#fyodor did nothing wrong

[vivysnights]

Even after chapter 118 I support my bbg Fyodor and his rights and wrongs. FYODOR NATION ARISE!!!!!

[gegengestalt]

"You can't be feminist about a female character and then insist she did no wrong" Yeah... But the thing is that she did no wrong. Sure, she's a troll and did some emotional manipulation, but she was right. Sure, she planned or suggested some shady stuff, but she didn't do it in the end. A girl can't joke and flirt in peace without getting cancelled in that town.

[deuces-ninth-live]

Me after I abandoned the Käärijä fandom and blacklisted the tags and moved to the BSD, joker out and Loreen fandom: ^_^

[kikizoshi]

It's amazing how much of my progress with understanding and working with Nikolai as a character is predicated on his backstory. His backstory, which is exclusive to me, because I'm the one who made it. But every time I'm working on any questions to do with his philosophies or motivations, I have to delve into his past. It's so essential. No wonder I couldn't get anywhere with canon Nikolai--there literally just isn't enough there. Not enough for someone like me, anyway. I'm sure it's possible.

[rae-pss]

masterlist

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . i was merely bored during class, so here you all have a silly romantic drabble with characters I believe match it.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . 178 words, fluff, lowercase intended.

delicacy. that was the word that best defined how he looked at you, touched you, loved you. he did everything with caution and subtlety, with an irrational fear of harming you with the slightest of a wrong move on his part. 

his words, few or abundant, made evident the love that he alone possessed for you. almost as if an adoration of your name was given by every sentence that came from his lips. 

his actions, slow and gentle or quick and fleeting, left a warm feeling, a desire for more loving touches between the two of you. 

his love for you... infinite like numbers, like time, like the universe itself. the passion he felt was deep like no other. a clear devotion to your person that could only make you blush like nothing else could ever do. 

he could be one of the most dangerous, most unpredictable beings and whatever one may say; but, for you, he was a mere lover lost in your undeniable beauty, one he was so determined to worship that he couldn't be deterred. 

alucard (hellsing), lucifer, diavolo, barbatos, solomon (obey me), ares (hades), hades, poseidon, beelzebub (snv/ror), alt gabriel (mandela catalogue), malleus (twst), chrollo (hxh), childe, (genshin impact), akaza (kny), fyodor, dazai, mori, jouno (bsd), risotto (jbba), satoru, sukuna (jjk)

[heliosunny]

Fyodor with a reader that he grows to be a fond of and that turns a little bit into an obsession 👀👀

HOW ABOUT... A LIFETIME SIDEKICK

You had been by Fyodor's side from the very beginning. In his opinion, you were borderline suicidal. There wasn’t a mission he assigned that you didn’t face head-on, no matter how dangerous or reckless it was. Loyal, graceful, and unwavering, you embodied everything he could ask for in a partner.

“Sacrifice yourself for me.” Fyodor’s voice was calm, devoid of emotion.

Without a second thought, you leapt from the 20th floor of the building, clutching the critical document he needed. The wind whipped past you as you plummeted, your only concern ensuring the document remained safe.

It wasn’t for him, not really. You didn’t care about Fyodor as a person. The only reason you stayed by his side was your unwavering desire to see his goals achieved. He had saved your life once, pulling you back from the brink when no one else had cared enough to try. That act had shackled you to him, binding your existence to his whims.

You owed him your life. And for that reason, you would endure anything, no matter how harrowing.

Despite the countless brushes with death, it was nothing short of a miracle that you always survived. Maybe it was luck. Or maybe, deep down, Fyodor’s plans never truly involved losing you.

As your body hurtled toward the ground, you felt the inevitability of death closing in. Yet, at the last moment, a strange sensation enveloped you—a sudden suspension, as if time itself had bent to spare you.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on the ground, unharmed. A soft, golden glow surrounded you, quickly fading. Standing nearby was Nikolai Gogol, one of Fyodor's closest allies. He twirled his cane, his usual mischievous grin in place.

“Well, that was a close one” Nikolai mused, his tone laced with mockery. “You almost painted the street red. What would our dear Fyodor do without his precious sidekick?”

You sat up, clutching the document tightly, your body trembling from the adrenaline. Before you could say a word, Nikolai tapped his cane against the ground, opening one of his portals.

“Let’s not keep him waiting~” he said, and with a flick of his hand, you were whisked back to Fyodor’s side.

When you arrived, Fyodor was seated in his usual spot, his fingers elegantly poised on the keys of his cello. He stopped playing as soon as he saw you, his dark eyes scanning your form. You handed him the document without a word, expecting a curt acknowledgment or even a reprimand for nearly failing the mission.

But instead, something strange happened. Fyodor’s expression shifted—just for a moment, so quickly you almost missed it. Was that relief? Concern?

“You’re reckless.” he said, his voice colder than usual.

You shrugged, brushing off the comment. “It’s what you asked for. The mission is complete.”

Fyodor stared at you for a long moment before turning away. “No more.”

The words hung in the air, unfamiliar and heavy. You frowned, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “No more... what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood, his movements as graceful as always, and placed the document on his desk. “No more dangerous missions. I won’t send you out again.”

You blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t like him. ���Why? Did I do something wrong?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “No. You’ve done everything perfectly. That’s precisely why I’m putting an end to it.”

His words only confused you more. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this what you need from me? Someone to carry out your plans without hesitation?”

Fyodor moved closer, his presence suffocating. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. The gesture was almost tender, but his eyes carried the weight of something far darker.

“You’re more than a tool.” he said softly, his voice unnervingly intimate. “You’ve proven your loyalty time and time again. But you’ve also shown me something else, your value. And I won’t risk losing that. Losing you.”

His admission sent a chill down your spine. This wasn’t the cold, calculating man you had followed for so long. This was someone else, someone whose obsession ran far deeper than you had imagined.

“Fyodor...” you began, but he cut you off.

“I saved you once” he murmured, his fingers trailing down to your neck, resting lightly against your pulse. “And I’ll save you again if I must. But you won’t need saving anymore, because I won’t allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point clear.

“Do you see now?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t owe me your life. I’ve claimed it.”

Back when Nikolai saved you, you had thought it was just another mission, another brush with death. But later that night, as you tended to your wounds in silence, you overheard Fyodor speaking with Nikolai in a hushed, calculated tone. You were hidden behind the door, listening intently.

Their discussion revolved around a new plan—a dangerously elaborate scheme that would leave Fyodor exposed in its final stages. A specific detail caught your attention: the risks he was willing to take. He was so focused on the end goal that he disregarded the possibility of his own demise.

Your chest tightened. Fyodor’s ruthlessness had always been part of his charm, or his curse—but this time, it felt different. You couldn’t explain why it mattered so much, but the thought of him dying unsettled you in ways you weren’t prepared to face.

So, you made a decision.

Without a word to him or anyone else, you acted on your own. You followed the threads of the plan, inserting yourself at critical points to ensure everything would go smoothly. You intercepted threats, dismantled traps, and rerouted danger away from Fyodor.

But in the end, you couldn’t avoid everything.

The moment came during the final phase. A sniper’s rifle was trained on Fyodor from a hidden vantage point, the assassin waiting for the perfect moment to strike. You didn’t hesitate. Throwing yourself into the line of fire, you shielded him, taking the bullet meant for his heart.

The pain was blinding, and as you collapsed to the ground, you barely registered Fyodor’s voice calling out to you, sharp and filled with something you’d never heard before -panic.

When you woke days later, you were in an unfamiliar room. The stark walls were suffocatingly plain, and the heavy silence was broken only by the faint hum of distant machinery. You tried to move but found yourself too weak, your body weighed down by exhaustion.

It didn’t take long for Fyodor to appear. He entered the room with his usual grace, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. But there was something different about him.

“You’re awake” he said, his voice calm but cold.

You managed a weak smile. “Looks like I ruined your plan.”

Fyodor didn’t respond right away. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The touch sent a chill down your spine.

“You didn’t ruin anything” he murmured. “But you came dangerously close to ruining yourself. And that, I cannot allow.”

His tone was unsettling. It wasn’t anger or disappointment—it was something darker, something possessive.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, though his expression suggested he already knew the answer.

You struggled to find the words. “I... couldn’t let you die.”

Fyodor’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “So loyal” he mused. “But you should have known better than to act without my permission.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a single gesture.

“From now on” he said, his tone firm “you won’t be leaving my side. No more missions. No more reckless heroics. You’ve proven you’re incapable of protecting yourself, so I’ll do it for you.”

His words felt like a prison sentence. “You can’t just isolate me” you protested weakly. “I’m not some fragile thing to keep locked away.”

Fyodor leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You are mine” he said softly. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you stay by my side, alive and unharmed. You’ve played the hero for the last time.”

His hand lingered on your face for a moment before he stood. “Rest” he commanded. “This is your new life now.”

As he left the room, you felt the weight of his obsession settle over you. Fyodor Dostoevsky had always been a man of control, but now that control extended to you in ways you never imagined. You had saved him, but in doing so, you had unknowingly sealed your own fate.

-----

You knew it was only a matter of time before Fyodor’s suffocating control became unbearable. His obsession, once subtle, had grown into something oppressive. The isolation he imposed wasn’t protection, it was a cage. You could feel yourself losing pieces of who you were, and you refused to let that happen.

It was with quiet desperation that you turned to an old acquaintance from the team, someone who had always harbored doubts about Fyodor’s methods. They agreed to help you, knowing the risks but willing to defy him for your sake.

The plan was simple yet perilous. Your friend created a diversion, slipping you out of the facility during a chaotic moment. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you breathed the open air, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Freedom was fleeting.

It didn’t take long for Fyodor to discover your escape. His network was too vast, his reach too far. And when he learned of the betrayal, his retribution was swift and merciless.

You were hiding in a safe house when he found you. The door burst open, and Fyodor entered with his usual eerie calm, though the storm raging in his dark eyes was unmistakable. Behind him, two of his men dragged in your friend—bloodied, beaten, and barely conscious.

“You thought you could run from me..” Fyodor said, his voice a chilling whisper. “Did you really believe I wouldn’t find you?”

Your heart sank as he turned to your friend. “And you” he continued, his tone laced with venom. “Betrayal is such an ugly thing.”

Before you could intervene, Fyodor gave a subtle nod to one of his men. A gunshot rang out, and your friend collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

“No!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

Fyodor stepped toward you, his expression unreadable. He wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his gloved hand, as if to mock your anguish. “You made me do this” he said softly. “If you had stayed where you belonged, none of this would have happened.”

The next thing you knew, you were back in Fyodor’s domain, locked in a room with no windows and a single door that never opened unless he willed it.

Fyodor visited often, his presence both comforting and menacing. He brought you food, books, even flowers, as though these small gestures could erase what he had done.

“You forced my hand” he told you one evening, sitting beside you with a calmness that belied his actions. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I couldn’t allow such betrayal to go unpunished. And I couldn’t allow you to leave me.”

You glared at him, anger boiling beneath your grief. “You’re a monster...” you spat.

Fyodor tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smile. “If being a monster is what it takes to keep you, then so be it.”

He reached out, brushing your hair back gently. “Don’t you see? You belong to me. You can try to run, but I’ll always find you. I’ll always bring you back.”

You turned away, the weight of his obsession crushing your spirit. Fyodor had always been meticulous and unyielding, but now you realized the extent of his madness. You were no longer just a part of his plans, you were his plan.

[httpskuzuu]

Crybaby

I'd like to think I've gotten better at writing things like this

Fyodor x Reader

idk english, bye

summary: Fyodor always likes to test your limits

tw: NSFW, afab reader but no gender specified, vaginal sex, orgasm denial, bondage, over-stimulation, creampie, everything is consensual, aftercare at the end because it is the minimum

Besides his partner, you were his little experiment.

Fyodor didn't hold you in the highest regard at first, weak and sensitive as you were, it was no surprise that you didn't earn even the slightest respect from him. The only thing he saw you useful for was to observe your reactions.

What face would you make if he did that to you? Would you cry if he did this to you? Do you have any boundaries that would make you break down completely? It was fun for the man, not so much for you. But you let that happen, you didn't have a single complaint to say to him, what were you thinking of saying to someone like Fyodor?

You still don't understand how you ended up in a relationship with him, but to be fair, he doesn't quite figure it out either. Maybe it was how easy it was to get attached to you, with your usual kindness and sympathy for your fellow man, maybe it was your interest that called him, how you were always so attentive to his needs and how submissive you were.

Now, your dear fiancé wanted to take his experiments into another area.

Fyodor lovingly kept the sight before his eyes, the ropes wrapped so perfectly around your wrists, your naked and vulnerable body, for his eyes only, and those encapsulated tears wanting to come out of your eyes. You are perfect for him, so pure he can't resist corrupting you.

His mouth returned to your chest, first giving his full attention to your nipples making you squirm, and then he began to move up, making a path of kisses until he reached your ear. You shuddered with the sensation of his breath so close to you.

"What's wrong, dear? Is it too much for you?" His voice didn't help your current state, it was unfairly sexy. You feel the warmth between your legs spread apart by Fyodor, you wish you could close them and feel the friction that act would give you.

"Fyodor…" You sob pathetically, your breath trembling as his hands caress your sides. Slowly, his hand grasps one of your breasts and squeezes it, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Before you can think clearly, Fyodor moves inside you again. His pushes were slow and controlled, as if having left you on the edge didn't affect him at all. You curse him to yourself as the tears finally fall, it's too much, it doesn't allow you to have a single coherent thought in your head, you can only focus on how you want Fyodor's cock to bring you to orgasm.

"Come on, маленькая мышка. Use your words."

Fyodor gently kisses your salty cheeks, giving you a small comfort so that within seconds he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up. You can't control the sounds you make as you feel Fyodor so deeply.

His assaults go from calm to fast, crashing his pelvis against yours and causing obscene noises to fill the room. Your back arches in pleasure and you try to struggle against the ropes, the fact that you couldn't hold on to anything because you were tied to the headboard was frustrating. You need to grab and claw at something, to be able to release at least a little bit of everything you were feeling.

"Ah! Please!" You can't even speak properly and you try to hold on to nothing while Fyodor comes so deep in your needy pussy. You don't remember how many times you were so close to touching orgasm and Fyodor denied you, you couldn't take it anymore. "L-Let me cum! I'll do anything!"

If Fyodor could keep this moment forever, he would. You are a pathetic little thing in his sight, with those tears staining your whole face and your eyes lost in pleasure.

Decide he's tortured you enough. Your plea is too sweet to his ears and touches his soft side, so this time he doesn't stop when he notices your higher-pitched voice or when your walls clench so tightly around him. Unlike before, he became faster when he hit you, especially when he felt that he also touched his limit.

You joined your lips in a messy kiss. You weren't even able to concentrate properly on that.

Fyodor's fingers playing with your clit was the last thing you needed to cum at that moment with a loud moan, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes, lost in delight.

After a few more deep thrusts given to your already overstimulated pussy, you feel Fyodor cum inside you, filling your insides with warm liquid.

Fyodor drops your hips onto the bed and kisses your forehead as he gives himself a few seconds to breathe naturally again. You just lie there on the bed, ruined. He pulls out of you and before long you feel the strange sensation of his semen coming out of you, but you're too tired to care.

Your eyes close, but you can feel Fyodor untie your injured wrists. You leave them immobile on the sides of your head, you can bet that they will surely get a red hue in a few seconds.

You don't know how much time passed, but you spent it in a state of semi-consciousness until Fyodor's hand on your back made you alert.

"Come on, дорогой. Have some water." You open your eyes between complaints. The man helps you to sit up in a sitting position and tips the glass full of water into your mouth. It doesn't take you a second to drink it. You feel how the cold water helps your throat, exhausted from screaming.

"Are you alright? Was I too hard?" You snort with a smile and rest your sleepy head on his bare shoulder. His hand caresses your back reassuringly.

"I'm fine, just very tired. My wrists do hurt a little, though." You see how bruises are already appearing on them. Maybe having used such a tight rope had been a bad idea, but you hadn't really been able to notice the pain before.

"Mmmh… Next time I'll be sure to get something softer." He says thoughtfully, dropping his face into your messy hair. "Maybe some velvet handcuffs will suit you."

He picks up one of your wrists with his free hand and brings it to his smiling lips, kissing it.

"I'm sure they would."

"But now, ideally, we'd better take a bath, okay, дорогой?" You complain uselessly because within minutes you are already inside the bathtub together with Fyodor, with him on your back.

You close your eyes, too relaxed to worry about cleaning yourself, you might as well leave that job to Fyodor. He notices how slowly your breaths slow and your body relaxes against his.

He decides not to bother you, he's annoyed you enough today. This time it's his turn to take care of you

it is 6 a.m., what am I doing

[yonseibananamilk]

“𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒆."

synopsis 𓂃𓈒𓍼ོ living with fyodor was the same as living without him. however, the night of his return reminds you, embarrassingly so, just how close the two of you are. literally. (~4k wc)

a/n 𓇢𓆸 i think i may or may not be starting to hate my writing BUT i really stretched beyond what im used to in certain parts of this and i am quite proud of myself for that ^^

content 𓍼ོ𓂃𓈒 canon compliant, suggestive themes(especially around the end), fyodor is very cold temperature-wise, soft!fyodor(hes soft in his own way), references to my work song fic ! + connected directly to it will come back as it is a part 2 ^^

ᡣ𐭩 special special જ⁀➴ this fic is in collaboration with @musamora ‘s new talk!fic ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و please try to check hers out too if you can — shes a brilliant writer and a lovely person overall <3

Books upon books knitted themselves compact inside the towering shelves that pressed into the walls of what you assumed was Fyodor’s home. He had never called it his home, in fact, you explicitly remember when he did bring you here —

“Welcome to this humble abode. Feel free to touch and grab whatever you desire. Everything here belongs to you, дорогая.”

— Ever since that blind date (gone wrong(but then right in the end)), the Russian had let you stay for as long as you liked. One night led to two, which led into you bringing over a few things for just a few more nights.

Which led to you staying with Fyodor for nearly a month now.

You shook your head at the thought. If anything, he was the visitor. The man was hardly ever home, therefore you weren’t even living together. And you were, like anyone else with experience in a leaky apartment, eager to accept a place as generous as this.

The house held two stories; the first floor with the living room, foyer, and utilities, and the second floor with the bathroom and bedroom. Not to mention there was even an accessible attic-study.

In the beginning, he had stayed the night with you on the couch while you remained upstairs. But it had been weeks since then. Your Russian companion, much to your dismayed crocodile tears, was now predominantly busy with his ‘mission’. You couldn’t argue with that.

Though, on one of the times when Fyodor did stay longer than just a few hours…

“Please? I don’t mind, I swear! Besides, we’re both adults, not some teenagers that’ll go off at the first brush of skin. You don’t have to sleep on the couch..!”

You didn’t want to admit that you had actually stained the sofa downstairs on the first day of being here — even if Fyodor knew about it already, with all his observance — and it also felt… wrong to have him sleep on the couch. Cold. In the dark. And very, very, very lonely.

With a desperate and dramatic gesture of your arms, you tried to make the bed as dreamy as possible to his cherry wine eyes. “See? So comfy!”

To prove your point even further, you jumped on yourself with a muffled noise in the comforter.

“How amusing.”

Your point was most certainly not taken.

Therefore, you began to deflate into the sheets. Even more muffled now, and perhaps even softer than before, you mumbled out — “Is ‘modesty’ really the only reason why you won’t share anything with me?”

Everything in the room stilled. As if gauging the weight behind your words. Then, faintly, a gust of a sigh fell into the golden air of your nearby nightlamp. The candle flame was tickled into a dance thanks to the Russian, twisting and spinning hypnotically.

So hypnotically that you failed to catch the shift in the bed beside your head.

Not until a chilled hand fell atop your head. Bony fingers of ice itself urged your face up and away from the fire. Your attention was rewarded with a smooth, humming smile.

“There is more, дорогая.” He admitted. “But those reasons have nothing to do with you. After all, you are the sole reason why I would like to sleep here.”

Briefly, so much so where you barely even caught it this time — a thumb brushed over your lips. Cherry wine eyes batted down at you, reflecting the flame behind your burning face. Like the sun was the center of his very being.

“Then why don’t you?”

As his thumb curled into the corner of your lips, the rest of his hand glided over your skin. Two fingers read the curves of your jawline. Its adjacent pair followed down to the side of your neck.

He could grab your entire head with ease.

Fluttering ties in your stomach unraveled and twisted again in an endless heap of knots. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he thinking of? Why is he getting closer?

A chilled breath brought respite to your burning cheeks. But only for a moment.

Why is he moving away?

“Be wary of the fatigue that will eat you, if you do not sleep soon, дорог��я.”

Pale feet revisited the cold, yet still warmer than him, floors. Wood welcomed him with a tired creak, following the man’s every step until he reached the doorway. By then, you had turned off your back to finally face him yourself.

“But I’m not tired.” Horribly, a yawn tore through your last syllable. The heaviness of your eyelids was never apparent until now.

Another amused hum brought you back to the Russian before you, hand on the knob as he smirked down at you. Slowly, the sharp edges of his little grin faded into something softer, fuzzier.

A smile, he had gifted you.

“If you are not tired…” Your heart skipped a beat, anticipating every little thing for his next suggestion. As if crying out — “What? Yes? What is it?”

“Then remember this: there is danger in giving into one’s desires, дорогая.” Icy red eyes rove over your laden figure with an unreadable spark. He always looked at you so curiously.

“I would be wise to not fall victim to such dangers. As would you.”

The closing door halted itself instantly when you let out the smallest of huffs.

“My offer still stands…” With a dragging breath of protest, you fell underneath the blankets.

Black swirls encapsulated your mind as you managed to spin his words effortlessly; “Remember this: there is reward for passing through danger.”

…

Unknowingly shooting through the Russian’s morale — you fell asleep with the same singular weight of your own on the bed. However, the door was still ajar in the morning upon your awakening.

But that moment was weeks ago. The memory of it proven by the clear frown on your lips — twitching up and down every now and then based on whatever the book you read said.

You wouldn’t spend your time thinking about someone who wouldn’t even give you so much as a clear answer to ‘How was your day?’

A creak of wood whipped your head around in urgence. Only for nothing to be there.

Nothing but a pang of disappoint. All at the absence of a certain Russian.

Well. Maybe you would spend a bit of your time.

With a ruffled sigh you fell back against the chair, pages still in hand as the grandfather clock behind you whisked the day away. These moments of solitude had become a daily part of your life — ever since popping out of Fyodor’s floorboards like a daisy in the snow.

But they might as well have been your floorboards too.

The creak of wood glided past your ears. Followed by the light shuffle of a coat being draped over the rack nearby. Then the ghosts of footsteps slowly but surely making their way toward the living room.

“Hm?”

Much to his amusement, there you sat. Old book in hand atop the gentle rise and fall of your chest. In a peaceful slumber too.

“How adorable.” The R rolled after his deep chuckle, growing slightly in volume as he drew closer to your laden frame. “Falling asleep to folktales, are we? Hm, дорогая?”

Frostbite ghosted over your cheek. A chill fell over your fingertips — the lingering absence of your now-taken book. Burgundy eyes flitted over the title with a deep hum.

Surprisingly enough, you had managed to find one of the few English books that hid in his shelves. The vast majority were Russian(as he wasn’t the best with learning new languages).

“Orpheus and Eurydice?” His tongue read. “Now what on Earth compelled you to read such a tale..?”

Firewood slid off one another as it ate away at itself in incessant hunger. A desire for something warmer than what it already had. A rod poked it stable in no time.

“Perhaps my дорогая is more romantic than she lets on. It makes me wonder…”

The shadows around him chuckled in tandem before, again, rippling as the fireplace was muted once more.

‘What a foolish thought.’ His brain reprimanded.

Yet his heart leapt not once, but twice — as you began to slowly stir awake. With orange light painted across the dips of your babbling lips in a silent dance with dark.

“Uah… who’s there..?”

Raven locks fell to the side as he tilted towards you slowly. Akin to an animal watching something unusual. Unexplainable. Unimaginable. A thick silence filled the air as Fyodor lagged to translate your words — no thanks to the strange foreign tingling south of his head — all by the sight of you.

‘How vulnerable.’ He mused. ‘How adorable.’

Despite knowing full well what was coming out his lips — despite knowing just what it could risk for him —

“Федя is here.”

He had willingly revived something. Something that had lied dormant for dozens of hundreds of years. All for you. You and your daftly half-conscious state. He hadn’t been called such a simple name since childhood.

And since his family was alive.

Despite his already-dissipating regret, icy tips glided reverently over the crown of your head. The locks of it threaded like yarn. Each part sifted through like flour. The back of it all was cupped tightly — encouraging your limp head to face him.

“Fe… diya…?”

Oh how adorable you were. So sleepy you couldn’t even pronounce a simple nickname. A diminutive. An endearment.

Nor could you realize how special you were right now. Though, that was the norm at this point.

“Yes. Can you indulge Fedya for a moment, дорогая?” The Russian cooed with a smile both condescendingly familiar, and unrecognizably tender.

Your whined nod was enough to coax him closer. Arms atop the sides of the chair. Frosted breath wafting just shy of your pulse.

“Can you tell Fedya what you were thinking of? Hm?”

Lithe fingers haunted the cover of your little folktale with echoed taps. His cherry wine gaze hooked onto the half-lidded glaze in your eyes.

“Tell him what you were thinking of when reading such a story?”

As slurred syllables pooled from your tongue, Fyodor locked himself onto every quiver, bite, and sound. Each was greedily soaked into the prodigy’s mind — held in higher regard than any mazed tactic.

Although just as half-lidded as yours, his eyes were far more awake than they had been during his accursed mission earlier.

After all, if Fyodor knew such a sweet sight waited for him here — he would’ve destroyed everything in his path to get back as soon as possible.

Frosted breath ghosted over the angle of your jaw, waiting patiently for something more.

“I… I thought that Eurydice was very lucky to have been loved so dearly... Regardless of what happened at the end.”

Black brows rose at you. “Lucky?”

“Yes. I’m a bit envious — being loved so dearly is…” A shake of the head pauses your sleepy train of thought. With a deep breath, your head reclined further into the plush of your seat before correcting yourself.

“Being loved is a very lucky thing indeed.”

Well weren’t you the lucky one?

The gentle squeaks of the couch were thankfully muffled by your weight, settling further and further into its cotton fabric. Your warmth soaked into it well. Though, much of that warmth was the fire’s — which only seemed to be growing.

Just along the edges of your peripheral, a certain smiling Russian was also present — leaned over your shoulder closely. Close enough for the scent of black tea to flood your nostrils yet again.

“Could you imagine it?”

A chill ran over the hairs on the nape of your neck. Fyodor’s breath was cold. His lips too.

“Imagine being loved…?” Your voice was far softer than expected. “I… suppose it would be nice. Very nice, in fact. I’d like to be cared about…”

Shifting your eyes, the golden text of the book was now being circled by Fyodor’s idle fingers. Lithe enough to perfectly recreate the intricate cursive. And cold enough to make you shudder at the mere sight.

Nonetheless — the image of such hands snug around you was as warm as the shared fireplace.

“Wouldn’t everyone?” He cooed. Slender fingertips rhythmically tapped atop the book cover.

“Being loved…” Cherry wine eyes reflected the orange fire beside you. “Or wanted…”

You swallowed a lump in your throat that certainly wasn’t there before.

“Is a very human desire.”

Another swallow. Glued to the fiddling hands in your lap, your heart leaped with you upon asking;

“Do you desire it as well?”

Briefly did his eyes widen.

It was borderline impossible to catch Fyodor off-guard. But, as luck would have it, you succeeded at it like any other mundane task. You always did.

It’d be terrifying if not so attractive.

“I suppose…” Once unoccupied fingers found their way atop your shoulder. Chills ran through your arm. As well as an unwelcome spark through your entire body. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

A flicker of your shared fireplace caught your eye. Avoiding the piercing gaze of Fyodor Dostoevsky as he, much to your confusion, stared into your very essence. It was as if he was analyzing every curve and groove before completely committing it to memory.

That sly, condescending chuckle reeled you home to him. All semblance of earlier surprise had drained from his eyes. “What a curious question, дорогая. Were you picturing it in your mind?”

Blackberry strands fell against the white fabric of his shirt, flowing in tandem with the inching of his face.

“Thinking… pondering… wondering…”

Orange light danced within the seeds of his eyes.

“Imagining what it’d be like to be loved by me?”

You didn’t know whether to fuse with the couch or disappear completely.

Whatever happened to the fire danced over your already-burning cheeks — radiating against the chill of Fyodor’s face as he bordered closer and closer.

“Can you imagine it?”

Close enough to count each eyelash.

Close enough to taste the scent of black tea and iron on your tongue.

Close enough to feel the subtle heat of his cheeks.

“Imagine being loved by me?”

Your lower lip began to tremble. Sweat sprinkled from your shaky palms. That same spark shocked you from head to toe yet again.

Everything felt heavy. Heavy and warm.

And your nose itched. Itched and twitched. You couldn’t help but sniff — which only amplified the hot water in your eyes — already glittering in your lashes. The unsaid border between the two of you dwindled like a candle in the wind.

All you knew was that you were sweaty, shaky, and far too warm to be considered normal.

A snort caught itself in his throat. While perfectly timed with just how stiff you were getting, your little sniffle was not out of embarrassment. Simply an incoming sneeze that he would gladly bless you for in: 3, 2—

“Achoo!”

…

He did not want to finish that countdown.

“Woah…! I got my boogers on your face! Hah!”

“That you did.” The Russian begrudgingly muttered, closed eyes subtly twitching under the weight of your giggles and dabbing sleeve. “Bless you.”

Despite all your unceremonious, uncouth, undisciplined whatnots — the sheepish smile you flashed to him was hardly ignored. “Thank you… Did it get in your eye?”

“Fortunately not.”

“Aww. Better luck next time then.”

The caught snort from before clawed its way out of Fyodor and into a throaty, hearty, genuine laugh.

No cocky chuckles. No sadistic grins. No sly hums.

Just a normal laugh. With golden fire reflecting off the sides of his face like framing sunrays. And a usually imperceptible ombre of deep magenta in his otherwise black hair — thanks to the generous amount of light the fireplace provided a few feet away.

Sure, it was akin to the cawing of crows at the crack of dawn — Fyodor most certainly hadn’t laughed like that in what seemed like centuries. But it was touching nonetheless.

Very much so.

“It’s rude to stare, дорогая.”

It was even harder to look away when he was smiling so warmly.

“I bet Orpheus wouldn’t think Eurydice was rude — even when her boogers got in his eye.”

An unfamiliar emptiness frosted over your shoulder when the Russian leaned away. “Perhaps, дорогая. Perhaps.”

You couldn’t recall a time when he was ever so warm.

“There are no more wool blankets.” The Russian patted through the wooden cabinets with a small hum. “Дорогая, you wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”

Looking over his shoulder, a cherry wine gaze poured over your freshly showered & dressed body. You learned to always stay snug for the cold that managed to occasionally sneak its nightly way past the fireplace — crackling happily a hallway down.

You hummed back, offering the man a smile warm enough to rival it. “I do.”

“And whatever happened to them?” Knowing lips cooed. The answer fell sweeter when it was from your tongue than his mind.

“I put them in the attic because they scratched at my face,” Rubbing at your arms, a wave of apology washed over you. Maybe Fyodor preferred blankets that way? Scratchy and itchy. He was a strange man after all.

Even more strange now that he was finally content with sharing a bed. You don’t think you’d ever seen a man smile for so long. However eerie though, at the end of the night, it was… endearing.

Tonight, he had changed out of the usual wear for war(or whatever he did outside of the house) — a fluffy white robe wrapped snug around Fyodor. Tied together by the loose cotton belt.

“And so you have been sleeping in a single blanket? Instead of the multiple wool ones I had given you?” The urge to hang your head was woefully strong. You opted to shuffle your feet instead.

“Yes, Fyodor. I… I can give you the blanket for the night if that’s what you want?”

Briefly, his roving eyes met yours. With a small lilt of his voice, which was another strange way of expressing amusement for him, the Russian cooed; “And leave a woman to fend for herself against the cold?”

Another spark of warmth crackled under your skin. The sensation swam through your bones in a melting frenzy that burned your face once it reached it.

“T-then we can share…?”

Cherry eyes crinkled in delight.

“Wonderful idea, дорогая.”

As your knees slowly crawled up to meet your chest, the sway of his hair encapsulated you in a garden of imagination — with cherry wine eyes to drink and straight locks that rivaled shades of the ripest blackberries. Such sweet attributes for such a cold man.

Literally. He was colder than the air itself when sitting on your bed. The man could’ve drunken up all the warmth in the room, and still ask for more.

“You’re freezing!” You whined out, curling into a shuddering ball. “Maybe you should take that blanket, you might as well take the ones in the attic too.”

A frown quipped its brows at you. Yet, despite all his shown annoyance, there lacked a general sense of danger that once lived within.

Every glare was now punctuated with a cooing riddle of warning but quickly followed by a soft smile — imperceivable to all he knew. Excusing you.

“And I assume that means you are warmer? Hm?”

“Well, duh. I’ve been soaking in the fireplace all day waiting for you.”

“Oh?”

Under the gentle fire of your candlelit bedside, a meek coral bloomed across the slim cheeks of his face. His ears were red too — how long had he been that way?

“So, you were waiting for me?”

“Yes.” An exasperated breath left you feeling flustered and confused.

“Diligently?”

“And I was very lonely the whole time.”

A sense of deja vu sprung over you like a freshly pouring fountain.

Candlelight brewed against his face. Cherry wine eyes raked over your every inch. Pale skin, now painted with pink, smoothly approached closer and closer and closer —

Until the two of you are face to face once again. Illuminated only by generous candlelight and warmed by a singular blanket, except for Fyodor leeching off your heat.

“Дорогая, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume you thought we were married. With you waiting so, what was the word...?"

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Ah yes. Diligently for my arrival.”

Freezing fingertips grazed along the bridge of your jaw. Dancing over the skin like whistling air, then halting at the chin. Two fingers held it gently, softly, reverently even.

“Though, my words are not necessarily a complaint.”

Candlelight pooled over the side of his face, glistening in the corners of Fyodor’s eyes like water lanterns at nighttime. You could only hope he was staring at you because you looked just as beautiful.

Gulping, a strained noise tumbled from your lips —

“Oh? Whining now?” A chilling thumb ran over the shine of your bottom lip. He was closing in.

“I did not whine.” Your voice cracked. “I just—”

Words left you. Tumbling freely from your throat in an entanglement of broken syllables and whines.

And with each mishap, his grin only grew. Evident by the crinkled underside of his trailing gaze.

At long last, a semblance of defense clicked into mind — spilling out with almost-paralyzing heat inside. And yes. Your voice cracked a second time.

“You caught me off-guard!”

“I did?” He crooned. The weight of your blanket was peeled off — making way for Fyodor to finally join you. Which you would’ve been over the moon about — if your thoughts weren’t so scrambled. You only hoped his were, too.

Every restrained laugh. Every languid movement. Everything he did — you prayed that he felt even a semblance of the bashfulness you did. Maybe then, it wouldn’t feel so embarrassing.

“Oh, дорогая.” Frostbitten lips sighed. “You truly are adorable.”

Time melted into an infinity of simply you and Fyodor. With your brain dry of anything else to say, and his hopefully the same. With one last strained noise, you turned away to bury yourself into the cotton of your now-shared bed.

A candlelit silence bloomed over.

As the sheets’ soft heaviness cradled back over you, Fyodor included now, the man slid himself behind your burning face — peacefully watching the uncharacteristic heat fizz out of your little head.

Blackberry locks stretched over the expanse of the pillow like grape vines across a fence.

Amid all your muffled sounds, the cotton had begun to seep a sense of sleep into your skin, added on by Fyodor’s granted silence. With a sniffle, you reluctantly let go of his blundering words — slowly but surely relaxing into the candlelight bed. But not without an evident pout.

A haze of warmth enwrapped you. Cozy.

The edges of consciousness were held by none other than a familiar pair of cold hands. Which slithered their way around your waist — pulled you snugly against their owner’s body — allowing him to soak in the feast of your body heat.

Oddly enough, as the Russian slid himself closer, not an inch of his frigid temperature leaked into yours. Quite the opposite.

Your slumbering body thawed away at his cold one.

Save for one place that did not need any more warming. Like his cheeks, for example. Or elsewhere.

taglist ᯓᡣ𐭩 @aureatchi @soleelia + people that also wanted to be added but please know time is my greatest enemy

translations! (these are rough translations, and if there are any inaccuracies please let me know)

дорогая - ‘darling’ i just cant envision fedya saying ‘baby’. darling is the only accurate one.

thank you so much to @musamora for betareading again !!! she is quite literally the sweetest writer i know and this fic couldnt be possible without her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

also thanks to @/saradika-graphics for all the wonderful dividers! the images for the banner were either found on pinterest or edited by yours truly <3 thank you for reading !

© yonseibananamilk 2024 - please refrain from copying, plagiarizing and/or reposting my works on other platforms. reblogs, notes, and comments are very appreciated!

[elvestoneanzelote1]

Hello may I request a Platonic! Dazai x Mother! Reader.

Basically, Reader is Dazai’s biological mother, but of course he doesn’t know and grew up thinking he had no mother for the majority of his life, and Reader watched over him during his Mafia days, watching and protecting him in the shadows while putting up a front and working besides Hirotsu, who along with Mori knew they were related. So before and during the Dark Era, reader and Mori made a deal that if Dazai left the Mafia, she would be forced into isolation with no contact with the outside world, but if Dazai stayed, the reader would finally be able to speak with her son as a mother instead of a stranger. Obviously, Dazai left, and it wasn’t until the whole fiasco with Fyodor and the vampire outbreak that during the scene with Chuuya “shooting” Dazai in the head, he finally heard his mother’s voice of sorrow and anger shouting to Fyodor, “What have you done to my son?!”

(The ending is up to you and how Dazai reacts and if you write this as Yandere or not. P.S. I love your works and I am an absolute fan of your Zhongli/Albedo! Reader, Yandere BSD fic❤️)

𝙰:𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝... 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝.

𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢.

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒. (𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌).

𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚒

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙵𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚈𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚑i

Part 2

What was a mother like for him...? Dazai does not know.

He doesn't remember his parents much either... Perhaps abandoned him? Perhaps he is worth nothing in the eyes of his parents... Even his mother must be ashamed to birth him... Right?

Dazai always felt incomplete as he Stared the happy families which he... Wish he had too.

That was until, Mori brought him to Port mafia.

Perhaps he truly belongs to... Bloodshed?

Perhaps not...

But his heart melt when you came to his life.

You were apart of Black Lizards... Well not that much but some... Connected mission you does so.

You were about 35 or perhaps more then that?.

To be honest... You yourself was shocked to see your son in port mafia.

Even if you want to approach him... Ask how the father was... You knew somehow he... The father must have past away leaving... Dazai alone.

Don't get y/n wrong... She was a victim of Teenage pregnancy... The father offered her money to birth a boy for him to inherit his property as a refine man

As your parents left a huge debt onto your life you agreed.

But somehow... Dangle yourself with Hirotsu your... Friend... Perhaps? You can say that way even If he is older then you but.

He was the one offered you to join Port mafia.

Unaware of the fact Dazai have no one with him... To call a family...

Only through Him appeared with Mori had you realise your guilt.

You blame yourself not trying to find the fact if your son was okay.

Perhaps money does blinded your motherly nature.

But... All you can do was smile warmly at him.

Despite Kouyou who take upon you too... She respect you like an older sister and watch over Dazai for you too when you are out.

But... Perhaps that was a fault on your part to be attach with your son... Who doesn't realise your his mother.

Honestly you were very much concern when he ask you to suicide with him.

It was... Heartwrenching on your part.

But slow it was yet, you stay with Dazai... Like a mother... No to ease your guilt for leaving him almost 13 years of his life.

He was an just a baby a year old when you left him... You can't blame him if he forget you... As you are the fault here.

"L/n-san! Did you know what happen today?" Asked Dazai who happily sat beside you and side hug you as you gently smile at him.

"What happen today? Dazai?"

"Today I burn a farm! It was accident but thankfully those people which we need to kill are dead now"

"So you completed your mission?"

"Yep! And I eventually hurt my head!"

"Are you fine now? Shall we go to Boss?"

"Nope! Just kiss my forehead and it will be better!" Said Dazai as you chuckle slightly yet does so.

He oftens stays beside you laying his head on your lap as you let him sleep.

He felt close to you... Perhaps if he had a mother... If she is alive maybe... Will she care like you do? He often thought that way while letting himself cuddle to you.

As much as he hate sharing your warmness you also care for Akutgawa... Well leading him to take some... Steps which concern you.

Akutagawa start avoiding you afraid he will disappoint Dazai.

Your ability was not for fighting more likely telepathy. You can talk to people afar through telepathy if you wanted to and... The fact you read mind because of it.

𝙿𝚢𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗: your ability name.

Perhaps that is the reason why 𝙼ori was fond of you... Short of way.

He knows Dazai is your son and you care a lot.

Despite him should not value much but for an tiny bit he kind of find peace been with you.

"Did you know, Y/n-chan"

"Hmm?" Your gentle e/c eyes side glance at Mori who hold onto Elise hands who on the other hand holds yours.

Afar it might look like a family but you aren't far from that thought.

"Some colleagues were wondering if we were married of sort before I... even became the boss you often stay around for me" said Mori as your gentle smile never wavered.

"Oh? But I do say, Boss you should get married unless you plan on dying single"

"Your indeed correct but I cannot find a women who is kind or tolerable for me"

"Are you searching for one?"

"Not really... Perhaps I already have someone on my mind" said Mori who stopped and faced you.

You blink slightly confused as Mori gently hold your left hand.

"There are women's that come and go even if I trust my ability as a sole... You have also become an important piece on my life, Y/n"

"...what... are-" his other hand gently stroke your face as your eyes widen staring up at him.

'I know you will read my thoughts... But I guess it will better this way...' Thought Mori to you as your eyes widen by his confession.

'Will you marry me y/n? And solely be apart of my life?'

"...but what if, I betray you?"

"Will you?" Said Mori who let out a chuckle as he stepped away abit as your mind race with thought of confusion as the only word came to your mind.

'Reject him'

"Well I will give you time to think..." Said Mori leaving with Elise who chuckle and walk away with your mind been blank of what to think.

Your heart was forever close for anyone except your son whom you love dearly as a mother should.

But... Loving another man? Yes Mori have been kind to you and you knew him when he was just an underground doctor.

You even met Fukuzawa too who told you to leave Mafia.

But you couldn't.

You can't leave your son.

And before that you couldn't.

You cared about Hirotsu.

Who is only friend of yours that was with you when your parents sucided themself.

Time past by as you were more likely ignore the question of that day.

As One day Dazai left.

He left without a word.

As much as it hurted you.

You knew it was better perhaps that friend of his have really change Dazai for better.

You could only wish to see your son been in good well.

Even if Akutagawa was hesistant he still stay with you as you cared for him as he was indeed your son student.

Both the siblings admit your like a mother for them and you even encouraged them to call you their mother of sort.

But...

When Dazai left you knew your fate was sealed.

"What do you think, Y/n-chan? Do you like white or red dress as a wedding dress?" Asked Mori while selecting dresses with Elise looking in choosing some accessories.

"Anything... Will be fine Mori-san..."

"Now now, You should call Ougai now no?" Said Mori who smile and gently hold your face sway away strand of hairs of yours from your face.

"After all, We will be together and you will be my wife soon, Isn't it lovely and honour for you to be my wife?"

"..."

He squeeze your face tighter as you try your best to smile a bit.

"Ye-yeah... Ougai-san..."

"Good very good... It is a shame Dazai will be unaware that I will be his soon step dad... Ah the irony but don't worry Y/n-chan I really like you... But more likely your ability is something which I cannot let you leave Mafia again" as Mori lean to your ear as you could feel his warm breath to yours.

"Never are you... Going to leave me, understood?"

"Y-yes Ougai-san"

.

.

.

.

.

.

But perhaps fate will bring the truth to your son... Well... More likely Ada told him the truth.

"...what do you mean?" Muttered Dazai as he side glance at Ranpo who told him the truth with Fukuzawa nodding with a frown present.

"Y/n l/n... Is your biological mother"

"...why did she left me then? And why did she come to my life again instead... Why?" Asked Dazai as he couldn't care if he is over showing his emotions.

As gentle as you are Fukuzawa frown that not a bit of Dazai resemble you perhaps the father infected him more.

Though some part he is slightly glad you never married anyone else after The birth of Dazai.

Either way, Dazai was asking what they meant truly.

"Your mother gave birth to you when she was only... 16 perhaps yeah... Been force to pay debt of her late parents she was offered money to birth a son by your father... Your mother was tossed away and given money when you were just a year old. Unaware of your life that your father passed away soon after and... Your Uncle took away your inheritance leaving you... Somewhere either way... Yeah it is y/n l/n your mother"

"...all this time... She was so close to me... Yet I never knew... I have to meet her and ask her about it.. If she know it too or even-"

"That's not the reason why we told you" said Ranpo as Dazai was abit confused as he quickly composed himself with a stiff smile.

"What do you mean?"

Fukuzawa handed Dazai a card who was confused with Fukuzawa frown present on his lips.

"Y/n was a close one even for me too... But perhaps in time she choose.... The port mafia boss Mori"

"...what kind of joke is this" muttered dazai as Fukuzawa nod.

"Either she is forc-"

"She have to be forced! Y/n- no mother never love Mori-san... And Mori-san value her for her ability.... We have to save Mother!" Said Dazai as he glance at Ranpo then Fukuzawa.

"Please... Since mother was close to you too, Save her from the marriage!"

"..." Fukuzawa let out a sighed as Ranpo side glance at the president and let out a chuckle.

"Seems... Like president gonna get another son beside me and I am getting a mother!" said Ranpo leading Fukuzawa to side glare at Ranpo with slightly flustered face as Dazai blink twice as his eyes widen in realisation.

"Even if... we save mother that doesn't mean I'm letting mother marry you!"

"...shut it concentrate on saving her from marriage first"

"Listen to your father, Dazai! And even Your older brother, me!"

"Ranpo/- San shut it"

"Now... you both are aiming me for nothing!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

𝙰:𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢/𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕! 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢/𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕!

[livelaughlovesubs]

Sigma and Fyodor with the prompts: fitting them with a collar and dressing them up in degrading outfits plsss. I need my subby Sigma. :3

Your thirsts shall be satisfied! Two subby men right away :]

Dom!gn!reader x sub!Sigma/ Fyodor (separate)

Warning: collaring, teasing, feminisation, hierophilia, cross dressing, established relationship(s)

Anniversary event

Sigma

He doesn’t even know why he agreed, he must have been out of his mind. He knew it was bad news when you came up to him, smiling all giddily, unable to hide your intentions while asking him so sweetly, “you’d do it for me, right? Plea~ase?”

And his intuition wasn’t wrong. Poor boy could barely contain himself when he saw what you had in store for him, and it took ages to actually convince him. Deep down, he cursed himself for being a push over when it came to you, but what was he supposed to do?

That’s how you got him to wear a super cute and revealing bunny boy costume, a typical one, except that it had some purple elements. Some of the ribbons were in a cute lavender colour. With it came a pair of bunny ears and plug tail, as well as some basic stockings. He didn’t dare to wear the tail by himself, since he was too embarrassed, and frankly, he didn’t manage to do it himself.

When he walked out of the room, to showcase just how amazing these clothes complimented his body, his face was already a bright red hue. Arms crossed in front of his chest, gaze lowered to the ground and knees threatening to give up underneath him. You gulped, astonished by how beautiful and sexy he looked, then you clapped as you complimented him, “it looks great! Really, really good!”

“Shut up..” Sigma replied all feisty, clenching his eyes shut as he shuddered. He wasn’t cold, it was because his heart was pounding really fast, pumping blood to his cheeks and lower part. It was too much for him to handle. “Aww, how mean of you~ I thought you wanted to be a good bunny?” You cooed at him, standing up and walking towards him with your hands behind your back, probably holding something, hiding it from his field of vision.

The male leaned back when he felt you were too close, eyes staring holes at the thing you were hiding, putting his hands up in front of his face, “h-hey, don’t tell me you have something lewd in mind.” You faked a surprised expression, gasping all dramatic, “something lewd? I’d never, what do you think of me?” But the smirk you had on your face told him otherwise, you really had to work on your mimics.

“It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” You explained, then quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, whispering a small, “promise ♡” He stared right into your eyes, sweating a little, body heating up at the closeness and intimate nature of the moment. That’s when he felt something being wrapped around his neck, and it tightened, choking him for a split second.

That fraction of a second was enough to make him jump and gag, yelping and whining, “argHH..! What- what are you doing?!” The suffocating feeling was soon gone, though now replaced with a slight itch of something wrapping around his neck. “Ahhh, sorry for not alarming you. It looks so pretty though!” You apologised halfhearted, pressing your hands together as you did.

He frowned, still blushing. To be honest he had an index what it was, though just to be sure, he reached for the item with his hand and brushed over it. As expected, it was a collar. “…why are you being so sneaky with putting it on me, you gave me a heart attack.” Sigma complained, looking away in shame. He was getting really flustered and aroused due to all the set up he wore, the blush even crept up to his ears now.

“I wanted to see your surprised expression.” You answered in a heart beat, now wrapping your arms around his waist. “It was so worth it.” The boy glared at you, pouting slightly. Then he felt you grope his butt, and he shrieked, squirming in your grasp, shoulders jerked upwards and he mumbled, “w-what now?!”

“Where’s your tail, little bun’?” You asked, not stopping yourself. He grasped your shoulder and pushed you away weakly, his voice was meek as he replied, “obviously not there..” Suddenly you chuckled, that caught him off guard. Which is why he stopped avoiding your gaze and glanced at you, immediately regretting that action because god he could feel his legs going weak because of that look on your face. It was as if you wanted to devour him.

With a low voice, you teased your little pet bunny, asking all provocative, “let me help you grow a tail then?” And gone was his last ounce of dignity or resistance. He didn’t even put up a fight as he fell into your arms, twitching all over while whispering his answer, “p-please do..”

Fyodor

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 1, Peter 4:8.” His beautiful voice, as graceful as ever, whispered softly while he scanned over multiple pages from the bible. He wanted to read you some of his favourite verses, lifting the corners of his lips slightly, eyes focused and sparkling. This was one of his hobbies, he liked how calming it was.

Most of the time, you weren’t even listening properly, instead you liked seeing that eager glim in his pupils. Sometimes he’d catch you staring, well, he knows you are, but he doesn’t mind. Still, you’d occasionally ask some questions, to keep him entertained, “what does that mean?” Fyodor closed his eyes, still smiling at you, then replied, “there is no definite answer, though if you ask me… I’d say sins committed in the name of deep love can be justified.”

You stayed quiet, thinking about his statement. Somehow that clicked in your head, and you asked to make sure, “Is that why you don’t hesitate when doing stuff with me?” He didn’t responded, only continuing to grin like nothing happened before leaning closer to you and giving you a peck on the lips. A sense of warmth and comfort swallowed your pounding heart, and you chuckled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

When you glanced at him again, you couldn’t help but think of how beautiful he was. That thought kept plaguing you, making you want to see him in a prettier outfit. “Hey, I think that’s enough for today,” you eventually declared, playing with his hair as you waiting for him to finish the page. “Hm? Alright then. I take it you have something else in mind?” Fyodor closed his bible, placing it onto the table next to him, looking at you expectantly.

“Yea, I actually do.” You told him while you grabbed his hand, guiding him to the closet and picking out some clothes for him to wear. “Ah…” he made a small sound of acknowledgment when he saw what you choose for him, then nodded and said, “i see what you want to do, well, I guess I don’t mind trying.” Despite how calm and collected he sounded, the small blush that crept up his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. Hence, you teased, “by the looks of it you are pretty excited as well.”

There goes his carefully crafted facade, he let a sharp sneer slip pass, then rushed you to get out. You had no choice but to wait until he was done. On your way out of the bedroom, you quickly opened one of the drawers, taking something with you. You hummed to yourself the entire time, anticipation building inside you. After about 10 minutes of leaning against the wall outside of the room, you heard the much awaited click of the door. Without wasting a single best, you barged back in.

“And? Does it fit? Lemme see-” annnd the waiting was worth it. You felt a tingle in your stomach when you laid your eyes on him, on his almost completely nude body. He was only wearing a set of black nun lingerie, with an equally dark cloth thrown over his head. The way he stood there was awkward, as if he wasn’t completely comfortable wearing these clothes. His eyes soon found yours, and his gentle smile returned.

“What do you think?” Fyodor teased, bending over slightly to make himself smaller, looking up at you, doing his signature expression. The bra and panties fit him perfectly, it emphasised his figure very well. Though it also reminded you of how awfully skinny and sickly he actually was, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from pulling him into a tight embrace. Wrapping both arms around his waist, pushing your body against his while mumbling sweet nothings into his ear.

One praise after another fell from your lips, grazing and tickling his skin like a tender breeze. “You look like an angel.” You said, even though his outfit was probably way too suggestive to be anything close to an angel. Nevertheless it didn’t change the fact that you thought he was heavenly. “Really, so gorgeous.” His blush darkened by a few shades, then he pushed you away playfully, whispering, “that’s enough. Can I change back now?” In contrary to what he expected, you shook your head, telling him, “there’s still one more thing.”

Before he got the chance to guess what you meant, you pulled out a collar that matched his eye colour. “This, I want to see you wear it.” You told him, so very straightforward, already getting to work and wrapping it around his neck. “Can I?” After you were almost done, you finally decided to ask him. He reacted pretty slow, eyes widened while he let you do what you wanted. And when you asked for his opinion, he hesitated for a bit, though in the end, he nodded meekly.

With a swift move, you adorned his neck with a personal collar, adding the final touch to his outfit. “It’s perfect.” You gasped astonished, reaching out to the collar and sticking one finger in, pulling slightly, “does it hurt?” The boy shook his head even if he gaged a little. Because of the pull he was now dangerously close to you, basically as close as earlier.

Without missing the chance, you spun him around and pushed him onto the bed, smiling as you chirped, “now, let’s see how deep our love is.”

There he was, all hot and bothered, almost laid bare, on his back, waiting for you like a five course meal you couldn’t resist. He smirked widely, giving you a cheeky answer, “I’m sure it’s deep enough to excuse whatever you’re going to do to me.”

Bonus!

[oishiyani]

🦐 ; Bigger Hints

warnings ; implied yandere behavior, contains nsfw, stalking, dark explicit content, gore(?) well slightly, NOT proof read (im sorry)😿, fem reader

wc ; 2,241

might make a few more bunch of these with the others in mind 😸!

maybe taking on the offer of the one and only fyodor dostoevsky wasn't such a bad idea at first. taking on the job to be an undercover spy for him, your job was to only spy on the list of people he gave to you. atsushi, dazai, blah blah blah.. a whole bunch of random people you don't even know from before. well not until now that you're already trying to pinpoint their whereabouts.

and in return, you get money. that's right- money.

you liked money, with it's own multiple purposes- to buy new clothes, food, accessories, some new shoes.. oh how it was such a dream for you to achieve those. i mean, the job was to only spy on them, don't act suspicious.. and don't get caught, those were the last thoughts before you accepted the job, signed the contract you were offered from fyodor.

fyodor.. was a strange and quite gave off an unsettling vibe for you. from his outfit dressed oddly to his dark mauve colored eyes gazing at you as you try to drink your tea in peace while you two were in the same room. why'd he have to look at you like that?! it was making the atmosphere quite a bit awkward so you shifted your gaze somewhere else quickly after meeting sight with him.

focus on something else... oh the music! yes, yes, y/n. just listen to the music and enjoy your food, don't look at fyodor for god's sake!

it had been already more than a few times of exchanging stares from each other between you and fyodor, you had to ask yourself why does he have to look at you so often? not like something's wrong with what you're wearing right? or maybe there was something on your face?

you assumed that fyodor has an interest in orchestra music. he would always play them while you two were doing nothing, his eyes closed as he listened to the tune while you sat there or while resting. you weren't allowed to bring your phone in fyodor's base. it was forbidden but you don't dare to ask why.

"soo.. how long have you been listening to orchestra music, fyodor?" you asked in hopes to lessen the unhandy feeling. starting a conversation to expect a reply when he did the opposite. now that made you felt quite embarrassed- or maybe he didn't hear you through the sound of the music running in the background?

great, now you just wanna bury yourself under the dirt.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

as days passed, fyodor's behavior made quite a curve.. rather than usual.

now, starting a conversation with him was the least likely thing you wanted to take action on. thinking that he was the person who didn't like to be disturbed after the 'awkward' event that happened a few days ago. but now was different.

he was getting quite getting verbal with you, besides the conversation of your report on the strange men you spied- fyodor started making side comments after your reports. it would sometimes be questions of what else did you do besides spying? or what did you eat today? or, did you take a bath?

then to be surprised to feel a vibration from your pocket after finishing your break in fyodor's base. receiving an unknown number through your phone. the message stating 'this is fyodor.'

now that felt the slight goosebumps on your skin. how'd he even get your number? you don't remember giving out your number to anyone these past few weeks.

you shrugged it off, telling your self it was no big deal. being familiar with fyodor didn't set you off, although you still wonder how'd he get your number from the start.

the next day you asked fyodor on how'd he get your number, to be only answered by silence and another music piece of orchestra playing in the background, was he avoiding your question- or did he not hear it again?

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

the next few days again, you receive such special and luxurious gifts outside your doorstep from an unknown sender. they would vary, to sets of bouquets, expensive chocolates, high quality essentials, and branded clothes and bags. and a gigantic fluffy teddy bear.

of course you were really shocked. at first, you thought that the sender might be sending a bunch of these gifts to the wrong person or the wrong address. but unfortunately the gifts didn't give any clue who was sending it, not even a note or an initial somewhere. truthfully you wanted to return it out of guilt, feeling that you don't deserve much of these- still thinking this must be for another person but mistaken you for that person. yet you still kept them, stacking it around the empty spaced corner you had in your dorm.

you're making money out of this job you have, you can get all of those one day if you finally start a career and become successful one day using the saved up cash you get from your job.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

on the last day of your contract, which stated that you only needed to do this for a month. unexpectingly your relationship between fyodor had become more.. closer?

fyodor started to question more about your personal life, your family, past history, relationships, your friends, experiences that you found funny. he listened while you kept talking. and one time, you swore that you heard him mumble, but you were in the middle of talking as you were pouring the kettle filled with tea onto your empty tea cup.

sitting on the fancy looking sofa, fyodor who's roots are surprisingly removed from his chair he usually sat on- instead, he sat near the single fancy looking chair just beside the long sofa you were sitting on.

"i'd love to hear your voice forever."

"sorry, i didn't hear what you said! what were you saying again?" you spoke as your hurried to place the kettle back to its old position.

to his reply, "oh- nothing, you can continue."

you blinked for a moment, "alright, so-" continuing what you were saying without a single curiosity on what he previously said. you assumed maybe it was just the wind? well that was funny for a wind to sound like fyodor that time. but once again, the poor oblivious y/n was going about to dive in the danger zone.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

"n-ngh.. ah-" fyodor hissed under his shortened breath, huffing as he watching from the desktop in front of him as his hand was moving up and down furiously around his cock from the displayed footage in his desktop.

a live footage of you, completely naked after your shower. it was such a delightful image to see in his eyes, your body wet, the way the water droplets drooped on your skin, your pair of tits who fyodor was craving to fondle.

god, it was making him so crazy. watching you dress up in a sexy looking dress- it was even the dress fyodor sent you. your bare ass faced in front of the camera made his action fasten- he bit his lips, his hand pumping his throbbing cock till he reached to his climax. making his cum stain on the screen of his desktop.

fyodor gulped the lump on his throat, calming his breathing when you were almost finished with dressing up yourself- you were grabbing a pair of heels then a doorbell suddenly rang on your door. it was 8pm, now who could that be? "coming!" you shouted, grabbing the purse that was on your bed.

fyodor watched you wear those pair of heels in a haste, you tried to run after wearing them- yet still being careful not to trip. he continued to watch you out of curiosity on who was on your doorstep in the middle of the night. unfortunately for him, the creek to your room showed a silhouette of you and another person who was taller than you, had quite a large figure, and was a man, he thought.

the built-in camera inside the teddy bear he sent you recorded the conversation coming through the hallway, both of you and the man's voices echoing loud enough for the camera to reach the volume. to fyodor's reaction, it really was the worse that y/n can imagine.

"are you ready for our date?" the voice of a man spoke

"mhm, didn't expect you to get here at the exact time we talked about!" your voice replied.

something inside fyodor was burning intensely, his heart felt a painful ache he couldn't prevent- his hands balled into a fist while his eyes glared at the screen after hearing what he just heard. a date? with this man he never knew of? how ridiculous.

he thought that you were getting the hints he was giving, although to you- it barely even got into your mind that he was into you by showing the sudden curve of behavior.

he had to make a bigger hint on who you only belong to.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

the contract ended with fyodor, you were now a cashier for a bakery- still saving up money for the career you want to pursue.

everything was as normal as usual, a day where you work, go home, eat, sleep. then to wake up to your new fiance cooking you a good smelling breakfast in the morning. you met your partner by just stumbling upon him by the street, spilling coffee on you that stained what you were wearing, offered to pay and treat you to a restaurant- he insisted alot so you couldn't help but agree, then that's where all the talking started.

he was a night shift worker who worked as an engineer. while you worked from afternoon to around the evening.

then suddenly, every important people in your life, disappear one by one.

receiving an email of a photo of your fiance caught kissing another woman in a club- heartbroken then went to seek comfort through your friends, but they refused to be in contact with you, you didn't know why!

you were in the lowest point of your life.. you seek your family, calling your mom- hoping that she'd pick up but to misfortune hitting you, you only got a message that says they're not available. for after 30+ calls every hour?!

you don't know what's happening.. you ask yourself what is happening? you were confused, so confused. you lied there on your bed for who knows how many days you were sobbing with red puffy eyes surrounded with tissues all over the place.

curled up into a ball, you were fired from your job for being absent for weeks without any reason. now that just made it worse for you- the feeling of being back to zero, now who were you to turn to now?

'fyodor..' wait, that's right.. fyodor! maybe you could take his job again, in hopes to get progress through life being rough on the road.

you sat up from your bed, feeling a bit of back pain from lying for too long. you stood up and quickly grabbed a jacket and wearing it- there you took the route you were once familiar with. to the way to get to the man fyodor's place.

finally arriving to his place which was located in a forest, you walked up to the door and gathered the courage to knock. just knock y/n.. just like before, like you always did.. fyodor knows you right?

with a silent moment, you knocked 3 times. then a few seconds passed you overthinked that maybe he doesn't live here anymore. or maybe he wasn't hear- or maybe he just didn't want to answer the door-

the sound of the doorknob turned, you were startled but your body felt nervous for seeing a person you haven't seen for a while.

and there you met eyes again with the man, one and only- fyodor. he still looked the same as ever from the last time you saw him, he greeted you with a smile as he looked down at you.

"fyodor! i-"

you were cut off by fyodor's sudden offering of a small box with a ribbon wrapped on it.

"what's this..?" you asked.

"oh, open it so you can find out." fyodor replied.

you took the small box out of the palm of his hands, with one pull of the strand of the ribbon untied it. you opened the lid of the box.

a flash of horror and disgust was on your face, immediately recognizing what was inside.. it was the finger of your fiance.. the finger where he wore the matching rings he gave you when he proposed to you.

"what the fuck!" you dropped the box out of shock, you looked at fyodor with your legs feeling weak as they tremble- your breath started to shake. you felt stunned. paralyzed.

fyodor smiling at you, how did he get that in the first place..? you had so much questions running your mind, they continue and continue.. and continue till your nose was covered with a cloth.

your vision blurred, you felt your consciousness fading. what was happening? were you dying? you finally collapsed, being caught in fyodor's arms as he gazed at you the way he gazed you from the beginning.

fyodor's arms wrapped around your unconscious body, pulling you close to kiss your forehead. a smile of victory.

"you're mine.. all mine my little мышь"

[a-random-weeb]

Hii can I request chuuya, fyodor and ranpo waking up from a dream where their s/o cheated on them but when they wake up their s/o isn’t on the bed and they start panicking harder and turns out their just getting a drink of water

It's currently 2 am and this is unedited, so I apologize for any typos

----------------------------------------------------------

Chuuya:

•Poor boy panics

•Like- where did you go?!

•He tries to calm himself down, he really doesn't like you would cheat

•He tries find you in the house

•He's SO relieved when he finds you drinking water

•He comes up behind you and hugs your waist and kisses your neck, shaking slightly

•When you ask him whats wrong he just shakes his head, telling you it's nothing and hold you close in bed for the rest of the night

✎˖ᝰ✧˖°✎˖ᝰ✧˖°✎˖ᝰ✧˖°✎˖ᝰ✧˖°✎˖ᝰ✧˖°✎˖ᝰ✧˖°

Fyodor:

•He wakes up rather calm, he's almost sure you wouldn't cheat on him and it was just a silly dream

•But when he feels for you in bed, he feels confused

•He thought you were loyal, he feels a slight twinge of hatred, but keeps himself calm and tries not to jump to conclusions

•when you come back to bed he questions where you went

•He's relieved but not surprised when you say you went for water

*⋆｡ ﾟ｡+.⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆*⋆｡ ﾟ｡+.⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆*⋆｡ ﾟ｡+.⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ *

Ranpo:

•Immediately jumps to conclusions

•He could probably deduct where you were, but it's the middle of the night like come on-

•He probably just sits there crying like a 3 y/o til you come back

•He immediately questions you the second you enter the bedroom while clinging to your side

•you tell him you were getting water and NOW he deducts what you were doing after crying like a brat 🙄(safe to throw a book at him at point)

•He clings to your side the rest of the night and all the next day

[sinligh]

something stands between me and all the feelings I’m trying to dissect

maybe it’s melancholy made into flesh holding me down as a base to my wavering relationship with all that i am and all that i want.

an Imposter syndrome ?

maybe it’s all the goodbyes December held on a leash..

Impermanence scares us humans but so does stability

all the insecurities and self doubts wrapped around my neck with a gentleness that competes with a lover’s embrace.

As the weather gets colder I burn through thoughts and distant dreams abandoned prospect

incandescent potential burnt to ash underneath my skin

And as i do so, i can’t help but wonder:

If I left you my letters as an offering will you put them together for me ?

Form endless strings of words and attach them to anything you deem familiar In me?

Wrap me up in poetry?

Or will you burn it the way i did my dreams; to warm yourself up ?

Will you prosper?

“Love” is nothing but a fabricated fairytale Sung by desperate heartbeats who have been poisoned by forfeited hope

Is the cup half full or half empty? I'm not sure anymore..

But the content of that cup is all that's left of my share of happiness in this world

and I'm willing to share it with you...

Even if it left me groundless.

Lost in the terminology of love, And the ideology of death and self sabotage

While disillusionment feed on my lifeline.

would it be so wrong to let myself dissolve in a little love knowing it won’t last?

•••

• Quote: Sylvia plath/Mary Oliver/ Fyodor Dostoevsky/ Simone de Beauvoir/ Maya Angelou/ Marina Tsvetaeva/Anne Michaels

• Original context: Sinligh

• Art reference: 1. Art by Zhao Kailin. 2. Wounds of the Earth by xis.lanyx. 3. George Hitchcock, Calypso. 4.Art by Ivan Pokidyshev. 5. Monseigneur Love by Thomas Cooper Gotch

[literatureloverx]

How do you know fyodor so well? Have you personally met him? Lol!

Anyways, can you please make a scenario with fyodor x reader whose little daughter has became a tween/teen? So suddenly she's starting to act all grown-up, mature and stuff.. And sometimes she talks back to reader and fyodor (Not in a spoilt way but since she's growing up ofc she's gonna feel other emotions like anger and irritation) I would love to see fyodor's relationship with his teen daughter and how he would handle such situations..

I’m giggling 🤭🥰 Thank you so much! ♥️ I hope it’s to your liking. I’m not sure if this is exactly what you wanted from me, and it’s really hard to write Fyodor in such a role. I hope it satisfies you! ♥️

Fyodor x ideal type fem!reader, husband!Fyodor x daughter x wife!reader , teenage daughter

some tween problems

Your 12-year-old daughter slammed her door with a loud bang. You sighed, standing outside the closed door as your husband entered the room. He looked momentarily perplexed by your little angel’s sudden outburst; she was usually so calm and sweet, a perfect mix of his keen intellect and your compassion.

It was out of character for her, this smaller version of the two of you, to act like this. Fyodor observed that it was likely her age—transitioning into adolescence, a time of change. The realization tugged at his heart. Yet, ever the man of logic and strategy, he approached you, placing a steady hand on your back. His expression was soft but measured.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

You huffed, “She’s acting up again. This is the second time this week. I handled it last time, but I think I upset her.”

He caressed your back gently, his fingers tracing deliberate patterns. “I’ll speak to her,” he said after a moment. His tone was calm, not rushed—he already had a plan. “I believe I understand what’s troubling her.”

You glanced at him, uncertainty crossing your features. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push her too hard.”

“There is no rush,” he reassured you, his voice even. “But she needs guidance. I’ll make sure she sees things clearly.”

You nodded, but a sinking feeling settled in your chest. You felt like a failure.

What kind of mother couldn’t help her own daughter through such a simple thing as a mood swing? Was this normal? Did all mothers feel this way, unsure of how to support their child when she needed it most?

You wondered how your own mother had managed—how she had helped you navigate the emotional storms of growing up. She always seemed to have the answers, but now, standing here, you felt lost.

The doubts gnawed at you, making you question if you were really enough. Were you doing something wrong? Were you too soft, or maybe too hard on her? It was as though every decision you made was under a microscope, and nothing felt quite right.

Fyodor’s hand on your back brought you back to the present, grounding you. His steady presence was a reminder that you didn’t have to face this alone, but still, the weight of inadequacy lingered.

You hesitated but then nodded, watching as Fyodor knocked lightly on your daughter’s door and opened it. He stepped inside, his movements deliberate as always.

“May I come in?” he asked quietly.

“Whatever,” she muttered from behind her crossed arms, sitting stiffly on the edge of her bed.

He stepped closer, careful not to invade her space, yet his presence was commanding. “You seem upset,” he began, his voice measured, free of judgment.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Fine is often a mask for something deeper,” he said smoothly, sitting down beside her but maintaining distance. His tone was cool, but not cold, as he sought the source of her frustration.

“You’re overwhelmed.”

She scowled. “You wouldn’t get it. You’re…you’re always in control, dad.”

“Not always,” he responded calmly. “And even if I were, control doesn’t negate emotion or confusion. What you’re feeling is part of the process of growing up. It’s not about avoiding struggle—it’s about learning to manage it.”

She shot him a quick glance, the skepticism still there. “I feel like I’m failing. I can’t keep up with everyone’s expectations. I’m supposed to be smart like you, but I just… I can’t.”

Fyodor’s gaze softened, though his tone remained rational. “That pressure—most of it is created by you. Others see your potential, yes, but it’s you who holds yourself to impossible standards.”

He leaned forward slightly, his words deliberate.

“Intelligence is not the absence of struggle. It’s knowing how to approach and learn from that struggle. The more you face now, the more capable you will become.”

She frowned, absorbing his words but still feeling burdened. “But it’s too much sometimes.”

“There’s no shame in feeling that way,” he said smoothly. “Even I—your mother—everyone has moments of doubt. But those moments …are part of growing stronger,” Fyodor continued, his voice unwavering. “The key is not to avoid them, but to use them. Every challenge, every setback, is another opportunity to sharpen your mind, to understand yourself better.”

She looked up at him, her expression softening slightly, though the frustration still lingered in her eyes.

“But you’re always so calm about everything. I’m not like that. I feel like I can’t measure up, no matter how hard I try.”

“You’re not meant to be exactly like me,” he said, a trace of warmth in his usually composed tone.

“You are your own person, and you will find your own way to handle these moments. Comparing yourself to me—or anyone—will only burden you more. You are extraordinary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t struggle. It means you’ll learn from it faster and come out stronger.”

She fell silent for a moment, chewing on her lip, her thoughts visibly swirling. “But… what if I don’t? What if it’s too much, and I can’t keep up?”

Fyodor shifted slightly, leaning just enough to make his presence more reassuring but still leaving space for her to process.

“Then you adjust. Intelligence isn’t about never failing—it is about adapting, learning, and improving. You will stumble, yes. But that is not something to fear. Each misstep is a lesson, and you are more than capable of learning.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I just don’t want to disappoint you. Or Mom.”

His expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of tenderness in his eyes. “You won’t. Your mother and I don’t expect perfection. What we expect is for you to keep trying, to grow through your challenges. That’s all we ask. And that is enough.”

Her shoulders finally relaxed, though the weight of her worries hadn’t fully lifted. Fyodor noticed, understanding that these feelings wouldn’t be resolved in a single conversation, but knowing his words had planted a seed. The rest would take time. And he would ensure that his little princess reached her full potential in the end.

After a moment of silence, she mumbled, “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled, though it was small, subtle, a reflection of his reserved nature. “Of course.”

As he stood up, his hand gently reached for her head, caressing it softly, just as he had when she was a small toddler running through the halls after him. He glanced back at her one last time.

“Remember, you don’t have to figure everything out at once. Take your time. We’re here for you. And be mindful of your mother’s feelings,” he added calmly, his gaze sharp but affectionate.

“You know how much it matters to me that she isn’t troubled, don’t you, my little girl?”

She nodded, and with that, Fyodor quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. He returned to you, finding you still standing in the hallway, your brow furrowed with concern.

“How did it go?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“She’ll be fine,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “She’s special, just like you. But she is struggling, and that is normal. Don’t doubt yourself—you’ve been enough for her.”

You looked up at him, uncertainty lingering. “But what if I’m not? What if I don’t know how to help her?”

He cupped your cheek gently, his gaze steady. “You are more than enough. You’ve given her everything she needs to succeed. She just needs time to understand it herself.”

His words were firm, and you felt some of the weight lift from your shoulders. Fyodor wasn’t one to offer empty reassurance; he always spoke with purpose, with the confidence of someone who had carefully analyzed every angle.

“Trust her,” he continued. “And trust yourself. You’re doing more than you realize.”

[queer-n-here]

nothing to serious, no need to worry about me

you should write me some uhm some uhm uhm ( i didnt really prep a character for this sos ) some more fyodor because uhm

i like fyodor

and crushing an anemic man would really help rn so uhm

whenever is okay !!

-🦅

Hey, man, just take care of yourself, alr? I hope things gets better for you.

As for the fic ask, someone helped you out on that, look:

I am genuinely so sorry for how long this took, I think it's been almost a year now. I'm sorry to everyone who has been waiting. I hope y'all enjoy this one just as much as you've loved my previous works, even though it's been a while since I wrote anything.

Also, I have an announcement to make, read it here. This piece is my last.

Contents: Edging+Overstim with Fyodor, established relationship, Fyodor being a tease and then regretting it later.

Fyodor was waiting for you. It was the end of the day already, the sun had slipped past the horizon a while ago, leaving stars to shine it's wake, the moon not quite full yet.

Dinner had been nice and full, and now that it was time to head to bed, Fyodor wanted you.

When you returned from the kitchen, done with the dishes and ready to sleep, you found him lying on his stomach on your shared bed, wearing only one of your shirts. It was big on him, the round collar exposing a considerable amount of his pale shoulders. The hem of it reached just beneath the curve of his hip, showing off just enough to leave you wanting more of him at a single glance.

He knew what it would do to you, wanted it. So when he heard the door fall shut behind you, he turned to glance at you, his gaze sultry.

You smirked.

When you slipped into the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist, he didn't stop you. Neither did he do so when he felt your hand wander downwards, over the curve of his ass, to knead at the muscle. His breath hitched.

"Not in the mood to sleep early tonight?" You asked him, voice low and soft, the way it always was around him.

Fyodor shook his head.

"Hmm..." You leaned in and kissed him.

He let you turn him over onto his back so you could be on top of him, wrapping his arms around your neck as your mouth tasted his. You pushed your tongue in, and he didn't resist. He let your hands wander over him, the rough callouses against his skin making him shiver. You caressed his thighs, teeth nipping at his lips, and let your hand slip under the shirt of yours he was wearing, only to discover the absence of fabric.

You pulled away from the kiss to look at him.

He looked up at you, cheeks flushed, but eyes far from shy. What a tease.

"What's wrong?" He asked, challenging you to point out his mischeif.

"Nothing," Your eyes glinted. "Just surprised at how whorish my boyfriend can get."

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, your lips were on his again. You weren't so soft this time. You bit, hard, and he moaned into it, eyes screwed shut.

Your fingers traveled inward under the shirt, and soon they were against his semi-hard dick. You didn't pull away from his mouth, your hand wrapping around the length of the member as you began stroking.

Fyodor moaned again, louder this time, his back arching. He pulled away from your mouth, his gaze darting down to where your hand pleasing him, his breath now coming in short gasps. His hands fell from where they had been around your neck, to clutch at the fabric of the sheets beneath him.

"Hnngh!" He couldn't tear his eyes away from your hand. "[Name]!"

"Yeah?" You pressed a kiss against one of his eyelids, so gentle, so in love with this man writhing beneath you.

Fyodor couldn't respond because of your pace, which was brutal on him, very much unlike the rest of your demeanor. He could only throw his head back against the pillow, and moan your name again.

You pleased him till his hips were bucking, the pleasure making him lose all thought of anything else. It felt so good, so good that his eyes were rolling back to his head.

Your thumb stroked over the slit, and his eyes widened, moans growing louder. He was at your mercy, his life in your hands, and you could either give him the world or drain him of everything he was.

"Ah- shit! [Name], I'm gonna c-cum!" He managed to pant out, one of his hands rising to grip your bicep, as if that would hold him steadier than the bed beneath him.

All of a sudden, he felt your movements cease. Your warm hand pulled away from his dick, leaving his sensitive skin exposed to the cold air of the room. He whined in response, hips bucking up to seek friction, but failing.

He lifted his head to look at you, cross. "What happened?"

You smirked at him in return. "The night's only just started, hasn't it, baby?"

And then Fyodor gulped, because that look on your face meant only one thing.

And he had been very right. A little over an hour later, he was yet to climax.

You kept it from him. Every time his moans grew louder, eyes rolling back into his head as he panted, you would stop, slow down, and leave him reeling. He would whine, eyes brimming with tears as he sobbed. He would beg, his pleas falling on deaf ears, because when you would start moving again you would stop once more before he could reach the edge.

You were buried so deep inside of him he couldn't tell anymore where you ended and he began. His insides were already molded to the shape of your cock, the warm muscle clenching tight around you. Your back was already red with how much he'd scratched it since the beginning of the night; there was blood flowing from the skin, but neither of you paid it any mind.

And Fyodor? He was your masterpiece, a work of art.

His hair was a mess, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were wet with tears, and his cheeks were too. His lips had been bitten red and swollen by both you and him. His pale skin was littered with hickeys everywhere— his chest, neck, collarbone, thighs. You'd even nibbled at the inside of his ankle.

He shuddered underneath you as stroked his thighs, your thumb over one of the darker imprints your mouth had left.

"[Name]..." He sobbed, his voice a broken whine. "Please, please, I can't take this anymore."

"Really?" You leaned down, his legs still wrapped around your waist to keep you buried inside of him, and kissed his forehead.

He sniffled, nodding. "Can't take it no more, p-please..."

You almost cooed from how cute he looked.

You pressed another kiss against his mouth. "Wanna cum so bad?"

He nodded again, letting you gently wipe away his tears with both your hands.

"Use your words, m'love." You murmured.

"Yes," Fyodor managed. "I wanna c-cum so bad."

You began moving again, your hips rolling against his. His head fell back against the pillow for the nth time that night. You made sure to hit all the right spots with your tip, the places that left him with his pupils blown and brain fucked through.

Fyodor whimpered, his hands clenching returning to your back to pull you close, and you let him. He bit down on your neck, his thighs trembling even as he wrapped them tighter around you. The sound of skin slapping skin, paired with his little grunts of pleasure, echoed in the room.

The bed rocked with you as you moved, the feel of you inside him driving him crazy. His mind was a mess already from the edging, and now the pleasure of your dick in him was making him lose what little thoughts he had had left.

Tears were falling from his beautiful eyes again, his blunt nails were digging into your flesh. His teeth left your skin as one of the harder thrusts sent him falling back onto the bed, and his moans were muffled no more. They spurred you on, sending blood shooting straight to your dick, and Fyodor felt shivers run down his spine as he felt you grow bigger inside of him.

You fucked into him the way you knew he loved, pace just right, and your thrusts aimed at his sweet spots.

"Ah! [Name]! Hnngh, f-feels so good!"

"Yeah?" You panted, teeth gritted against the feeling of him clenched around you. "Feels good for me too, baby. So good."

Your praise sent him spiraling over the edge, and without warning, he came, his hips bucking as ropes of cum shot out of his dick, his eyes rolling all the way back to his head, his back arching off the bed.

Finally, finally, you'd let him cum.

But then he realized you weren't stopping. He began writhing, trying to pull away, but you continued slamming into him, hands wrapping around his waist to keep him in place.

"[Name], I-I just c-came!" He cried, trying to get away, but you held him fast. "Please-what are you-"

He cut himself off with a whimper as you abused his hole, his overstimulated body shuddering with each movement of your dick inside him.

"Isn't this what you wanted, love?" Your voice was gentle, but mocking, and Fyodor realized he had dug his own grave.

...It was going to be a long night, after all.

[w1nds0ul]

Have a little request :33. The DOA with a member who’s afraid of blood, I feel like it’d be interesting

Sure! Right below~ ( Little warning though, they might be a bit out of character..)

“ 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘭oo𝘥𝘺．𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰���’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶? ”

𝘋𝘰𝘈 [ 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘴 ] 𝘟 𝘎𝘕！𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥．

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ；𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴，𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶／𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳，𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧．

𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘔𝘚 ；𝘏𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢 － 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥.

Дорогой — Darling (Russian).

－ 𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘢

• When you two went on a mission together, he was pretty confused and concerned on the fact that everytime he shot someone and blood splattered on you or him or anywhere for that matter, you started to freak out.

• Of course, he managed to calm you down. But that didn’t explain why you panicked or what even caused you to feel that way. Was it the gun or the sound of the gun? Maybe it was you seeing a corpse? All of these questions echoed in his head, and he wanted (needed) them to be answered so he could help avoid the issue in the future. So he decides that this will be talked about as soon as you get home, and he WILL be focused on that topic whole day because he’s worried something might be wrong with you, and you’re too precious to lose.

• Once you tell him that you have hemophobia, and get bothered when you see blood, everything started to click. Even this didn’t seem like a big deal to you, it became one to him. After all, he wants you to enjoy yourself, even during missions.

• Sigma understood that blood can traumatize people and cause them to have a negative reaction to it and he was fine with it, but what worried him was that since you are a member of the Decay of Angels, the job can have a lot of bloody work and preventing you from being upset from the sight/thought of blood could or would be inevitable.

• To carry out with his plan, he does some extra research on the phobia particularly just so he can clearly understand it, as well as using his ability by touching you to find out if you have any more phobias. ( in case he hasn’t already use his ability on you. )

• Sigma tries to come up with something to help you do your job without any problems, ranging from him doing the bloody work and having you look away, or maybe you can work behind the scenes rather than being on foot and having to deal with killing people or watching people get killed. He even talks with Fyodor and Nikolai in which Fyo responds brutally, calling you unworthy of being a DoA member. On the other hand, Nikolai wants to try to help you on feeling comfortable. But since Nikolai is Nikolai, it’s a good chance he’ll also call you make fun of you and weak for being afraid of blood.

• Absolute sweetheart and supportive unlike the others in the group, even fascinated that hemophobia is even a type of phobia. If you want to tell Sigma why you have that phobia, he’ll listen closely and comfort you if you happen to cry while explaining the reason. Overall, Sigma deals with you very nicely with someone who has hemophobia.

Sigma leans against a wall, breathing heavily after fleeing a bloody scene from earlier. You didn’t know what had happened back there, but you did hear some screams and gunshots. Who would’ve thought that Sigma was deadly and cute. “ I hate missions like this. I'd rather be up working on the sky casino than this. ” He mumbles under his breath. You felt shakened up from before and he could tell, telling from your legs shivering. “ Is everything okay? I hope nothing scared you. ” A worried tone says to you. “ I’m fine. I didn’t see any blood or something but I’m just… shaken up from that. ” You replied.

“ Understood, I hope the method we chose eased your trigger. If you need anything, I’m at your call. ” Sigma fixed his posture and walked up to you, putting your hands in his. His eyes showed gentleness and warmth.

“ I talked with the other members, and they will try to fix a position for you to not be around blood. ”

－ 𝘍𝘺𝘰𝘥𝘰𝘳

• Fyodor probably either knew you had a phobia of blood, or just didn’t at all. Safe to say, he took the information and used it to his advantage.

• He listened to you explaining your hatred or fear for blood, beginning to laugh halfway through the explanation. You were confused on what was so funny, until he told you that you were weak as hell for that and you aren’t really worthy of being a Decay of angels member.

• Don’t get him wrong, he thinks you’re stronger than an average human/ability user. But blood? Yeah no, you’re going to see that anytime you go on a mission with him— And you always accompany him on missions, whether you like it or not.

• Thinks you need some training in learning how to deal with blood. This training is harsh, usually having you watch him take out a target with his ability, then ordering you to stay there and endure the sight of blood. His eyes watch your every move and expression as you begin to panic.

• Fyodor threatens to force you to watch him kill someone if you get out of line. As long as you follow his every order and not be a brat, you won’t have to go through anymore psychological trauma.

• But there are times where you bawl your eyes out from the sight of blood, and sometimes (rarely) Fyodor offers you to sit on his lap and calm down once you both are at home. Stroking a hand up and down your back, it’s a sugarcoated action and his voice an be sweet like honey. But since Fyodor is… what he is, this is to only make you come back for more and become obedient to him.

• If he unfortunately happens to be in a bad mood, and you also happen to be triggered, he won’t beat you psychically but will hurt you with his words, going on and on about how pathetic you look crying about something humans have daily and that some people have it worse.

• Though he ‘apologizes’ through touches right after though and will gaslight you. Saying that he didn’t mean it and that you’re such a snowflake.

• If it makes you feel any better though, Fyodor finally decided that your phobia is permanent and irreversible. Therefore he will no longer let you go to missions and might just have you stay home since you’re supposed to be a housewife/husband for him anyways. You’ll usually have Ivan watch you, and if you happen to accidentally see blood, he is quick to distract you and cover your eyes.

You sat in front of him, teared up and sobbing.“ Stop crying Дорогой, it was just a small injury. ” Fyodor spoke up with a smug look on his face, wrapping his hand in bandages. You were in a vulnerable state and he admired how you trusted him during a time like this, so he suppose he could help his precious angel. You try to stop the tears from forming and fall down your flushed cheeks and was successful. Once you calmed down, Fyodor sighed softly in a bit of irritation. “ I came up with a solution with your illness— ”

“ It isn’t an illness, Fyo. ” You corrected him. He obviously didn’t like that, and it was evident on his face. “ Don’t speak unless I tell you to. You know what happens when you’re a brat, yes? ” He warned. You cross your arms as a response. “ As I was saying. I came up with a solution. You will be staying with Ivan now and any mission there is where it doesn’t involve death, you will do. Understand? ” Fyodor asks. You nod.

“ I still don’t understand why a little bit of blood can invoke fear in one. You really are an odd one. ”

－ 𝘕𝘪𝘬𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘪

• When you first told Nikolai, he just asked an overwhelming amount of questions about it.

• Honestly really intrigued and proceeded to tell some phobias of his own. Even if this thing was about you only.

• He kinda wants to help but also wants to prank the hell out of you with it, which he usually does.

• Sometimes Nikolai would say that the mission you two are going on is a rather tame one, involving no blood. But once you two go on the mission and end up have some ‘ company ’, he smirks and asks “ things are going to get a bit bloody, you’re fine with that right? ”

• Not funny, didn’t laugh and he could tell you didn’t find that funny. Always apologizes if he does that even if he did it unintentionally.

• Comforts you if you just so happen to freak out or get sick when seeing blood. Loves seeing your pretty tears, even if your upset, sometimes it makes him want to reward you.

• tries to talk to fyodor to make you not go on too dangerous missions, because he thinks that if you fight with some thugs or whatever, you’ll see blood from a injury or corpse and freeze up, causing you to be killed by who ever you’re fighting. And since Fyodor and Nikolai are… friends… then Fyodor tell him to do whatever he thinks fit.

“ Oh how sensitive you are, doll. It’s adorable to me. ” Nikolai smirks as you cling on to him, a person Nikolai just killed laying in a puddle of their own blood. You didn’t feel too good seeing this and he could tell, therefore cupping your cheeks and having you look at him. “ Come on now, it’s just a corpse, breathe. ” Nikolai chuckled, before placing a kiss on your lips. That seemed to have calmed you down and he did it again, and again and once more.

“ You are just so desperate for my kisses, aren’t you? ”

I love how sigma is the only normal one out of the bunch…😭