiss the crown of your head as he removes his silver necklace to place it on your neck instead.

“We'll continue this another day, I promise.” He tilts your chin up, leaning in and kissing you slowly, slipping his tongue past your lips and groaning against your mouth while his hand squeezes your cheeks together, not letting you pull away before he's done with you.

So he does taste like coffee.

Fyodor withdraws, leaving one last peck on your lips before completely pulling away.

“Goodbye, my dear.”

Giving you one last soft smile, he stands up and walks away, leaving you sitting on the floor with red cheeks and heavy breathing.

You look down at the cross hanging from his necklace. Now resting on your chest.

God, you want to taste his lips again.

© 2024 pinklacydovey

[osachiyo]

brat tamer fedya…drooling so much rn

- 🪽

yes.

honestly, he’s very patient with you at first — he’s always so calm it pisses you off. any act of rebellion from you will almost never even faze him. you resist his kisses and hugs? fine then, he’s gonna ignore you until you cave in. you refuse to eat? you can starve until you can’t take it anymore — he never actually gets mad at you for your brattiness. it honestly just makes you want to see him lose his cool even more.

what does get him to lose his cool, though — is when you act up like that in front of his subordinates or worse — dazai. especially if you tease them — pretending you dropped something, so you can bend over and flash your panty clad pussy to them — the white fabric of the lace hugging your pussy lips so deliciously, that it makes the man drool and let out a whistle — only for fyodor to glare daggers into dazai.

a stunt like that almost always ends up with you on your knees, cockwarming fyodor with your mouth in front of dazai — while they play chess, pretending as if you weren’t even there. your face burns with humiliation when fyodor pushes your head down further, your nose pressing against the small bush on his pelvis.

and the most embarrassing thing about the whole thing would be how fucking soaked you were.

[nikosaki]

Please may I request Yandere fyodor with a reader who’s in love with dazai. Thank you, have a nice day/night

Yandere fyodor with reader crushing over Dazai

Summary: Uh oh! Having fyodor as someone who is obesesed with you and then going for dazai? Tsk tsk what a foolish bird you are!

Genre: yandere, dark content

Warnings: dark themes, manipulation, bite marks, gaslighting,

a/n: reader has some nerve to even look at dazai if it’s yandere fyodor💀

Oh hell naw- 💀

You think having a yandere Russian man stalking you 24/7 is not enough so much that you went to crush over another crazy maniac

Well lets be clear first, let’s say reader is in the Rats in the house of the dead then it would cause more conflict especially between the two geniuses.

Fyodor already has a whole chess game prepared now he wants his doll to play with?

Fyodor knows what goes on your head you can tell too whenever his eyes narrow when your feeling nervous, excited or sad, he know everything

Perhaps it was his mistake of introducing dazai to you, his darling was just so curious!

But fyodor knows he know whenever your eyes had this small form of heart whenever he talked about him or showed his picture.

It became worse when you and dazai met the first time, oh golly-

I am pretty sure dazai already knew about how you love him and though at first he thought he could use you, you look like quite the peculiar person.

Having the demons doll wrapped around his finger is such a great way to provoke him

Dazai is a smooth charmer just like fyodor, he probably takes things further each time you two meet

One time he would say soothing words, another kissing the back of your hand, complimenting your work, and maybe at times leaving a trace of him on you intentionally.

Maybe even going far as leaving a mark on you though I doubt fyodor would allow that.

If anything fyodor got pretty angry when he found out you two even interacted! How dare his doll chase after another man

Foe now he will let you ran into the man you love but when he confronts you a bout it..I hope you will be both physically and mentally prepared.

Dont look at me like that! Fyodor is a sadist and he loves punishing you whether it’s mentally or sexually.

I do think he would lock you in a room for days with no sunlight rather than do physical punishment. What will you blame him on? Touching you?

You can’t really it’s your fault, why did you ran into his arms, do you not know who you belong to? Do you want to leave him? Is he not enough for you?

All sorts of manipulation tactics will be used against you and at the end you will become more submissive.

I am pretty sure if dazai by any chance falls in love with you it would be better for fyodor, why does he need to be angry? disturbing Dazai by any way makes his ego grow!

Two birds with one stone.

In the end you will be far too of a lifeless doll who learned its lesson from living in a dim cell for far too long. How many days has it been? You do not know but atleast fyodor didn’t abandon you.

A/N: not proud of it too much *sigh*

[irasamu]

Imagine Fyodor’s fem!s/o treats him like somekind of loyalty, feeding them, bathing them,hugs and kisses, riding them, since his anemic weak ahh body probably have low stamina. I just can’t stop thinking about Fyodor. He is so handsome and adorable silly little pookie <3

. a fyodor drabble.

. um is this satisfactory?

. tw ; fem!reader, nsfw mixed with sfw.

feeding fyodor .

see, fyodor is a weak man and one who doesn't show much emotions and so, he feels grateful when you do these stuff without him even asking to. he doesn't show it through words but through actions,,

,,that is, he smiles or laughs in embarrassment when you feed him but when you try to move away, you can't due to his leg hooked with your's under the table.

"leaving a man half filled is very bad dear."

he isn't really clingy unless extremely tired. not really clingy when he is sick but if you are sick? no, he still isn't clingy lol.

but but but, the man will be more stern and more strict then normal if you try to protest him from feeding you,

"tch tch. your hands should be on the table where i can see them. am i clear?" fyodor spoke quietly yet with the way his head was tilted, you didn't have it in you to be a brat and defy him.

fyodor getting angry? uh yeah, sadism at it's peak.

bathing fyodor.

this really applies only if you are married to him but bathing fyodor always somehow, ends with you on top of him in the bathtub or sprawled uncomfortably on and in the bathtub while your cheeks are hallowed as you try to suck him dry.

fyodor isn't a man of action yada yada -- that doesn't apply over here. if he is getting naked, so will you.

so while you are lifting his hand to scrub some of the coconut and vanilla soap lather on his skin, he has his back pressed against your's as he traces shapes on your shoulder blades.

for some reason, most deep talks happens during bathtime and if fyodor finds you getting lost in the sensation of his touch on your back and that you aren't actually listening to his words? he will thrust his dick onto your ass cheeks whiles his hands rub down on your inner thigh but not quite where you want them to be.

see this as edging but not really actually edging.

also gonna spread my fyodor boob guy agenda here. they are now his stress toys and entertainment from boredom.

hugs and kisses.

see, fyodor has health issues so he really does lean more towards domestic affection so expect a side hug and kiss to the forehead whenever he greets you.

you on the other hand, boobs pressed against his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck and pepper his neck in small pecks till fyodor's cheeks turn slight pink.

if you aren't that good at chess, distract him with a kiss to the lips! (it won't work but you'll get a kiss from him).

at night, in bed, fyodor likes laying betwen both of your legs as his head rests on your clevage and he is thinking of whatever super genius plan he is going to use next while your hands comb through his hair. whenever you see him biting his fingers, you either pull at his roots which makes him groan quietly or swat his hand down which makes him look at you with eyes a bit wider then usual in confusion and a small frown tugging at his lips. he bites on your breast as revenge and as a form of obedience.

riding fyodor

he may have less stamina but oh man, the way he makes you fuck him. like no matter how good you are, he will instruct you on how to pleasure him.

remember the top para in the beginning where i mentioned angry fyodor and sadism?

okay so imagine he is angry for whatever reason, he will make sure to make you ride him even after you are reallllly overstimulated and if you stop, he would lazily look at you and pinch your clit between his fingers. he will spit at your clit and stomach and rub his saliva all over you, getting off to how messily erotic you look due to him.

when you cum, like a second or two after you calmed down, fyodor would spread your legs apart and thrust up in you to draw out a second orgasm.

he has weak stamina, not no stamina. he is smart enough to know when to conserve and when to use his energy and strength.

he won't let you stop till your thighs are red from his nail marks and till they are burning as hell, till you are a panting mess.

if you wanted to stop and tried to? fyodor will grab your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pull it back to arch your back and will literally use you like a ragdoll or fleshlight.

[cocktailjjrs]

Y'know

After thinking long and hard... maybe not everything is lost...

Why i think so?

Because of this...

We know Dazai and Fyodor have been playing their 5D chess this whole time, all the time having moves like - oh, i thought you would do this so i did this... I knew you were going to counter like this, so this is my next move... I was banking on you doing this to complete my next step... so on and so forth...

Here Dazai starts running to contact Ranpo, and we dont know exactly how much of a time difference is between the two events but we see Ranpo rushing to stop Fyodor from making his next move...

This implies, that both Dazai and Ranpo when strategizing DID think of the possibility of FYODOR BEING A VAMPIRE!!!

And if I've learned anything from BSD till date, it's the fact that when Dazai OR Ranpo think of something as a possible even turning against them - they always find a countermeasure for it.

And here we have Dazai AND Ranpo working together, they surely will have something else up their sleeves... Even if its something as basic as trusting the SSKK...

What do you guys think?

[remikuii]

I'm not sure if I can request, happy new year btw! I hope your new year goes so well, wishing you happiness.

About my request, if you are okay with it ofc I would like to request Reader who is really similar to Fyodor (Like smart, lonely and quiet most of the time etc) x Fyodor. I really wonder how Fyodor would act towards her! (You don't have to do this :), you can just share your ideas too if you don't feel like making this!!)

15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds

( ᪥ ) : i’m back y’all, i’m gone for days since i’ve been busy with studies lately. soo, another request !! i can’t mention you so i’ll reply to this one :>

characters : fyodor dostoevsky x reader

synopsis : oh, to be one of fyodor's enemies, he definitely cares about the written threats he will send you. well, fyodor's busy with writing something for his beloved enemy—Dazai, that he even threw multiple drafts to perfect his 'kanji". It goes on for exactly 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds while not giving you anything even a spare glance. Jealous for a certain piece of paper tainted with ink, you decided to challenge him on a one-on-one chess match.

warnings : nope because i said no HAHA

Looking around the lounge, you spotted the usual workaholic short raven hair, busy nipping on his fingers—must be having a hard time writing in kanji. You took the opportunity to invite him for a friendly chess match with you, which he couldn't easily decline.

"Please do enlighten me to why I should play chess with you, myshka." Fyodor simply took his eyes off the screen and ran his calloused yet delicate fingers on your cheeks.

Living with Fyodor, two years later after the orphanage incident, is filled with intellectual arguments. Not the actual fights like shouting, harming—but rather, a battle of minds. You considered the tragedy in the orphanage as a blessing in disguise. If that didn't happen, maybe you're still being shout at by one of your so-called 'masters'.

"First of all, you're doing that usual habit of yours which sometimes bothered me, it's almost bleeding! Second, I would like to know if I am really not clever enough just like what you told me two years ago."

Putting up the pieces, Fyodor watched your hands, swiftly gliding through the pieces. He smiled in defeat, he knows to himself that he couldn't win against your lovely invitation.

"Chess, like life, demands sacrifice."

"But not all sacrifices lead to victory...Fyodor, dear." You shrugged, moving a knight to challenge Fyodor's position.

"In literature and chess, foresight is the key," He remarked, sacrificing a bishop to open an attacking path.

"Yet, in every move, there lies a story..."

In the endgame, Fyodor, with a cunning smile moved the piece and turned his attention back to you.

"Checkmate, where every move is a sentence in the narrative of defeat."

You sighed in defeat, letting Fyodor's pride to enlarge. You never won, but you can buy some time—you're not running out of ideas to throw against him, which surprisingly, amazed Fyodor.

He caressed your cheeks with his cold pale hands. His calloused hands itches your skin but you don't mind.

"You're still not clever enough, myshka..But I think, that's enough to entertain me." Fyodor stood up and placed a kiss on your forehead while softly caressing your hair. He tried to move away after the kiss but you pulled him soon after.

"Letting yourself stress over writing kanji merely for that bandaged man and not even sparing me an hour? You've spent a total of 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds only for that letter..." You huffed and pulled out a book out of his random piles.

"Nietzsche's 'Beyond Good and Evil'...Hm, interesting choice you have there...Please do enlighten me about this book, Mister Dostoevsky." Fyodor's sharp and alluring gaze pierced your soul in somehow—a good way.

"Take my hand then, my love. I truly grieved for that 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds I spent not to you."

"But to my next 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds, I shall please my queen with these hands which I used to writing kanji and maybe, explore each and every part of her."

and yeahh, it took me a month to finish this one. damn school works :< but dw, it's hereee. i'm actually planning to post scaramouche x reader huhu

[damagedintellect]

Fyodor x reader x Nikolai [Rich kids AU]

💌 Days of our Bungo : Part 1 💌  

Summary: All of your fathers made a pack that whenever they had kids they would marry each other. It sounded like a good idea at the time but when the Sigma family was the only family to have a girl, and everyone wanted a bloodborne heir, things seemed a little complicated. After many arguments it was decided they would wait to see which boy, she, would fall for. Everyone always ends up having a crush on their childhood friend right?

Notes: Guess who had another Bungo dream, it was me! This time around the dream sequence started in the middle and just kept going so ima just fill in the gaps and start from the top.

Tropes: Sigma is your twin, Fyodor x reader x Nikolai, Fyodor is endgame, royalty/rich kids, Childhood friends, Mutual pinning but reader thinks it's one-sided, Nikolai knows its unrequited but he still loves you & Fyodor, eventual 🍋

💌 Word count: 4,821 💌  You Are Here | Part 2

At the age of five you and your brother were inseparable. You were twins after all, it would have been weird if you weren't close to some degree. Sigma kept his hair long to match you even though your hair colors were mirrored. Naturally your parents gave you matching outfits although with some alterations between skirts and dresses. Sometimes you and Sigma would try to swap outfits to see if they could tell the difference but your hair colors always gave you away. That's the first memory you could vividly remember, your father trying to guess who was who.

It was placed in your memory box right before your first big fight with each other. Sigma stole one of your dresses claiming he looked better in it. You were furious for weeks. That's when your father knew it was the right time to call his colleagues. It was time for the two of you to make new friends. Your parents were always worried about your development since there were minor complications during your infant years. Being around other children your age would help round out your fighting and potentially help mend the sibling quarrel.

You were playing in the garden when the maids called you into the foyer. Your father had arranged for you to meet someone. Well more than just someone, your father had many friends but only two of them had children your age. Apparently you've met them before but you don't remember them at all. You and Sigma had extremely finicky memories for your age. Which is why today was so important for the both of you in that regard.

These friends of papa were special, they were his super best friends and hopefully today you would also make a super best friend too. Sigma would always be your best friend but he was your brother first and foremost. That was like cheating and papa didn't raise a cheater. As you straightened out your dress you hoped to make a good impression on the two boys in front of you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky and Nikolai Gogol stood before you as you curtsied. The two couldn't be any more different than you imagined. One was quiet and stoic while the other was loud and energetic. They seemed like a packaged deal just like you and Sigma. They had been friends for over a year now, bonding over music lessons and the fact that their manors were close to each other. As your fathers’ talked business, you were sent off to play and get to know the boys. Their fathers’ looked excited over your very meeting but you weren’t sure why and you wouldn't figure it out until years down the line.

After introductions you all decided to choose an activity and start getting to know each other. Fyodor decided on chess. It wasn’t like you hadn’t played before but you had only ever played against Sigma before. Nikolai snickered and whispered that you should have Sigma go first. You offered the other boy a quizzical look and stepped aside as he winked at you. Sitting next to Nikolai you watched as Sigma tried to best Fyodor. Nikolai was commentating the game, making Sigma loose focus not that it would have helped much. Neither you nor Nikolai wanted to play after watching Sigma get destroyed like that. Fyodor didn’t even bat an eye almost like he could predict what piece Sigma was going to move next. It was incredible.

Nikolai had seen the piano when he walked in and motioned for everyone to gather around. He played the beginnings of a song you were unfamiliar with. He was still working on getting all the notes right, his timing might need some work but it wasn’t bad for how many lessons he's had. He still managed to play something without sheet music no less. Apparently Fyodor played the cello and that's how they met at the academy. Sigma was going to start violin soon but you wanted to learn ballet. Ever since you saw the Nutcracker during Christmas it was all you could think about. Nikolai just enrolled in ballet recently because his family needed something for him to exhaust all his uncontrollable energy. It was kind of a relief that you wouldn't be alone despite only just getting to know the lad. At least Nikolai was easy to converse with. Fyodor was kind but a little intimidating.

When it got to your turn you dragged everyone out to the garden. Something you have always wanted to do with other kids your age was to play hide and seek. Normally some of the maids and butlers would indulge you every once in a while but there were only so many places they could hide. This would be fun. You decided to be “it”, choosing to make the gazebo your counting spot. You heard the pitter patter of feet run from you as you counted down. Although when you finally reached zero you immediately found Fyodor standing behind the bush at the base of the stairs. For someone who was exceedingly good with strategy games it was odd he was the first one out.

“Found you!” 

You laughed and grabbed his hand pulling him along to find the others. He didn’t protest but he did look slightly uncomfortable being dragged along. It didn't take you long to find Sigma, he likes to hide in the same spot every time. It’s why you were ecstatic to finally play with other children. Now all you had to do was find Nikolai. Which took longer than you would like to admit. The entire time you were walking around looking for him you realized you never once tried to let Fyodor's hand go. Fyodor gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he pointed up in the tree near the fountain.

Sure enough Nikolai waved from his spot as he stood up striking a victory pose. He nearly fell down while he was making his descent, accidentally kicking off one of his shoes in the process. Luckily it barely missed the edge of the fountain. With Nikolai being the winner he was now the seeker. As soon as he started counting you made a break for it but stopped when you saw Fyodor just standing there. It seemed like Fyodor didn't quite get the point of hide and seek. That or he couldn't think of a good place to hide which was fair. This was the first time he's ever been to your estate, knowing where was an appropriate place for him to seek refuge was probably more or less his dilemma. Some might find it rude to rummage through areas of someone else's manor unattended. You ran back to him and once again dragged him away. If that was the case then you would help him out.

You saw some of the maids making preparations for afternoon tea and in a spark of genius you crawled under the thick tablecloth hoping no one would think to look there. You and Fyodor sat for a long time. Definitely longer than it took for you to find Nikolai. With the excitement of the day you had gotten pretty tired from running around. You ended up slumping on Fyodor's shoulder being comfortable enough to fall asleep in the other’s presence. While Fyodor contemplated what to do in this situation he overheard some of your waitstaff talking about you both.

“Have you seen the way young master Nikolai looks at our young lady?”

“I wish someone would stare at me like that. Although did you notice the young lady holding young master Fyodor's hand? She must have taken a liking to him.”

“That's adorable. I wonder if she will be betrothed to young master Fyodor instead?”

“I heard that they plan on waiting until she's eighteen to decide who she'll be promised too. They're all still so young, nowadays it's customary to wait to make the announcement.”

Fyodor looked back at your sleeping face. You were going to marry him someday? That surely puts things into perspective. He rolled his eyes. At least now he understood why his father made such a fuss about being a gentleman before he left the manor. As if he'd conduct himself in any other fashion was laughable but given his only acquaintance is Nikolai, Fyodor can see his father’s reserve. He doesn't like the idea of his future marriage being arranged especially since he'd just met you but it was reassuring that in the end it seemed like you'd have a say about who you'd end up with. Fyodor didn’t understand why it was so important to his father but maybe he'd understand with time. Speaking of time Nikolai abruptly pulled the tablecloth off the table to reveal the two of you crouched underneath. He frowned. While Fyodor was originally indifferent about the game he couldn't help his disappointment upon being caught.

You were startled awake by the noise of tea cups clattering in place. All the maids had a heart attack for a moment before they saw the white haired boy perfectly displace the cloth from underneath the dishes. You clutched your head where it made contact with the underside of the table. Fyodor let out a soft laugh at your misfortune causing you to stare at him in awe as Sigma helped you stand. The genuine spark in his eyes left you blushing as Nikolai was boasting about his table trick. You all sat down for tea as your father's plan to become friends worked like a charm.

___

After that you all would get together at least once a week to play around before you started attending the academy. Sigma was taking violin lessons while you and Nikolai started taking ballet. You thought he was crazy for doing both piano lessons and dance at the same time but Fyodor had commented that if anyone could pull it off it would be Nikolai. The boy seemed to be able to teleport around the academy as is. Not to mention the fact that Nikolai seemed to know everyone. While Nikolai was a social butterfly his best friend was the exact opposite. Fyodor was, annoyingly, always practicing even outside of lessons. Nikolai seemed to be the only one capable of dragging him out of the practice rooms to meet up with the rest of you. Sometimes he would even fight you all and practice during lunch. It was sad because you very much enjoyed the Russian's company but you understand his preference for solitude.

Aside from that, ballet wasn’t exactly everything you'd hoped it would be. You wanted to learn how to dance on your toes like Clara did in the Nutcracker but apparently girls don't go on pointe until the age of seven. Although recently there had been talk that the school was in the process of changing the age due to safety concerns. Nikolai had thrown a fit that men should be allowed to go on pointe too but it wouldn’t matter because neither of you were technically prepared enough for pointe work anyways. That's all you would end up hearing day after day, technique. It was boring learning proper placement, posture and turnout. You wanted to skip steps and just dance but apparently it was extremely important to your training to practice at the barre. Which was lame, you liked centerwork way more than being at the barre.

Even after a few years you still liked working in the center better than being stuck at the barre. Although now the years of technique classes had really paid off. This past year had been more focused on prepointe and pas de deux compared to past years. You had partnered with Nikolai whenever you needed to partner up for anything. Nikolai would make a scene if he wasn't your partner to go across the floor or for stretching so you weren’t that surprised when he became your official pas de deux partner. The teachers must have been observing the two of you since you enrolled in the academy. When you were finally put on pointe Nikolai was extremely jealous until you let him put your shoes on. Something you technically weren't supposed to do. He nearly fell over going on relevé at the barre, claiming that they were actually torture devices. He was no longer envious of you for being on pointe. 

A few more years had passed and you started noticing that you and Nikolai were the artistic director’s favorites. They must have seen something in you both. For the end of year showcase you would be performing the pas de deux from Cinderella. Which was going to be their summer production that you could audition for. How convenient that this had the potential to be your audition for the role. You both were ecstatic. Nikolai was obviously a shoe in for the prince but you had a lot of competition for Cinderella. It didn’t bother you much, you were just here to dance and do your best. Although you heard a lot of gossip in passing. Things like, “(Y/N) is only good because she gets to partner with Nikolai.”

“They’re only looking at (Y/N) because she dances with Nikolai, I dance better.”

“Her pointe work is so sloppy I bet you her father pays the school to get better parts.”

Nikolai has told you to tune them out but the feeling was hard to shake. Nikolai was a freaking prodigy at everything he did. So was Fyodor. Even Sigma to some degree but at least you get to see the behind the scenes of his genius. He works insanely hard to keep up with your friends. His anxiety sometimes rubs off on you too. 

At the moment your class was let out early so you were bothering Sigma and Fyodor in one of the practice rooms. For their showcase they were both given Ravel’s "Pavane for a dead princess". Which was an interesting choice given that it was originally written to be a piano solo. It can be done as a duet with a piano and violin or cello but it was weird that they had been practicing it as a violin and cello piece. Both of them agreed it sounded better with the piano so Nikolai was playing the piano as they were taking turns practicing their parts. Again it baffled you that Nikolai knows this piece by heart. When the lad had time to practice this was beyond you. Sigma had been practicing this at home most nights but this was the first time you’ve heard it with the cello accompaniment. 

You couldn’t help yourself; it seemed like your body was moving on its own. You were so entranced by Fyodor’s playing that you got up and danced. To you it was such a beautiful piece. Most people called it melancholic but it was beautiful. You weren’t paying attention and Nikolai was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed but Fyodor slipped up slightly. Nikolai glanced at his friend to see what happened when he noticed that the Russian's hands were on autopilot. Fyodor was watching you dance. Nikolai’s hands stopped as well, completely encapsulated by your movement. This had to be what true freedom looked like.

You didn't even realize when they had finished playing. You were too busy living in your own little world. Fyodor smiled as you continued to glide around the room. You made it look effortless. Both of them were breathless. You only stopped when Sigma cleared his throat.

“So is it my turn now?”

___

Sure enough when the auditions rolled around for Cinderella you and Nikolai were casted at the leads. It would be your first time dancing a principal role. The only problem was the animosity of your peers. It constantly felt as though someone was out to get you. It was a feeling that kept you looking over your shoulder with caution. There were more whispers lately and it only continued your bad feeling. Of course you had an understudy in the event you couldn't dance the part and you noticed how she would glare daggers at you while ogling Nikolai.

You had just finished rehearsal and were waiting for Nikolai to finish changing out when foreign arms grabbed you from behind and your world went dark.

Your limbs were heavy and everything was starting to slow down. The commotion at the door of the cheap motel didn’t even reach your ears. Everything was muffled compared to the steadiness of your breathing. That was until Fyodor and Nikolai burst through the door. What they were doing here was beyond you. Why not the police? This had you confused but if anyone could track and take down some random ransom kidnapper it would be them. 

Ever since Fyodor took his first computer engineering and programming courses you had expected that he took to being quite the hacker but you never called him out on it. Aided with Nikolai’s weird obsession with carnival tricks like throwing knives, hatchets and the occasional lock picking, this seemed like a normal day. Maybe it was whatever the guy slipped you that made this seem like normal behavior. For all you knew, your brain could be trying to piece together logical connections for things that weren’t really happening just to preserve whatever mental stability you had left. In other words this could all be a dream that you wished was happening.

Fyodor knelt down in front of you as piercing violet eyes assessed your condition. You could get lost in his eyes, that is if he would let you. His lips were moving much too fast for you to keep up. None of the sound registered to you. It sounded like you were under water. Which is a shame because you really like the way Fyodor's voice sounded. You've also never seen him this expressive before. When he realized you were not listening he took off his uniform blazer and draped it around your nearly naked shoulders. The kidnapper had stripped you of your clothes leaving you in your underwear. You hadn’t even noticed that let alone that the two had taken off your restraints. Prior to them breaking in you can’t remember a thing, which was probably for the best. Nikolai was searching for your discarded clothes as Fyodor started explaining to you again, but slower in hopes he could snap you out of it. 

“Sigma is outside dealing with our private police force. Nikolai’s father only let us come with them under the pretense we would not, personally, get involved but Nikolai threatened the chief to let us handle this.” 

Nikolai came back with your skirt but when you just stared down at the article of clothing they both gave each other a look and helped you redress. It was only when they tried to remove Fyodor’s coat did you finally snap out of your stupor and throw yourself into Fyodor's arms. Your breath was ragged and you were shaking. It seemed like your body was just now catching up to speed. The grip you had on his shirt only tightened as he wrapped his arms around you. The feeling in your limbs were weird, it took so much effort to move them freely and when you did, they felt like they were moving on their own accord. Right now you were safe and that’s all that mattered. Fyodor always made you feel safe.

“T-t…” 

The words couldn’t leave your mouth but then again you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even realize you had started silently crying until Fyodor pulled away to wipe away your tears. By that time Sigma ran up to you making you fall back on the bed. 

“I WAS WORRIED SICK! If Fyodor didn’t hack into “Eyes of God”, who knows what would have happened!” 

Sigma was crying more than you were. You tried to smile but your face was too heavy to turn up the corners of your lips. “Do you know how hard it was to prevent Nikolai from killing anyone? The moment we found out you were taken, those two were completely different people!” Sigma shook you for emphasis “It was terrifying!”

You wanted to answer him so badly but your mouth only opened without making a sound. It only took a beat for Fyodor to express that you’ve probably been sedated. Once Sigma got your shirt and Fyodor’s jacket back on your person, Nikolai carried you out and held you while you were in the car. Being your pas de deux partner for a few years now meant he could carry your weight near effortlessly. You leaned your head into his chest. Your eyelids were feeling extra heavy as they slid shut. You didn't notice his grip on you tightening, pulling you closer to his chest. If you were paying more attention you might have even caught the light kiss he pressed to your forehead.

___

You never got the full story but you could assume that Fyodor was able to trace the kidnapper back to your understudy because she was never seen at the academy again. Despite this scare you didn't stop dancing per se but you tried other forms of performance. Singing and acting have always interested you. So when you entered the high-school division you decided to give the acting thing a try. Nikolai always followed you around like an eccentric puppy and it didn’t surprise you in the slightest when once again you both were casted as the leads for another show. What could you say being friends for years meant that the two of you had excellent chemistry together. Although this time there was one glaring oversight on your part.

Whenever you had any issues you couldn't sort out yourself you always sought out Fyodor for advice. You had inconspicuously invited the russian over for one of your “sleepovers” You used to have them all the time when you were children. The only thing that was remotely off was the lack of Nikolai’s presence. As the boys were about to retire for the night you finally mustered up the courage to speak.

“Actually um,” You reached for his sleeve “Do you think you could sleep in my room tonight?” 

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. Both Sigma and Fyodor raised an eyebrow at you. When you were kids he slept in your room all the time and none of your parents ever said anything about it. Sigma shrugged, he trusts that Fyodor wouldn’t do anything. He would have said something if it was Nikolai since he’s constantly physically affectionate as a person but if anything Fyodor has stricter physical boundaries compared to you. He'll allow it, not that he was going to try and stop you. 

You couldn’t believe you were doing this but it was necessary and who could blame you. If you didn’t Nikolai would tease you relentlessly in front of the rest of the cast and you wanted to avoid that as much as possible. You were already freaking out that you had to kiss Nikolai of all people. He’s always felt like a brother to you and ever since that incident during Cinderella you were traumatized at the potential for that to happen again. Sure you were older now but that thought would always be in the back of your mind. You were aware of his ever growing fanclub and while after that incident they stopped bullying you completely you never know.

The moment you got to your room you motioned for him to sit on your bed. You were fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves. Like always Fyodor seemed to read you like a book, sighing softly while giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Are you really that worried about kissing Nikolai that you need to practice?” His expression didn’t waver although it sounded as if he was amused at the notion.

You groaned, hiding your face as you threw yourself on your pile of pillows. “Let it be known I hate when you do that!” You curled up into a ball peeking at the russian while hugging your safety pillow. You really didn't and Fyodor knows that, otherwise he would have stopped predicting your words a long time ago but it didn't make it any less embarrassing. He knows you a little too well.

“Yes, I’m worried about kissing Nikolai! I have to practically make out with him and I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Kicking your feet in frustration you sat up in a huff. “I don’t want my first kiss to be because I have to. I always thought my first kiss would be a special private moment. Something romantic you know? And now everyone’s going to watch me make out with Nikolai! I didn’t think I’d actually be Juliet. I thought I’d have more time before I'd, you know.” 

Your face was hot and your heart was racing. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Fyodor; he probably thought you were being ridiculous. Auditioning knowing that this was a possibility. It was your first time auditioning for a show that didn't have any proper dancing in it. You had just wanted the acting experience. You didn’t ask for this. Truly it was Nikolai’s fault for being too good at playing lovesick puppy with you.

“There is no problem with wanting something to be special, (Y/N).” Fyodor put his hand on your cheek and guided your eyes to meet his. “If it puts you more at ease, I would be giving you my first kiss as well.”

Your breath hitched at the contact. He'd be giving his first kiss to you. You didn't actually think about that, although you should have known that was the case. He’s never had an interest in such things but he was willing for your sake.

He was sitting so close to you. When did he move from the otherside of the bed? Your head was spinning and nothing even happened yet. Neither of you initiated the kiss and his expression grew uncertain. This was awkward but you’d be figuring it out together at least. To be honest you didn't think he would entertain such an idea. You assumed he would talk you through being less anxious about it or perhaps give you a kiss on the cheek since he’s never been fond of physical contact if he could help it. That goes to show you Fyodor was a good friend, putting his comfort aside for your sake.

You closed your eyes mustering up enough courage to lean forward, gently touching his lips to yours. A flutter ran through your stomach as every thought in your head melted away. It was only one kiss but this already left you breathless and you were expected to do this on stage with everyone watching you? You became lightheaded. 

Fyodor pulled away first, resting his forehead on your shoulder. This is the most he's ever invaded your personal space. Even with your shoulders being covered his forehead felt warm to the touch which contrasted how cold he normally was. You moved to touch your lips with your hands. They still felt tingly; it almost didn't seem real.

Fyodor let out a shaky breath as he recited one of Nikolai’s lines. It almost didn't occur to you what he was doing until he sat upright with his eyes trained on your lips. He was caressing you just like Nikolai would in rehearsal. You should be surprised he knew exactly how Nikolai performed the scene but you were too busy trying to remember if you said the right line. 

Fyodor crashed your lips together. Again you were caught by surprise that he was taking this so seriously. You hummed as you melted into the kiss. Moving your lips against Fyodor's was making you dizzy. You couldn't help sighing softly under your breath. You were too enthralled with your personal bliss you didn't realize when Fyodor moved you to lay on your back. You were currently lying down with Fyodor looming over your smaller figure. Your hands gripped the front of your dress as your heart hammered away in your chest. You felt Fyodor pulling back again. His expression was unreadable but his face was flush. You were both panting looking at each other through half lidded eyes. You had the urge to pull him in for more. You really wanted to be greedy. Thoughts that you know were inappropriate were invading your mind and it took all of your willpower to avoid doing something you would regret.

“Will that suffice?” 

Fyodor spoke as smooth and unwavering as ever, sounding unbothered like he wasn't also out of breath. You on the other hand could barely form words. “I-I believe so.” You were embarrassed and wanted nothing more than to continue where you left off but it was a self-indulgent thought. 

Fyodor curtly got up to turn the lights off and situated his side of the bed. As he turned away from you he said his goodnight. You were left mildly hot and indefinitely bothered beyond compare. How could he just kiss you with all the passion in the world and then go to sleep? Maybe Fyodor should have been the actor out of your group. You've never seen his eyes so vibrant before. You laid there lost in thought replaying that last kiss in your head. Fyodor was always there for you but you hate that no matter how close the two of you are you will never be more than friends. Over the years he's never had any interest in romance and If his actions after the kiss were any indication, he couldn't even look at you. Turning away from him you tried to ease the rejection but your head was still reeling from the kiss. You would never forget what love should feel like, even if Fyodor would not return the feeling.

Fyodor was eerily still, listening for your breathing to even out. He doesn't know what came over him, the moment his lips touched yours a fire was lit throughout his body. He prided himself with his immaculate self control and his body threw it all down the drain. If he didn't stop when he did he would have just embarrassed himself in front of you. He felt the blood rush down his abdomen. That's why he was adamant about turning the lights off as fast as possible. Fyodor tried to will it away but the memory of how you looked up at him blissfully dazed was driving him mad. He agreed to help for purely selfish reasons and he almost feels bad about manipulating you for that second array of kisses, but it was worth it to best Nikolai. You chose Fyodor to be your first kiss and he had nothing to do with it. There was no bread crumbing, no manipulation tactics he had to employ, it was simply your love for him that drove your decision to give him your first kiss.

He's watched you and Nikolai only grow closer as the years passed and Fyodor feels like he's been left behind. Even though you've expressed that your feelings for Nikolai is that of brotherly love, he can't help but feel it's something more when he sees the two of you together. It would truly pain him to lose your affection to Nikolai but in the end if that's what you desired he's prepared to step aside for your happiness. At least that's what he tells himself, it's far too easy for him to be selfish for what he wants. In fact he's known of your love for him for years now but he doesn't press the matter because such infatuation would only distract from your studies and the last thing he needs is to have both of your father’s disapproval.

The next day you tried your best to mask your weary expression as Nikolai leaned in to kiss you. You were expecting to be met with the same overwhelming warmth that you had with Fyodor the night prior but your mind was clear of the fog. As you pulled away you waited for Nikolai’s next line but it never came. You gave him a quizzical look but he was still staring at you in awe. He gave it a beat before he broke character.

“Ah, sorry that was my first kiss.” He covered his face and turned away from you.

Your director was laughing as the rest of your cast exploded in conversation. Had it been anyone else surely they would have gotten scolded for derailing the rehearsal but Nikolai was always the utmost professional performer; this was the first time you think he’s ever slipped up and broke character for any reason. His face was a light shade of pink as he avoided your gaze. It was cute to think he might have been in the same boat as you were last night. You wonder if he also tried to practice the kiss in some way. The thought of him practicing on a stuffed animal or even his own hand made you giggle to yourself.

You were so enthralled with the image you created in your head that you didn’t see the soft longing expression on Nikolai’s features as he turned back to meet your gaze. He wondered if he was your first kiss as well but given that your reaction was rather temperate Nikolai fears he might have been too late.

His smile was bittersweet as he thought to himself. “Fyodor, you sly rat.”

___

Part 2, Part 3

[maislovebot]

GOOD MORNINGGGG

how do you think the rest of the DOA members would be like vampies? :3

- 🌀

GOOD MORNING!! Sorry that this is so late, my professor assigned some super hard assignments smh🙏 I honestly find it very interesting to think about the bsd characters in some vampire au so ty for this ask:3

I don’t normally write for Fukuchi but because this is just a small blurb I figured why not! Bram is also different from the others, as his doesn’t take place in an au and instead takes place in canon. Everyone else’s takes place in an au where their vampirism has a completely different set of rules from Bram’s!! You won’t become mindless if they bite you ty

I feel like Fukuchi has the most control out of any of them? He doesn’t really bite you often because he feels like it’s immoral. He’s already committing enough immoral crimes that completely go against everything him and his image stand for. He’s a war hero after all, why would he want to hurt more people than he already has to, especially when hurting you isn’t even going to save anyone. The only real exception would be if he was quite literally starving, and if you’re in poor health? Forget it. He’s never biting you. He would never bite you recreationally, it would only be if he was hiding from another organization and hadn’t eaten in multiple days.

If he were to bite you though, it wouldn’t be very different. He is a man with a lot of willpower and control. He’s able to control himself better than anyone else on this list, in all honesty. He’ll drink the amount he needs to be sustained, then he’s finished. No more no less.

He would enjoy eating nice meals, like perfectly cooked steak, or other things similar. He wouldn’t be very fond of roadkill, because he has the funds to eat at 5 star restaurants pretty much every day. Why eat things he sees on the side of the road?

Bram is similar in the sense that he has self control. He’s aware of the fact that if he were to bite you, you’d be subjected to becoming nothing more than a mindless, blood sucking creature. That isn’t what he wants from you. He wants to be with you for the rest of his days, even if he knows it isn’t realistic because you’re merely human. He’ll try to simply come to terms with the fact he won’t have you for very long, but it’ll only take him maybe 4 months after he’s gotten his body back for him to go on the hunt for something that can make him human, or safely turn you into a vampire. He’s aware of the page because of Fukuchi, and it’s his number one goal to get a hold of it now. He’d prefer to get it by teaming up with whoever is in possession of it, but if that doesn’t work out, he isn’t afraid to take a more villainous approach. Anything to keep you.

In terms of biting you, he never has because he knows what will happen. But oh god has he fantasized about it. It’s all he thinks about. You’d look so pretty with his fangs in your neck.

He didn’t really eat much before he got his body, only being fed whenever Fukuchi had someone he wanted turned, but that didn’t happen much until the vampirism outbreak. Now that he’s gotten his body back, he doesn’t bite people as one, he would feel unfaithful to you, even if nothing became of it and it was purely for feeding. He also wants to make a conscious effort to be good for Aya’s sake. He eats food you make for him. He doesn’t really like going out in public often, so he allows you to cook for him. You’ve made plenty of meals with blood in them, like animals, but you’ve also introduced him to other types of food, and even if they serve him no nutritional value, he finds them delicious.

Fyodor would love to bite you. If you’re just another pawn on his comically large chess board, then he’ll drink your blood with no real intent of giving you anything in return. Sure, he’ll toss you a rag, but you have to clean yourself off! He’s so horrible. If he cares about you, however, he is strangely tender. He has a sense of self control, but sometimes he gets so desperate for your blood he can’t help himself! He’ll hold you down and nibble into your shoulder. He likes biting your shoulder a strange amount. He can’t explain it, it’s just a nice, convenient spot to bite. This is why he loves it when you wear tops with thin or no straps. Makes for east access! Also let’s not forget that this man is anemic. He’d like to bite you to help get his iron levels up, so at least him constantly asking for you to let him bite you has some practical use? If you say no to him biting you, he’ll respect it. He cares about you, he wouldn’t do anything against your will. You’re the light of his life, after all. You’re perfection, therefore, what you say goes.

Whenever Fyodor does bite you, he’s quite literally on top of you, straddling you. He likes the power it gives him, even if in your opinion, he looks rather pathetic biting you while literally straddling you and trembling from how good you taste. He also likes to bite you from the back sometimes. He’ll walk up behind you, hugging you and swaying from side to side before grazing his fangs over your shoulder, awaiting your permission. He is capable of pacing himself, but if he begins ti notice you're getting dizzy more frequently, or you're getting woozy while he's biting you, he'll stop and clean up your bite, wordlessly cleaning you up and cuddling you.

He also likes to eat fine dining. Nothing can quite compare to the taste of your blood, but there are some fair substitutes. He will drink your blood whenever the opportunity presents itself, but he'll also take the two of you out to a nice restaurant and let you order whatevee you please, while he'll order something simple and bloody.

Nikolai is certainly the most strange when it comes to his behaviors. When he bites you he’ll take the blood left over and wipe it on your cheek or something weird like that😭 he also likes biting you in weird places because he finds it funny?? Like he’ll nibble on your fingertips and shit just for funzies?? Similarly to Fyodor, he would bite you whenever given permission. He doesn’t try to limit himself, if you give him permission, why stop? He’d treat you like fine dining. You’re sweet and yummy and Nikolai can’t get enough of it! If you were to tell him no, say that you don’t want him to bite you, he’d roll his eyes playfully but agree. He obviously wouldn’t want you to leave him because he bit you without asking! Then he wouldn’t be able to drink your yummy blood anymore. He also does care about what you have to say, even if he doesn’t admit it because he feels like it makes him seem less free.

As I said earlier, he likes biting weird obscure places, like your fingertips. He’ll lean down like a gentleman and kiss the top of your hand, slowly trailing down and kissing your knuckles, then your fingertips, before finally nibbling your finger tips. As he kisses you he places him hands on your stomach to press you down onto the nearest couch or bed, so you’ll be sitting up comfortably while he leans ahead of you. He also likes biting places like your collarbones, arms, etc. as much as he likes biting in weird obscure places, the neck is nice too. It’s simple, but affective.

He pretty much only drinks your blood..he’ll go a few days without eating (luckily vampires can last sufficiently longer without food that normal humans can), so once you’ve rebuilt your energy he can drink your blood again. Rinse and repeat that process over and over again, and you’ve got Nikolai’s eating habits. He’s also a messy eater..there will be blood pretty much dripping from wherever he bit you when he’s done so he can wipe it on your face or body.

We’ve already talked about Sigma a fair amount, but I’m down to cover the basics. He loves to bite you, in fact nothing can quite compare. He’ll bite you and once he’s done he has this appreciative look on his face. He loves that you’re willing to let him bite you, but he also feels bad. He tends to space out when he bites you, and he prefers biting you in places that have more fat so it hurts less. He’s already a thigh guy but he especially loves biting you there.. your neck is also a good spot to bite though. It’s a little more painful for you, though, so he tends to not bite you there often.

When he’s finished biting you he’ll just lick up the blood, and get a towel. If you’re too tired he’ll just set you down and take a bath with you, bandaging up wherever he bit you. If you’re not, he’ll treat you real good to make up for it. He may love biting you, but somehow, seeing how you’re attached to him at the hip, clinging onto him for the rest of the day is even more satisfying. He finds it cute.

He loves eating stuff you make for him and stuff from nice restaurants, and despite the fact nothing can quite compare to you, he knows he can’t realistically drink your blood every day. You’d get sick, and not to mention it would cause a lot of swelling and bruising. He’d rather space it out.

I was tempted to make this sufficiently more nsfw, but I decided to refrain from anything sexual outside of biting as I didn’t wanna deviate from the original prompt too much..

[kaurwreck]

not to be back on my shit but fyodor hasn't used the one order yet, and I still don't think he can. fukuchi programmed it to respond to fukuzawa. if fukuzawa used it too immediately, everyone beneath his authority would lose their autonomy; the agency is a guerilla force, they encircle like in go, they don't rigidly advance like in chess.

fukuzawa's skill is such that he grants his litter independence through self possession of their skills. so it's against his nature to use the one order where his unruly kittens might be caught in its influence. it's also impractical: he canonically does not have a devious nature + he is their pillar so that they can wreak havoc. commanding them is liable to kill them.

but! ranpo says in chapter 92 that all they need to win is to stop fukuchi from receiving the one order.

this was a thousand years ago, and so much has happened, but ranpo doesn't condition their solution path. if they can just stop the enemy from receiving the one order, they win, hard stop. in game theory, a dominant strategy is a strategy that is better than any other strategy for one player, no matter how that player's opponent will play.

I mentioned that the agency plays go above. go is super technical, but essentially: the goal is to control more of the board than your opponent by surrounding vacant spaces with your stones. Connecting stones keeps them secure, so an important offensive tactic is to prevent the opponent from connecting their stones while at the same time keeping one's own stones connected. 

Fukuzawa secured the One Order, and thus the military. Bram had to "die" or otherwise be cut from his kin; he can't control the vampires if someone else has the seal/holy sword. He died, his kin were released, removing the vampires from Fyodor's disposal. Akutagawa and Bram seem to be tossing control over Akutagawa's body back and forth, based on their dialogue and Akutagawa's clear eyes when Bram "died." This is relevant because Bram can't be killed by ordinary means, and Akutagawa has an immensely powerful offensive skill. The armor, sword, and shield ensure that Bram has a weapon in hand when Akutagawa relinquishes his will and thus Rashomon, and Akutagawa, who is weaker and does best at mid range, isn't immediately cut down at such close range. Fyodor is wholly ignorant of any of this.

(In other words, it was Akutagawa who cut Fukuchi's hand before he could behead Atsushi since Rashomon struck.)

Since Bram released his kin, Mori likely just had the entire Port Mafia returned to him.

Aya's dad was at the airport, but we haven't seen him; she was there to bring him an item he'd forgotten. He's a cop with some form of leadership position based on Aya's mental image of him, so he is likely somewhere on the board coordinating relief.

Francis is watching, and he and Louisa are connected with a group that Francis seemed to deploy in his most recent scene. They have helicopters on scene, so they're monitoring the airspace.

Chuuya and Dazai are in France. They are in Europe. Ranpo called Europe the center of skill warfare and that if the UK, Germany, and France were to mobilize, they could reign in the global vampirism outbreak within six months. Chuuya and Dazai are the most equipped to coordinate Europe, even with only the two of them. Skills can't touch Dazai, and Dazai can nullify the ones aimed at Japan, and Chuuya can become a nuclear bomb black hole. (Also, Adam!) In other words, they can petition Europe to mobilize rather than incinerate the shit out Yokohama, and although they're alone, they're nearly unkillable. If they can wake up Sigma, then Sigma would be an invaluable resource for negotiating with the Europeans. He can give them information while receiving the same from them, a mutual enough exchange to maintain their shared interests, but none of the information he has to give would compromise the Port Mafia or Agency since he's an outsider.

Fukuzawa ordered Atsushi to run. It was an order Atsushi understood, I'm not sure if we're privy to the details. Not from the airport— the other Agency members were a weaker group, but Atsushi can't be lost because he's nigh unkillable and can likely kill Fyodor. Kunikida signaled Atsushi with two flares. His arms were raised; instead of protecting himself, he called Atsushi. He might have also called Bram (and thus Akutagawa) since Bram and Ranpo spoke prior to Fyodor bursting on scene. In other words, they sacrificed a plum to save the peach tree — Kunikida and Junichiro were taken, but they connected Akutagawa, Atsushi, and Bram. Fyodor tried to leave, but Fukuzawa was there, prepared to block his path. This is appropriate: Fyodor is physically weaker, so is Fukuzawa. The deuteragonists can handle god, Fukuzawa can prevent Fyodor from absconding while the other groups close in.

(Also, for whatever it's worth, anyone liquefied and currently swirling in Fukuchi's closed space is almost surely only unsettled, not dead. It's a fundamental principle in fluid mechanics that a the total mass of a fluid within a closed system remains constant, meaning that no matter how the fluid flows or changes form, the total amount of mass stays the same; it can neither be created nor destroyed, only rearranged within the system.)

anyway! all of this to say: Fyodor thought he was playing 4d chess, but it's go. now a little sun tzu, as a treat:

If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant.

Atsushi isn't passive, but he's scarcely raised a hand to defend himself or fight. He agitated Fyodor by pleading and clinging and despairing, thereby ensuring Fyodor would reject him. They are keeping Fyodor from leaving; Akutagawa did not come until others had gone, maintaining the illusion that they are the smaller, more exposed force.

It would be very funny if Poe booksnatched him; Meursault pt. 2, but without his skill, and while making him deliriously angry.

Maybe that's why Atsushi and Akutagawa were the only ones remaining in the S5 finale.

[cashexists]

Easy To Touch - A Dazai-centric oneshot

[Chuuya/Dazai - Kunikida/Dazai - Fyodor/Dazai - Sigma/Dazai]

Explicit Sexual Content / Whorezai but he’s actually depressed and this is his coping mechanism / All Smut

When it is Chuuya, it is rough and agonising.

A gloves hand in his hair forcing him to inhale the scent of his sheets while he moans, taking what he has to give. Sometimes there are binds around his wrists and ankles to keep him from struggling against him, sometimes there’s a toy- just the size of the first segment of his thumb- vibrating inside of him to tease him into a release.

Sharp teeth tug at his earlobe, strings of heavy groans slip into degradations and curses for him to be still if he knows what’s good for him.

Sometimes, Chuuya is nicer. Sometimes he lets Dazai straddle him, palms face down on his toned chest as he cries out his name. Sweat will cling to their skin, fingernails will dig into his thighs and, in the end, a finger will hook into the bandages he wears and Chuuya will claim what is rightfully his.

At least for that night.

When it is Kunikida, it is slow and savoury.

Kunikida will not move until Dazai is undressed and thoroughly prepared to take him. Then, he will press his chest against the expanse or his back and ask him a thousand questions. Whether he feels okay. Whether he needs more time. If he can start moving or does Dazai not feel like it anymore.

And Dazai always cries. Not like he does when he’s with Chuuya. But out of something softer and more…raw.

Here, too, there are words being whispered into his ear. Telling him he’s doing wonderful and that he’s gorgeous and that he is perfect no matter what. And those rough hands will hold his waist and caress his hip bones gently throughout everything because of course they will.

And Kunikida will ask him to stay; tell him that it’s getting late and that he should get a proper night’s rest before work. And Dazai will kiss him and thank him for the evening because that is the kind of man Kunikida is- ever patient. Ever the gentleman.

When it is Fyodor, everything has been turned upside down.

Suddenly, when Dazai is naked and bare against him, it doesn’t feel like it usually does. It feels like he has been stripped of everything but his soul, instead.

Fyodor is a vixen in the body of a human being. His silver tongue will coax Dazai onto his bed all the way until he is breathless with the sheer presence of him. Fyodor will straddle him, keep their eyes locked and a smirk on his face as Dazai will crumble. He will lean down, play with a lock of his hair and kiss him until he melts.

And Dazai will pull him closer every time he pulls away, hands roaming his lithe, pale body. Sex is never a game of chess with them, but rather, the rewards they reap afterwards.

When Fyodor wins, he claims Dazai with his hands on his throat and a triumphant grin. When Dazai wins, it’s Fyodor’s mouth on his cock and amethyst eyes melting into his own, praising his intellect until there are tears in his eyes. And he is not afraid to shed them because he knows that Fyodor will understand.

In the end, they are cold once more, jabbing at each other's desperacy. And Dazai will take his leave, but not before receiving a chaste kiss to his forehead.

Sigma is a way to express what he has learned.

He is eager to please, desperate to keep up despite never showing it. He will remain impassive as he thrusts into him, making sure their lips stay connected the whole time. It is to hide how nervous he gets in these moments, Dazai has learned.

He adores Sigma. He adores wrapping his legs around his waist, laid across the expensive sheets of the casino manager’s bed while he ruts into him like his life depends on it. And Sigma will sob in pleasure when all the right buttons are pushed, burying his face in the crook of Dazai’s shoulders.

And yet, he is still gentle. He still asks him if it’s too much for him. He still kisses him with every thrust and presses their foreheads together.

And there are many more but only these four that don’t blur into the mess.

Sometimes it’s both Kunikida and Chuuya that are making him writhe between them. Sometimes it’s Fyodor holding him and Sigma at the end of a leash he never wants to escape.

And sometimes, Dazai is alone.

But really, Dazai is always, truly alone.

[rervraiilstew]

Okay, but I dont think Fyodor actually intends on 'winning' (at least in a traditional sense) his chess game against Dazai.

As we already know, The Hunting Dogs and the rest of the DOA are, in fact, chess pieces on Fyodor's side of the board.

And despite this, he's been actively getting rid of his chess pieces.

Sigma's unconscious(plus, Fyodor stated that he won't ever open his eyes again), Nikolai's whereabouts are unknown(and Fyodor said that he would like to "return the favor" in response to Nikolai trying to kill him), Fukuchi is Ame No Gozen and no longer under his own control. Bram got subsumed by Fyodor and is (now, finally) dead.

And for The Hunting Dogs, Jouno was bitten by Akutagawa, and his whereabouts are unknown. Tecchou is unconscious and whereabouts unknown(probably trapped under a building w/ Kenji?), Teruko got glooped, and then Tachihara, well, yeah. He's currently out of the picture.

And then lastly, Fyodor's goal is to get rid of ability users, and he IS one. Getting rid of all ability users results in his own death, and it isnt like he's already been trying to wipe all his pieces off the chess board.

So, yes, he's trying to accomplish his goal. But doing so requires him to give up his own piece and, in a sense, "lose" to Dazai.

That is, unless, Dazai is killed before Fyodor dies.

(Or they could die at the same time by means relating to The Book) It could also be noted that one of Fyodor's current goals is to kill off the Armed Detective Agency one by one, basically trying to get rid of the pieces on Dazai's side.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Hi! Can I please request a sfw Sigma x DOA!male! Reader? The reader is like Fyodor minus the terrorism and sadism. He loves reading and chess and strategizing. He's tall and well-built, really strong but really gentle. He's taller than Sigma so he can perfectly deliver forehead kisses without the hassel. Reader doesn't get flustered easily and he uses it to his advantage. Kisses, hugs, kabedons (never thought I'd use that word), tickles etc, Sigma has fallen victim to it at the hands of reader. Basically, Reader loves flustering Sigma and Sigma will never get used to it😂

Sigma x Fyodor like male S/O head cannons

Female aligned and minors dni this is an 18+ blog

OMG I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond I have just been having a lot of work and stuff going on at the moment but I hope you enjoy it and thank you for your patience and support :]

You and sigma both met through the DOA you were known to be Fyodor’s right hand man so it came as no surprise that you and Fyodor shared similarities but what did come as a shock was how gentle you are with him.

When sigma first met you he was shocked at how much bigger you were compared to him and he was honestly into it so every time you leaned against him with your head rested on top of his he couldn’t help but turn every shad of red.

Sigma absolutely loves to cuddle with you it is one of the rare occasions that things feel alright with life but do expect to always be the big spoon and this man is like a built in heater he is always warm even in winter.

sigma doesn’t like to think of himself as easily flustered by people but you never fail to make it happen wether you are laying your head in the crevice of his neck or it’s you wrapping your much bigger arms around his waist, all of these things make Sigma so flustered and don’t get him started when you lean down to kiss him.

You and sigma love to have dates all though most of the time they are at home or are on your shared couch, you and sigma will lay around and read books together or play chess since like Fyodor you both share a thing for chess, but on the rare occasion the two of you go out sigma will take you on night time picnic dates but he always lets you choose the place whether it’s a cemetery or in the woods.

When you and sigma go on your night time picnic dates he will lay his head in your lap while you play with his hair and he reads books too you.

[soupthatistohot]

BSD: An Absurdist Analysis - Chapter 111.5

"In the budding darkness, a blossom of hope"

[BSD Absurdism Masterpost]

This is the chapter where the tides start to change for our protagonists, which is exemplified by this lovely chapter art of Dazai along with the quote: "In the budding darkness, a blossom of hope."

And really, having hope is what absurdism is often about. In order to not give up/give in to an absurd reality, one must have some sort of motivation to keep going, that motivation often being hope.

We open the chapter with finding out Aya did not, in fact, die! She had previously jumped off the building in a last-ditch attempt to remove the sword from Bram's body, and her final act of rebellion against a seemingly hopeless situation paid off.

Meanwhile, the missiles have been stopped and Ranpo and Atsushi are seemingly safe!

And then there's Dazai and Fyodor.

The fundamental difference between the two is that while they're both excellent strategists that treat life like a game of chess, Fyodor needs to have ultimate control over every situation, whereas Dazai is able to maintain his control through the power of his relationships with others. Dazai took advantage of Fyodor's weakness of needing control by allowing him to think that he had control over Chuuya as a vampire, when in reality his trust of Chuuya and their partnership succeeded.

Fyodor's need for control in an absurd reality is paradoxical, because if a reality is inherently meaningless and absurd, then one attempting to control that is a fruitless effort. Dazai's relinquishment of control and relying on basically "the power of friendship" seems like a ridiculous tactic, but... it worked because he put his faith in the people around him and left it up to chance.

(You can read more of my thoughts on Fyodor and Dazai in my initial 111.5 post from back when the chapter first got released)

As for Fukuzawa and Fukuchi, I don't have an absurdist analysis on their situation in this chapter, at least. Fukuzawa strikes Fukuchi with the sword, and realizing too late that this is exactly what he wanted him to do and sending them into Poe's novel. The conversation they'll have after this probably leans a bit more into the absurdist storytelling, but if I'm being honest, this part of the current plot is what I understand least and I'll need to actually read their conversation to make sense of it.

Please ignore that this analysis is literal months late, I'm a student with many obligations and this unfortunately fell onto the back-burner <3