melliemell

[melliemell]

hey guyss

sorry for not existing in quite some time, I'm alive all's good, just sorting out some stupid family things (which consists of me mostly being annoyed at people's irresponsibility while I fix shit up eh)

no worries, i'll be back. My ass knows how many fyodor fics and ideas I still have to work on. this was not a planned break but ops

I still don't know when i'll sort out my adult life stuff oh, but know i haven't forgotten about you guys!!

[melliemell]

Would Fyodor ever have qualms against a chubby reader? Thoughts? 😪😪

gosh i adore how literary every ask i have in here is fyodor related ❤️❤️❤️ one braincell gang eyyyy

Btw i've been pondering about fyodor's potential type/lover preferences as a whole and honestly I find @literatureloverx's take really interesting, so I def suggest you all give her a visit! she's insane when it comes to analysis things I'm not even joking, bless her т-т. Our opinions differ on some things but I am guilty of liking my men beneath me soo (sorry fyodor, can't run from that)

As to fyodor's preferences, I definitely see him more on the vain side. He's more of an appreciator of beauty and would not shy away from that fact. Perfections and all are kinda his past-time obsession (and full time)

But

There's the thing, i can never see canon fyodor going for any romantic options whatsoever. Not in the real sense at least. But he definitely strikes me as the type of person who'd find a way to exploit that part of human relations if it's going to be useful to him in some way. Unlikely to happen, but not beyond him.

So long as you're deemed useful, that would be the main reason for you being still alive. Or with him.

But it's still obvious as day that he's not a shallow person at the heart of it. He's a thinker, a bit too much for his own good (and humanity, he done fucked up there). If he does somehow miraculously find his heart somewhere under all those protective layers he flaunts about in, it's not gonna be thanks to looks, babes. His interest in dazai is proof enough of that.

He needs a mind beside him.

So i think that and one other detail to be the deciding factors.

Mind is all nice and good but the need to be in control of things is hard to deal with, so being vulnerable is gonna be a pain in the ass for both him and a potential partner. The only way I see this happening is if he actually has a partner he could trust. That doesn't happen with just brains.

Compassion and a kind heart at their core would definitely tip the scales. Good people don't want to manipulate others so fyodor'd be safe around such a person and not worry about where their loyalties lay. It will definitely be a hard battle to win but it'd be so worth it.

Gosh, he's such an interesting character even if he fucks up everything in the manga now. I adore him to bits

[melliemell]

IM NOT KIDDING WHEN I SAY THIS YOU ARE ACTUALLY ONE OF MY NEW FAVORITE WRITERS. The way you write Fyodor just.. makes so much sense to me. More often than not, I see a lot of people portray Fyodor as a cold brick wall to the point that it's so repetitive

Genuinely PLEASPLEAPDLWPALEPWLAPELWPALE Take care of yourself and write ANYTHING you want pls your brain is so scrumptious. blinks lovingly ❤️❤️❤️❤️‼️

blinks with affection right back at u ❤️❤️

fyodor has undoubtedly managed to crawl right into my silly little heart you've no idea how much I adore him. Your words are too kind, nonnie ahhh. And I completely agree about the coldness with which he's usually portrayed. Tbh... he is cold, yes, but there's layers.

i mean, look at this man-

yes, he's absolutely a beast when it comes to being in control of a situation, but he's also so damned sneaky about it too. So long as he wants to. (that's a whooole other topic, too long for now)

I've noticed more than once his tendency to give people exactly what they want all in order to have them play by his tune when he needs them. It's insane how good he is at reading people, so why bother using intimidation and force to get them on his side? It's so much easier to just manipulate them, sweet talk them into aligning their goals with his. He's such a soft-spoken character, it's a complete contrast to his actual behaviour and actions that it's almost hilarious.

That's why i like portraying him more in that light? As in completely willing to go along with anything so long as it leads to getting what he wants in the end. It's your fault if you don't notice that.

Service top fyodor tm to my grave in other words. He'd woo you without blinking an eye, almost frighteningly perfect in being your partner. It makes you wonder...

[melliemell]

Pairing: Chuuya x reader

Contents: NSFW, pool sex 101; sneaking into your neighbour's private pool while drunk definitely has its perks, reader will have those tiles imprinted in their back for days, my bad. Approx 1.5k words

Public pools might have been a step wiser. 

Or not. To be honest you weren’t all that concerned. They were Chuuya’s neighbours after all. Old, rich neighbours with basement pools and a pretty weak home security as it turned out. 

You could have rented a place–a nice and cosy jacuzzi. Maybe you should do that too sometime. But why do it now when this was undoubtedly at your quickest disposal?

The water was surprisingly warm against your naked skin. It gently reflected the dim purple lighting that came from… somewhere. You couldn't remember; Chuuya had taken care of that. 

The wine from earlier was still coursing under your skin. Your face was flushed and mind mushy as you relaxed against the tiles. All the while Chuuya’s body kept you afloat and close, so deliciously close to his.

His hair tickled your neck under the water, but his mouth–oh. His mouth trailed heated, open kisses down your jaw and throat. He was biting and licking his way around your naked body leisurely, savouring every bit of exposed skin.

Jacuzzis could wait, you had more pressing matters.

Damn. You couldn’t even swim. The thought amused you more than anything. Drunk and drowning didn’t sound like a good way to go. But that was silly. 

You weren’t going anywhere with the way Chuuya held you. 

He was like a furnace even now–his hands gripping you as they sent his warmth through your body. His tongue trailed strips of saliva that had your skin prickle. He was everything around you, and more. Gentle, slow, all-consuming of your senses.

Chuuya was so filled with life and passion that the man before you now almost felt foreign. It’s rare he hit the brakes and took his merry time like this. You could barely keep your hands off each other–normally.

Not now. Now it was… calm. Intimate in a quiet type of way, but no less intense. 

You wrapped your thighs around Chuuya, drawing his attention as he looked up at you. 

“Hey,” you said, the word feeling silly on your tongue.

Chuuya cocked his head, flashing you his trademark grin. “Hey, you,” he said, and he drew you neared against the tiles. Chest to chest, you felt his already hard cock brush against your thigh. 

“Oh.” You blinked. Yeah, pool sex was definitely on the plate for tonight. “This is nice. I kind of feel like melting though.”

Chuuya cupped your cheek, brushed the hair sticking to your face. “Yeah? You look the part too, doll. You need a fan or something? Am I too much for ya?” And he wiggled his brows like he was actually funny. What a loser.

It was no joke. He was too much. 

Always. 

There was too much adoration in Chuuya’s gaze, too much teasing at times, too much love as he crawled right under your skin the harder you fell for him. Wine made you sentimental like that, and it wasn’t helping you much this time either.

“Mhm… don’t ever stop being too much,” you whispered the words. There, sincere and simple. “I think I’ve gone addicted to it.” You were aware of all of him. Every touch of skin between you. The way Chuuya stilled for a second, muscles unmoving before he sagged right into your embrace. 

He sought your lips, stealing your breath and thoughts right away with it. He always managed to coax your reservations away, letting him in easily as your kiss deepened. 

“Don’t go all mushy on me like that. You’ve no idea what you do to me,” Chuuya said between kisses. 

But you knew. You felt it as your hand travelled down to wrap around his cock. Your fingers brushed over his tip and Chuuya hissed. He didn’t move besides leaning his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your parted lips. 

“I can do a lot more to you.” You guided him to your entrance. You’ve been wet and ready long enough now. It was Chuuya’s teasing that got you like this, it would only be fair to return the favour. Albeit with a bit more.

“Fuck.” Chuuya bucked his hips, breathing deep as you shuddered against him. “ I can be just as good for ya, baby. Let me be good for ya, yeah? Come on, come on–” he moved again, brushing his tip against your pussy lips. 

Chuuya’s patience was a skill he implemented rarely. This was definitely not one of those times. Not with the way he kissed you again, desperate and wanting.

He loved it when you desired him; the way you sought his touch, his attention. He wanted you to want him. And he was going to give his all when you finally caved.

Chuuya entered you slowly, the sensation of his pulsing cock stretching you made you clutch around him even harder. It was maddening and your impatience was showing its ugly head too.

“Chuuya.” You gripped his hips with your thighs. You hoped he sensed your desperation.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, smiling at your moan as he gripped your ass, spreading you wider as he sunk fully into your heat. 

Chuuya didn’t give you time to formulate another thought. Any thought, really, as he started fucking into you. Your chest felt tight and your legs trembled as you welcomed him in. Chuuya kept you in place, hands firm around you as he pushed your back into the tiles with every hard thrust. If a man could be both gentle and absolutely wrecking your world in two–it was no other than Chuuya. He was more than ready and willing to do the job and leave you gasping from his every move. 

You were distantly aware of the sound of ripples, the water around just as restless. You were too busy gripping onto Chuuya’s shoulders, your lips on his ear as your whispered string of oh fuck fuck fuck– more, oh godd yes more, Chuuya– spilt forth and right into his brain as he delivered on your demands. 

Chuuya’s hand was on your clit in seconds, working fast as his swift fingers sent your body in shock from the waves of pleasure that travelled down your abdomen. 

“Fuck–” you gasped, bringing his face towards you. Chuuya’s eyes were on you, soaking in your every detail. He was so beautiful then. “I want you,” you whispered, the desire for him overwhelming.

Chuuya’s gaze fell on your lips. He ground his hips, aiming for that sweet spot of yours again again again. You nearly lost it then and there. “You turn demanding when you’re like this, angel. I’m right here.” He captured your lips, swallowing your moan. “Right here, babygirl.”

“I want you more,“ you said, and then laughed. You have no idea what that meant, but it felt right. You wanted more. All. 

Chuuya wasn’t too much. He was not enough. 

You didn’t give him a chance to answer. His mouth was yours to take, his lips parting instantly to let you in. Your hips moved with his, the water spilling around you like crazy. You didn’t care; you wanted him. 

And you came like that, gripping onto Chuuya like your life depended on it, his bruised lips still moving against yours as you stifled his needy grunts in turn. You felt yourself tighten as your pleasure spilt, drawing a groan from Chuuya as his thrusts became sloppy. He buried his face in your neck, biting hard as the seconds went by before he was finishing inside you, shuddering from the shock of it. 

You sagged against him a moment later, as though you were the more exhausted one. Maybe you were; Chuuya wasn’t one to spend his energy so quickly. He’d probably go for a second round if you asked it of him.

But now… your gaze lingered on the purple flicks of light dancing around you. The water calmed down as both of you stood still in each other’s embrace. The seconds went by.

Finally, Chuuya raised his head. “What’s your opinion on water beds?”

You snorted. “We buying that now?” you brushed his hair back. “Why not just a pool?”

You joked but for a moment Chuuya went quiet. He was considering it. You blinked at him in disbelief before laugher bubbled out of your chest. Chuuya looked at you then, brow raised.

“Hah? What’s so amusing, you punk?” he said. “Take it more seriously. I’m a sold man on the idea.” And he flapped his hand, sending specks of water all around you.

It took you another moment to collect yourself again. “Sure, sure,” you sighed, smiling stupidly at your silly, absurd, perfect man. “You might be onto something, we’ll see.” You tried to hide your excitement as Chuuya levelled you suspiciously. “I… might need some more convincing though.”

A bit of silence followed by Chuuya’s hands falling on your hips again. “Is that a challenge? I’m very convincing, you know.” He grinned before capturing your lips again.

You sighed against him, melting right into Chuuya’s embrace yet again. 

He might be too much to handle sometimes, but you had a knack for those things. You had the experience and practice after all.

[melliemell]

Source: This

[melliemell]

Dazai in yoga???¿¿¿¿

now these are all old sketches, and since I'm not familiar with the tumblr backrooms, the algorithm some might call it, I'm just gonna post old shit i have from him and hope for the best

[melliemell]

the sudden urge to justify the possibility of fyodor being an omega in an omegaverse fic has gripped me

like, he could literary be perfect for it come onn; the sweet and oh-so-fake smiles? the lack of a domineering demeanour, instead being very agreeable when convincing people to work for him? he's so omega coded for this. besides, he'd hate attracting attention or showing off in any way. subtle manipulation is way more down his alley and omega would pass right in. no one would suspect his anterior motives too

or i might be losing it here cuz I really want some sub fyodor core 😩

[melliemell]

Dazoo doodle

God, from thanksgiving to new years, I’ve been so busy and ill motivated. New year, imma try and kick into doing more art. 2025 will be my art year, just you wait gang

[melliemell]

[melliemell]

Nobody... and Everybody

Pairing: Sigma x f!reader

Content Guidance: mild NSFW. Sigma has an existential crisis which leads to kissing and dryhumping. emotional hurt/comfort. Very soft. Approx 1.7k words.

There was always work to be done at the Sky Casino. Guests could always be happier, facilities could always be improved. Dishes washed, laundry folded, glasses refilled, guestrooms made slightly more special with elaborate little touches like washcloth origami. Even the most capable manager could find themselves drowning in it. And he did.

And that’s why Sigma needed you, his trusted assistant. But deep down you knew the burden of it all still weighed heavy on his shoulders. 

You walked into his office to find him sitting at his desk, his face forlornly hidden in his hands. The moment he heard you his head shot up. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice sounding closer to breaking than you had ever heard it. 

“No,” you assured him, setting a cold bottle of water on a coaster in front of him, and a plate of cookies beside it. “Everything’s running smoothly and our team is keeping the place shipshape. But you haven’t eaten since… I don’t even know when.”

He stared at the space above your shoulder for a moment, his sunset-hued eyes blinking rapidly. “I haven’t? No… I haven’t, have I?”

You were the only person he permitted himself to show even the slightest vulnerability in front of. Kind to his customers, reassuringly authoritative with his subordinates, Sigma constantly appeared in control. But it was a façade. The signs were obvious to anyone who spent as much time with him as you; behind the commanding veneer, he was crumbling.

“Sigma, is something on your mind?” you asked, half expecting him to brush off the question.

“Am I a useless person?” he asked, his voice so quiet and timid you couldn’t believe it came from him. 

“What? Sigma, no. No, not at all.”

“You could run this casino without me just fine. I have no friends, no family, no… anything beyond my work, and every time I think I’m in control, every time I feel as though I have some semblance of who I am, it slips through my fingers like… like sand.” He put his hands on his head, burying his fingers in his lilac and silver hair. “What use am I? I'm nobody.”

“You’re important, Sigma.”

“As what?”

“As you. That’s all you need to be.” You walked around to his side of the desk, bracing your hands on his shoulders and crouching slightly to look him in the eyes. “And after all this time working together, you should know that I consider you much more than just my boss. You’re a friend too. And I couldn't do any of this without you. I need you.”

His eyes widened, his lips parting as he stared back at you. 

It was as if your words had kicked out the last support holding up the precarious, cobbled together shambles of his life. He collapsed entirely, face pressed to your stomach, tears soaking through your shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled after several minutes of sobbing, his words slurred by the thickness in his throat. “I’m acting disgracefully. You must think I’m a complete idiot.”

“No.” You patted the top of his head, needing to give him some kind of affection but not knowing where the boundary lay. “I think you’re a very tired and very sweet man who hasn’t eaten or drank anything all day. And I think you need to do that and then we’ll get you to your room and you can sleep. Okay?”

He nodded in agreement, releasing his hold on you to slowly and almost mournfully drink the water and nibble on the cookies you brought. “They’re good.”

“Good. Do you want something more filling?”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment before he shook his head. 

“Okay,” you said, trusting that he knew his body better than you did. 

When there was nothing on the plate but crumbs he let you steer him toward his room, your arm around his waist, his across your shoulders. His room was beautiful and seldom used, two of the four sides had floor to ceiling windows which gave him a heavenly view of the clouds. He shrugged off his coat and let it fall to a heap on the floor, and then flopped onto his bed, one arm draped over the edge, the other providing shelter for his eyes. 

“I’m embarrassed that I’m allowing you to see me in this state.”

“Don’t be,” you said, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed and pulling off his shoes. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You’re here to help run the casino, not babysit me.”

“I don’t mean professionally. I mean as someone who cares about you.”

You left him with that thought as you headed to his en suite and soaked a washcloth in cool water. He was on his back when you returned to the bedroom and sat beside him, gently cleaning away the tear tracks from his cheeks and cooling him off. With a soft sigh, Sigma closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Don't stop…” he said when you took away the cloth for a second, his voice quiet but urgent. “Please… I'll give you a raise. Just keep doing that for a little longer.”

He already paid you more money than you could ever spend but you continued anyway. Not for the promise of riches, but for the soft smile on his lips, the way the tension just melted from him with every cool caress. It brought to mind something you'd seen online once about using a toothbrush to pet your cat because it reminded them of their mother's affection.

“You're so–” he began, stopping himself as though he was worried he'd said something which could make you uncomfortable. 

But he hadn't, not at all. 

You simply smiled and let your thumb caress the curve of his cheek. “You're so too.”

His lips immediately pulled into a grin, which quickly evolved into a soft, breathless burst of laughter. And for a moment, he didn’t look tired or stressed out by anything. He looked peaceful, boyish, and content. “You’re sweet to me. You’re always so kind.”

He raised his hand to mirror your gesture, his palm smooth and cool against your cheek, causing your heart to squeeze. It was such a sweet gesture, so intimate it was impossible not to fall even deeper for him. His eyes danced over your features, hues of pink and peach gazing up at you, as soft and gentle as the rosy sky beyond the windows.

“Are you going to sleep?” you asked.

He pulled in a slow breath, a quiet chuckle emerging from his lips. “I’m not sure I’m tired any more.”

And then he raised his head, the hand on your cheek slipping back into your hair, easing you down toward his lips. There was a moment of hesitation, a heavy pause as he summoned the courage to ask permission, cut short by the unspoken answer of your lips on his.

A thrill of pleasure ran through you at the sensation of his kiss; eager, sudden, clumsy, as though he was discovering kisses for the first time. And god, it was addictive. Your world filled to the brim with him; the feeling of his lips seeking yours, the rush of breath, hot and hard from his nose as if he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking away from you, not even for air. He moaned into your mouth, elegant fingers sliding down the nape of your neck, traversing the length of your spine and settling on the small of your back, urging you down, silently pleading with you to press yourself against him.

Every kiss cemented his humanity, assured him he was infinitely more than mediocre. Closer, closer, seeking a connection, a bond; Sigma’s brow raised and he released a broken groan as you lay beside him in his bed, your body flush with his, your hand caressing the curve of his thigh, gently pulling it between your own. And the delicious weight of it against your core, the way his kiss deepened, his tongue caressing, exploring, his hips rocking against yours, the air between you filled with muffled moans and staggered breaths. Hot, heavy, uncoordinated, human.

“Sigma…” you whispered against his lips, as the heat between your legs pulsed for him. 

“Hoh… fuck…” he gasped, rutting against you, vulgarity tumbling from his pretty lips with deceptive ease. “Please… Keep going…”

Needy, incessant, drunk on you. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, tugging down your bra to cup your breast, your nipple pinched between his fingers as he kneaded your soft flesh. 

And with that he tensed, muscles contracting before he shivered through his orgasm, hands clenched almost painfully, lips crushed against yours, moaning, gasping, kissing you as though he needed that sensation more than air. “Nngh– ha— ha–!” Such a beautiful, desperate, broken sound, followed immediately by another whispered plea. “Ohh, I want you to cum… please… please cum for me.”

The need in his voice was almost enough to tip you over the edge. He didn’t just desire your pleasure; it was as vital to him as his own. He kissed you again and again, letting you ride his thigh. Higher and higher until you broke too, convulsing with pleasure as he swallowed down your moans and buried his fingers in your hair.

And then he laughed. 

Breathless, teary-eyed, he broke into laughter, words failing to convey everything he felt. His kisses were softer but no less profuse. “God, thank you.”

Your forehead pressed to his, your bodies still close, you closed your eyes and basked in the warmth and ease of the afterglow as Sigma’s hands mapped the contours of your frame.

“I don’t care if you have to fire me,” you said. “That was worth it.”

He chuckled, his lips pressing softly to your brow. “I couldn’t fire you, but don’t know what to call you anymore. You’re certainly not just my assistant. You’re infinitely more than someone who simply works for me.”

When you opened your eyes, his were soft, gazing at you with the gentlest smile playing across his lips. “So… your girlfriend?”

“Well, yes, I suppose something like that. But more. Far more. You’re… everything to me.”

“You are to me too.” His face was warm beneath your hands as you caressed his cheek. “You’ve always been so important to me.”

The moment the words left your mouth his arms wound around you, pulling you close to him, his lips buried against your crown. “Thank you,” he whispered, holding you with the desperation of a man who had never before felt important to anyone in his life. 

[melliemell]

Sigma Masterlist

Utterly enamoured with you - NSFW

Fighting the urge (Sex Pollen fic) - NSFW

NSFW Headcanons

[melliemell]

Pairing: Sigma x reader

Contents: NSFW, morning sex, penetration (reader receiving), fluff, Sigma is happy to have someone to call his own and he's gonna do his damn best to please them, we need more sappy enamoured men, Approx 1.1k words

Twenty minutes.

It’s been twenty minutes since Sigma woke up. Your sleeping form was sprawled atop his overheated body like a heavy blanket. Sigma doubted anything could wake you up now, but he still refused to move even an inch. Not when you looked so peaceful, so content. 

With him.

He’d be embarrassed to admit how long he stared at you; engraving your features into his mind. But that’s what lovers did, didn’t they? They adored their partners, their every detail; from the curve of your nose to the way you huddled closer to him whenever you moved. The feel of your breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine–he’d never think something so… small could get such a reaction from him. And yet…

And he could feel your chest moving against his too, completely at ease in his embrace. Like you trusted him to be this vulnerable.

He’d sooner die than give this up. Having someone. Like this. You were the most beautiful thing in his life and moments like those only made him all the more appreciative of you.

When you finally did wake up, groggy eyes looking up at him, a gentle smile grazing your lips a moment later–Sigma’s heart sped up. He was melting right there and then, your gaze the sole culprit behind his state.

Sigma never expected to be this enamoured, the need to have you close almost frighteningly overwhelming. 

“What ya thinkin’ about?” you asked, stifling a yawn against Sigma’s chest. 

Adorable.

Sigma smiled. Your hair looked a mess; he loved it. “Just you.”

You hummed, resting your chin on folded hands atop Sigma’s chest. “Creepy.”

Sigma blinked. “I’m not creepy. Why would that be creepy?” He hesitated. He wasn’t… was he? 

Of course not, that’s absurd.

You observed him before you snorted. This pushed away Sigma’s doubts as he levelled you with an unimpressed look. 

“Aw, come on. You can be the creepiest creepy-o and I’d still go for you, don’t worry,” you said, more amused than taking him seriously.

You were always like that–carefree to the brim. It was almost maddening at times, but it also managed to get Sigma more… at ease. Rigid was a good way to describe his life before meeting you. Always perfectly planned, the need for control so overwhelming it almost brought him to sickness at times. 

But now…

Now he could melt into your embrace with ease. You’ve taught him how to go with the flow of life, to experience it when the opportunities arise. 

And to kiss your lips when they waited for him, ready and right there. To let himself fall deeper into your warmth as you engulfed him fully. Your scent, your touch, your taste. Sigma was a lucky man. Even luckier as you held onto his shoulders, coaxing him to take the lead as you pulled him atop you. Sigma nestled perfectly between your spread thighs, his cock already aching for you.

The friction of clothes felt divine, Sigma’s mind foggy as his senses sharpened to your every touch. Every move against him.

You had him in your grasp so easily; you needed only look at him once and he was done for. You needn’t even ask–his ability was skilful enough to read through your desires.

But then you pulled at his hair, coaxed him higher as your other hand worked his pants loose. Sigma’s brain froze even as he kissed you deeper. Your smile felt sharp against his lips.

“Since when are we morning people?” you breathed at last, and Sigma’s head fell on your shoulder witha groan as you wrapped your hand around his cock. 

You stroked him once, twice. Almost teasing him with your slow movements. Sigma swallowed hard. “I can be your morning person. Definitely.”

He moved his hips as he sought more. You could only comply, swallowing his grunts of pleasure as your hand worked him steadily.

Sigma tried to not be impatient, he really did. You’d get him off just fine like this. Hell, he only needed your lips on his and he’d get the job done all the same. And then take care of you.

But that wasn’t the plan, no. Not when you had your clothes discarded swiftly. Then you wrapped your thighs around his hips, pussy wet and waiting for him. You locked gazes.

Sigma was a man gone by that point.

He sunk in you slowly, blinking away the fog of pleasure that threatened to cloud his better judgment. He really wanted to fuck into you right there and then. No, not like that. He looked at your face again. Seeking you. 

You cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheek with affection. You smiled then, clenching on purpose around him. 

A low groan slipped past Sigma’s lips, the sound strained. “Stop that. Just, please. I need a moment.”

You brushed his locks over his shoulder. “Sorry, I’ll behave,” you said, winking. But your chest was flushed, the pink dusting reaching your neck and cheeks too. You were just as affected as him. 

If not more.

Sigma took a deep breath, and moved. The slap of skin against skin echoed around you soon after, heated kisses shared between you as saliva trailed down your chin. But you didn’t care; you were too busy clutching onto Sigma’s shoulders, your nails sure to leave marks into his skin.

He didn’t feel any of it. Only your warmth, the tightness of your pussy as he bottomed out with every thrust until he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

His movement became sloppy, fast, hard. Sigma was holding you so close he worried for a second if you could even breath. But you were just as latched onto him, your moans stifled against his shoulder as you bit into it. He wanted you so bad, it wasn’t enough.

He held you in place, eyes closed as he focused on you. The way you unravelled before him, losing yourself in your pleasure–all because of him. 

His. You were his and he was going to do everything you asked him to, you just had to wish it.

Your orgasm was beautiful–head thrown back as you bit into your lower lip til bruising. Your thighs trembled, pussy fluttering around his cock as it spurred him closer too. Sigma didn’t hold out long, letting himself finish with a few final thrusts into your heat. He could barely stay up, the strain catching onto him completely unexpectedly.

Moving anytime soon was completely out of the question. But you were there, pulling him back against you as you hugged–still sweaty and fucked out as you could get. 

Warm. Sigma felt your hands thread through his locks, and he sighed. He could get used to being content like this.

[melliemell]

Today's Sigma is: getting overwhelmed with all of the BSD content 😣

[melliemell]

ᡣ𐭩 SNEAKIN' A PIC (ATTEMPT: FAILED)!

FEATURING: fyodor dostoevsky

SUMMARY: you never get to see him like this. is it really so awful that you want to capture the moment eternally? evidently to him, it is. (wordcount: 1.4k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'll never not make fun of that one panel of him sitting at his computers with his greasy ass hair even if he does look like a pretty princess in every other panel he has. my obsession with naps is being translated into my fics, i already posted a nikolai one posted and also have a dazai one in the drafts HAHA

When you wake up, you feel a weight on your bicep. Your brows furrow a bit in confusion, glancing to your right to where your arm is extended across the bed, but then your eyes fall upon Fyodor, fast asleep and using your arm as a pillow, and you can barely stop the small smile that rises to your lips.

Your arm is numb, but you don’t dare move in fear of waking him up—the clock on your nightstand reads nearly eight am, and you wonder when he finally came to bed last night. You know that he’s been pushing himself day and night to finalize the last parts of his plans, denying himself both sleep and food as he sits at his computers dealing with meetings and preparations 24/7. 

He hadn’t even changed into a pair of pajamas before falling into bed with you, nor had he bothered to get beneath the covers. a part of you wonders if he even meant to sleep, or if he’d just pushed his body too far and only barely made it to the bed before it gave out on him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You bite back a sigh as your gaze traces over the stubborn man—he always looks delicate in his sleep, in a way that he never does when he’s awake with his eyes shut and his long, dark lashes brushing his cheeks. His expression is the picture of serenity rather than the cold and unapproachable face he wears when he’s awake. 

You think that he’s pretty all the time, but there’s something special about being able to witness Fyodor Dostoevsky in his most vulnerable moments, knowing that you’re the only one he allows to be with him in them. 

You’re half-tempted to reach over to your nightstand with your free hand to try to grab your phone and snap a picture of him. You look over, wondering if you can reach it without jostling your other arm around, but before you can even consider your chances, you hear: “Do not.”

Fyodor’s voice is still thick with sleep. you glance over at him, surprised, but his eyes are still shut, and he hasn’t budged an inch. You wonder if you imagined it, but then his eyes crack open, thin slivers of purple glaring at you.

“Just one for me?” you ask quietly. “No one else will see.”

“No.”

You pout softly but roll back to look at him. He still looks exhausted, the bags beneath his eyes are dark and heavy, and he can barely even hold his eyes open. You reach out, cupping his cheek gently and watching as his eyes slide back shut, a soft exhale spilling from his lips as he lets the side of his face sink back into your arm, dozing back off.

You smile lightly, shifting forward a bit to press your lips to his forehead, stroking his cheek lightly with your thumb.

“I need to get up,” he murmurs, but his eyes are still shut and his voice is thick with sleep. “I need to finish-“

“You will not finish anything adequately in this state,” you chide gently. “If you get proper sleep, you’ll be much more efficient and effective.”

Fyodor looks as if he wants to argue, brows furrowing at your words even with his eyes shut. You only jostle him a bit closer, watching as he shoots you an irate look, but then settles down when he realizes you’re only dragging him closer so that he can rest his head on your chest—a place far more comfortable than your arm.

“Wake me up in an hour,” he finally orders, and you agree absently, knowing that you absolutely will not.

You think, as Fyodor lets himself doze off on your chest, that it’s hard to remember he’s quite literally one of the most dangerous men on this planet. That if he so pleased, he could activate his ability and kill you without a moment’s warning. That he’s a man who is so terrifyingly intelligent that it sometimes comes across as prophetic, and you can’t help but wonder if he speaks the truth when he claims to be led by the Hand of God. 

Your hand smoothes across his back in steady circles, tilting your face down to press your lips to the top of his head. His hair is a bit oily, as he usually lets it get when he deprives himself of basic necessities while he works. You’ll have to convince him to take a bath with you when he wakes up, but you figure it’ll be a battle because you already convinced him to sleep in a little longer, he’ll not want to waste any more time. 

You almost want to pinch him, wondering why everything with him has to be a war when it comes to taking proper care of himself. He rarely even remembers to take his iron supplements on the daily without your prompting, and he knows if he doesn’t take them, he’ll be prone to dizziness and fatigue. For all of his intelligence, you feel like sometimes that you’re a mother dealing with a stubborn child, not your lover. 

“Stop that,” Fyodor sighs, shifting a bit to get comfortable. “Dim your thoughts, dusha moya. I can feel you getting yourself wound up.”

You scowl. “You know, Fedya, maybe you should just drop the whole terrorist plot and become one of those preachers on the radio who pretend to be prophets. Build yourself a cult, make some money. You already seem to know everything, wouldn't be too hard."

Fyodor tilts his head up to look at you, expression so deadpan and unamused that it nearly makes you snort, but you only dip your head down to kiss between his eyes.

"Sleep,” you say, voice softer. “You need it.”

Fyodor doesn’t respond, and when you tilt your head to the side to look at him again, you find that he already dozed back off again, shoulders rising and falling steadily underneath the arm you have wrapped around him. 

You smile lightly and you tighten your arms a bit as Fyodor lets out a puff of air in his sleep, turning his head to lay the side of his face on your chest. In this position, you can see the way his eyes flit beneath his eyelids rapidly, his brain still running rampant even in sleep.

You bring your fingers to his hair to card them through the dark locks, slow and soothing in the way you know he likes, watching as his eye movements slow and his body relaxes into yours. 

Your smile widens a bit before it abruptly falls, laying your head back against the pillow as you finally begin your next challenge: drawing out a battle plan for convincing Fyodor to take a bath with you when he wakes up. 

You sigh to yourself heavily, knowing well that you're about to be facing the most difficult argument of your life with the most stubborn man alive. You can already feel the headache, and you think that you deserve a new picture for your lock screen from how much trouble Fyodor gives you on the daily, but as you side eye your nightstand again and try to calculate whether or not you can reach your phone without waking him up, you feel fingers wrap around your free hand.

You gape in disbelief as you look down to see Fyodor grab your hand in his sleep, as if he knew what you were planning even when not conscious.

Unbelievable, you think bitterly, plan entirely thwarted, but your gaze softens at the sight of him fast asleep on your chest, clutching your hand with one of his.

Maybe you don't need a picture, you realize, because you think there's no way you'd ever allow this image to fade away from your mind.

Still, you think he should severely reconsider his line of work.

Even more so now, in fact, because there is something entirely abnormal about his seemingly perfect foresight, evidently flawless even in his sleep too.

[melliemell]

in your most recent work i literally can’t even tell who’s more attractive, fyodor or reader both got me like 😩😩

awww, I think I have a thing for dangerous characters too so I absolutely get what you mean, nonnie. they can look like the most pathetic wet rat imaginable but if the aura is there, all flies out the window I swear I have no control over it

[melliemell]

AAA OK, requesting Fyodor x his Mexican girlfriend, and how'd he'd spoil her, treating her like a princess. Mixing that with his Russian culture, And sharing cultural traditions/behavior and food,

I hope you like it! this was a wild ride of figuring out fyodor's character better

Fyodor Spoiling his Lover HC

The thing is… Fyodor’s emotions are a heavily guarded thing. He’s very unlikely to let his guard down enough to actually feel romantic emotions, instead opting for control of the situation to the smallest detail.

Man’s obsessed with predictability. Emotions are certainly anything but that.

Having said that, if Fyodor finds you of any convenience for his plans, well, he is completely willing to play the role of a loving partner far beyond your expectations.

Get prepared for chaos unleashed, babe.

Fyodor’s sense of normal human behaviour has long been discarded somewhere in between the centuries of his long life. And he does have a flare for the dramatic at times, so you’ll have to excuse him if he considers buying out an entire restaurant for your night out to be within reasonable etiquette. 

“A quiet, peaceful place to spend time with you is very dear to me, although I do apologize if it’s a bit over the top,” he’d say, smile in place as he regarded you with no true remorse whatsoever. Maybe a bouquet of flowers would win you over; he’d try to be more reasonable with that… this time.

And let’s never forget that statement from Asagiri that Fyodor’s the type to buy an entire country for his sweetheart. He’s generous like that. 

Fyodor’s quite traditional in his courting as well. He’s aware that it’s expected of the man in the relationship to take care of his partner; all the way from providing for them to ensuring protection (and he does have to be mindful of that, knowing how many people want him dead in particular). 

Fyodor’s a man of constant planning and action so staying in one place is rarely ideal. And keeping someone satisfied when you can’t be around them often enough brings about a challenge. So in comes his quite mindful gift-giving.

You see, he’s gotten very good at observing people to the point it’s barely any effort to understand their inner workings and desires. The moment he has you pinned down as an individual–he’d do and say exactly what you want of him just so he can have you wrapped nicely around his finger as you fall harder for him. 

Fyodor’d be perfect… until the moment you’ve run out of use for him. The mask would fall very quickly and with no remorse behind it. 

Unless…

Here’s the deal–Fyodor is a very tough nut to crack. Sorting through all the layers of deception and perfectly built walls of indifference will be one of the hardest things to pull off. 

But the man under all that would be so worth it. The loneliness that’s bound to reside within him would be the saddest thing to finally lay your eyes upon.

It’s likely you’ll barely even notice you’ve managed to get him smitten.

He won’t indicate in any way something has changed at first, being his normal self and keeping up the princess treatment as a safety measure.

But he’ll find himself coming up with more and more plans for getting you to move around with him. There will be notes of a possessive streak there, like trying to keep your favourite toy with you everywhere; that’s definitely what Fyodor’d be telling himself at least.

He’ll be quite unsure why he’d feel the need to call you sweet things in his mother tongue. It is certainly a romantic gesture, yes, but it had never crossed his mind before? But the sound of it now felt pleasant to his ears and seeing your confused but still smiling face every time brought an unexpected warmth to his chest. He’d hold onto it for hours, staring off at the ceiling instead of his computers. Just… thinking. 

Like opening a door to his inner world; the things that brought him some sense of familiar comfort. 

It won’t be long before he has you in the kitchen, trying his best to at least make you remember maybe one of his soup recipes from home. Extremely patient about the whole process, not really caring if it ends up botchered. So long as he keeps getting that same feeling of warmth inside.

Won’t even bat an eye if you tell him you miss home. Would find a way to readjust both of your schedules (you have the exact same one at this point, he’s not even ashamed) so you’d be flying back in no time. Rest is good for the mind after all.

Be warned–this man is not built for warm weather. Fyodor’s one afternoon walk away from a literal heat stroke. Mindfulness is cautioned.

Mexico has not been one of his typical destinations, but he’d be quite appreciative of the openness of the people there. 

Will absolutely not leave you out of his sight though, no matter what. Unfamiliar places are best left explored with caution, even if you reassure him you’d probably not have any problems here. He’d only nod understandingly, completely intending on doing as he planned either way.

Man’s stubborn, can’t change that.

So long as you went unaware of a few things here and there–all was going to be good. He’d sooner blow an entire nation up than let anything happen to you.

[melliemell]

Presenting the dramatically late couple to @chuuminn's lovely NYE party tat-ta-daahh!!

I apologize for the tardiness but Fyodor's outfit for the night was quite the challenge to pull off. But we made it!

Before you - Mel and Fyodor as The Wardens of Spring

Inspiration

I thought it'd be fun to play into our Slavic backgrounds and present to you something a bit unusual - all in preparation for the New Year and all that it will bring us.

Here we have Fydor dressed as one of the Kukeri; men who'll put on the visage of vicious beasts and creatures that roam only your nightmares all in order to ward off the true evil spirits of the world. The new year should be rid of evil and misfortune if they're around. Traditionally the costume is overly elaborate with lots of garments, furs, belts. An animal mask is needed both to frighten the spirits and to shield the person underneath. Serious business, I hope Fyodor doesn't get a heat stroke from this. We pray, besties🙏

And I'll be playing the role of a Nestinarka - women who walk on hot coals barefoot. It's said they fall into a trance, not feeling any pain as they perform a ritual for bringing forth prosperity, luck, and the protection of loved ones into the coming year.

Don't worry all, I will not let him keep the mask on for long. I promise we'll behave; not setting fires anywhere and all <3