Fyodor X Chuuya - Tumblr Posts

Kinda feel like writing sumn

✨️toxic✨️

So here's some possessive/yandere fyodor x chuuya heehooo let's go fyoya nation

Godly Possession

tw: yandere themes, possessiveness (duh), obsession, fyodor give dazai his man back, dazai fighting for his boo thang, I love torturing chuuya, I'll add more later cause tbh I'm jus winging this, noncon

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Chuuya wasn't a god.

Far from it.

His own irritability, his pride, his insecurity, and even his own body was far from it.

But his ability was something different.

With the powers of Arahabaki, he was the closest you could get to an actual, real life God.

And as the prophet, the speaker of the heavens,

It was Fyodor's birthright to own him.

To keep him for himself to be used how he see fit.

He lured Chuuya in first. A house built with his ability in mind. Some say the only way to speak to a god is to pray to him, but to Fyodor, he decided to force him down to his level. Low enough for him to hear. To listen.

Trapped in a room cased with anti-ability technology, all he could do was fight and yell until Fyodor decided he was ready to talk.

He could've wasted hours talking down to him, telling him he's nothing but the Port Mafia's little guard dog, tied down so much that they no longer needed a leash, he simply followed his masters on his own. He was a rabid beast with incredible power, being used at barely even a half of what he could be.

Fyodor gave him a choice at first. He could join him willingly or not. But saying no was not an option. He said he would submit to him eventually, Fyodor was sure of it.

Then began the period of starvation, abuse, mistreatment, all things Chuuya took with gritted teeth and resilience in his eyes. Nothing would tear him away from the Port Mafia. Nothing at all.

Fyodor would bring him food three times a day, meals that Chuuya assumed were laced with something harmful, anything from sleeping pills to mind-controlling technology, he wasn't sure what Fyodor had up his sleeves. All he knew was that it wasn't poison. Definitely not. He needed him alive.

He needed his ability.

When Chuuya didn't eat, Fyodor starved him until he was too weak to fight him off as he spoonfed him. Yet the ginger haired man stayed resilient, hesitantly opening his mouth with his eyes fixed on the dark haired man.

Despite his boredom, he stayed seated the floor, too caught up in his pride to use the soft, comfy bed he was provided. One with soft white sheets that welcomed him more the longer he stayed.

He hated the feeling of it, but he didn't bathe for days. That bathroom was for expelling waste only, and even that was far too much of a risk. Chuuya hasn't a clue what Fyodor could be hiding in there, what plan he has in store for him.

Fyodor would come in and stay for hours, talking, trying to entertain the poor boy. He didn't bother to give him anything else to do, the point was something he called subtle torture. He didn't want to hurt Chuuya, not that much anyway.

It was all a battle of the mind. Fyodor would have been more challenged by someone like Dazai, and Chuuya knew that. So he chose to disclose as little information as possible. Refusing to answer questions, cursing him out every chance he got. He wasn't properly armed for this war, but he would fight in it anyway.

At some point, after maybe 3 or 4 months of this back and forth, Fyodor had had enough. He grew impatient with Chuuya's constant rebuttals, his answers that bounced back on his questions, revealing nothing. Unbeknownst to the redhead, Fyodor didn't want information. He didn't want anything to do with the Port Mafia. He wanted him.

Fyodor decided to punish him in a way that would forever change the entire atmosphere of this little game forever, altering the dynamic between the two. If Chuuya wasn't going to submit to him, he might as well fuck it out of him.

With the looming threat of Fyodor's ability, Chuuya wouldn't be able to fight back. Knowing he could end his life at any moment, any sign of rebellion, was enough to force him to obey. Fyodor kept his hands on Chuuya's body, from his wrists to his arms to his chest to his waist. He kept in contact with him throughout the entire love making. His cock stuffed inside of the poor boy, exiting and entering at such a slow pace, it frustrated him. It took a lot of work, but finally Chuuya started to beg. Not for him to stop, but to at least go faster. He couldn't bare this slow fucking anymore. He needed to cum, to release, even if part of him didn't want to. His stupid little monkey brain was giving in to the feeling, to the sensation of Fyodor's skin against his, his cock shoved deep inside him, while his true brain simply wanted to leave, to break a hole through the ceiling and use his ability to fly out of here. He hadn't felt so powerless in so long, and it was all in the hands of him.

After what felt like hours, all Chuuya could do was lie on the bed where Fyodor had fucked him, finally forcing him into the sheets. His body was absolutely wrecked, bite marks and bruises littering his skin. There was cum on his stomach and chest and even more seeping out of him. His breaths were shallow and uneven, and his eyes bore holes into the ceiling. They were tired from aimlessly wandering around the room, quickly and unsteady, trying to find a way out. But there was none.

"I hope you will be more willing to bathe now," Fyodor broke the deafening silence. It seemed like all he could hear for a couple minutes was his breathing, and the subtle sounds of Fyodor shuffling around next to him. He hadn't removed any of his clothes during the intercourse, all he had to do was pull his cock back into his pants and put his ushanka back on.

"I can do it for you." He said.

"P...piss off..." Chuuya slurred tiredly.

"Take my hand, Chuuya." Fyodor demanded calmly, stretching his opened palm out to him for the redhead to to accept.

"Don't...ffffucking call me that."

Fyodor didn't take that for an answer. He grabbed Chuuya's wrist and pulled him up from the bed. He struggled to get up, but as soon as he was stable on the floor he was pulled into the bathroom. It took him a little longer to catch up, as his legs still weren't working properly. As soon as they got in he walked even slower into the bathroom, too cautious for his own good.

"Don't be scared," Fyodor reassured him, "all I did was ability-proof the room, I did nothing to it that would put your safety at risk."

He got the redhead into the tub, and started filling it up with warm water. He winced at the touch of the initially cold water touching the bruises on his legs.

"Does it hurt?" Fyodor asked. He tried undoing the tie in Chuuya's messy and unkempt hair, but the man pulled away and did it himself, even if his wrists were sore from the hold the other had on them.

The two watched the water fill up the tub in silence. Then, Chuuya let Fyodor wash the gunk that's been building up in his hair the past few days, albeit unwillingly, then his hands cascaded down to his chest and arms. Fyodor was even careful enough to go easy on the parts with bruises and bite marks, which Chuuya still didn't appreciate. That's okay. He'll learn to appreciate everything Fyodor does for him soon.

Chuuya doesn't talk much after that. When Fyodor asks if he wants to eat, or if he wants to partake in a friendly chat, he just looks at him with the same resentful eyes then looks away. It makes Fyodor chuckle to himself at how much he's trying to fight back now, like a wounded dog growling at him to stay back, knowing it's too weak to do any real damage.

Fyodor watches Chuuya eat. At least, he tries to, but his wrists are still sore, which makes his hands shake and tremble as he tries to bring the spoon up to his face. Fyodor gets tired of seeing this and gently takes the spoon out of Chuuya's trembling hand, and brings it up to his own mouth, blows on it, then brings it up to Chuuya's.

He hesitates, then takes the spoonful of food into his mouth.

"Good, isn't it?" Fyodor asks as he watches the redhead chew.

Chuuya just looked away with a "hmph."

Hmm. Still not getting to him.

Fyodor would have his way with him every couple of days after that. With each thrust, with each pull, bite, bruise, with each grip on his wrists, he could feel a piece of Chuuya's soul cracking away.

One morning, Chuuya woke up to the feeling of warmth on his skin. A feeling he has long forgotten. He opens his eyes and they immediately ache with the feeling of something bright creeping into his-

Sunlight.

It's sunlight.

He shuffled up into a seating position and saw it. A long, slender, rectangle of sunlight appeared in front of him.

A window.

Now, if the same Chuuya Nakahara who first entered this little trap had seen this window, he would've smashed right through it to freedom. Call the Port Mafia for backup. Arrive with an army to take Fyodor down. But this wasn't the same Chuuya Nakahara.

He's long gone now.

Chuuya stared up at the window, this feeling of warmth being unfamiliar on his skin.

The thought of using it to escape didn't even cross his mind.

"Do you like it?" Came a voice. Now that was familiar.

Chuuya slowly looked back to find the same face he's been seeing throughout these past few months, the same dark hair, the same ushanka, the same coat.

"I figured you would like it," He said. "I blocked it out before you came, and I opened it this morning. What do you think?"

"....it's warm." Chuuya said softly, looking down. He felt like he had to shrink in Fyodor's presence.

The man put a cold, slender hand on his face and lifted it slowly to look up at him.

"You know," He started, with Chuuya's eyes fixed up at him, his face weak and starting to rest completely on Fyodor's hand.

"You may have been feeling weak while in here, but actually, I believe you are just as strong as you've always been.

I think your power is just....under new guidance."

"...guidance?"

"Yes. Guidance.

From now on I will guide you, to use your ability for the better. Wouldn't you want that....

Chuuya?"

He took his hand out of the man's face, and stretched it out in front of him. Asking him to take it.

The redhead paused. He looked down at the hand in front of him,

And took it.

He took his hand and let him call him Chuuya.

All his walls have broken down.

He himself has broken down.

All he is now is a dog for Fyodor to use, a puppet, a weapon.

Mind completely taken over by the man in the black coat, the speaker for god.

But now he had his own god he can control.

"Chuuya," someone called for him.

It was Dazai.

A once familiar face seems to be all a distant memory now.

He had found him here, atop a tall building, at the very center of one of Fyodor's plans.

"It's been a while, aye, Slug?"

Chuuya didn't know what to say.

He didn't know how to talk to Dazai anymore.

All he knew was Fyodor and his cause.

He didn't even stop to think if he agreed with it, he just knew he had to obey him.

"So this is where you've been this past year?"

Year? It's been a year already? How long was he inside that room? It couldn't have been that long...right?

Chuuya turned away. He wasn't ordered to kill Dazai, in fact, he said nothing about him being here. Did Fyodor not expect him? No, he must've seen him coming. He knows everything, and Chuuya knows nothing. That's how it works, right?

.....right?

"Looks like ol' Fedya's got you wrapped around his skinny little finger, huh?" Dazai continued. "I mean, I knew you were never that smart, but c'mon, Chuuya! You're better than that!"

What was supposed to be the same playful banter these two had exchanged so often had now grown stale. Odd. Unfamiliar. Chuuya didn't know how to react to it, or if he even should. He didn't get any orders from Fyodor regarding Dazai, so he didn't know what to do here.

"Chuuya." He said. His tone was stern and serious. He rarely ever sounded like that. Chuuya didn't seem to know him that well anymore, or even remember him that much, but he had a vague image of what he was like, despite it being altered by Fyodor's manipulation.

"Do you remember that name?" He asked.

The redhead turned around to face him.

"Only I can call you that." He said.

At this point the redhead didn't know if that was true. His past has been flushed out by Fyodor, he couldn't even remember if people called him by that name before.

"And only I can take your hand."

His palm was open, outstretched, ready for him to take.

Just like Fyodor's was.

But this was different. The way his name sounded in his voice, the way his hand poked out of his tan trenchcoat, which revealed a little bit of the bandages wrapped around his arm underneath. It felt like something he hadn't felt in a while.

In a world of cold, he felt warm.

"Come back to me, Chuuya." He called.

"Your power was never meant for him. It was for you."

Chuuya was starting to remember. The foggy vision of Dazai in his head began to grow clearer.

He remembers meeting him out in the slums when they were teenagers, kicking him into the wall with his ability.

His ability.

He remembers their first mission together, and their last. He remembers everything in-between, the banter, the fights, the anger, and yet, the quiet, somber moments, too.

He remembers joining the Port Mafia. He remembers Dazai leaving it. He remembers the wine he drank the night he left. A 1964 Romanèe-Conti. He remembers the way it tasted. He remembers the way it felt.

He remembers Dazai's touch, his skin against his own. Warm, it was warm.

He wondered if he took his hand now, would it still be warm?

Would he feel the way he did back then?

Would he even remember it?

All of it?

He didn't know.

He had to take a risk.

Not because Fyodor wanted him to, not even because Dazai wanted him to.

But because he wanted to.

Chuuya's hand reached out slowly.

Chuuya. His name was Chuuya.

It sounded different in his voice, in Dazai's voice too.

Did it sound different in other people's voices?

In Kouyou's?

In Ace's?

In Higuchi's?

In Akutagawa's?

He had to know.

He stepped closer, and held onto Dazai's hand.

His ability activated, and Chuuya's stopped.

It was a warm kind of day, he realized.

He didn't notice it until now.

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THIS TOOK ME ALL DAY I AM TIRED AND IM SORRY IF ITS NOT THAT GOOD AMD I JUSY REALIZED I WAS SUPLOSED TO DO AN EXAM AND I DIDNT OH SHIT OHHHHH FUCK

anyway

Fyodor slut era

Purpose! AU

Tags: major character death, depressed chuuya, hints of soukoku, hinted dissociative amnesia, decay of angels chuuya, fyodor pretty much wants chuuya to join him lol he's so whipped

I'm planning on drawing for this au too, but the quality of the pictures will be bad if I post them thru my phone. So here's my art account, posted straight from my drawing tablet, it's mostly mha art so far but I'm going to add hints of bsd in there too.

Art acc: @god-shit-girl-art

"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Your past, your present, and your future, give it to me. And I will give you purpose."

Chuuya laid achingly amidst the softness around him. Linen sheets and silk pillowcases danced around him on his bed, and yet, he paid them no mind.

A heart can only take so much. But in his case, it seemed as if it had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to own, nothing to fight for.

It had been 2 months since Dazai mysteriously died. He feels guilty for the fact that he cannot even remember how it happened. The death of his....someone....and his mind couldn't even grant him the decency to remember.

It was like that in cases of trauma. Just like the heart, the mind can only take so much before it breaks. Shattering like a mirror, some pieces will inevitably break apart, never to be seen again.

All he knows is that before he died, however he died, Dazai had used his Ability on Chuuya. And now that he was gone, so was his Ability. Chuuya no longer has the power of gravity manipulation, but for some odd reason, he wasn't mourning over it.

Whether Dazai had left him a note, a phrase, a word, or anything at all, he didn't know. It was all a part of the shattered mirror that was his mind. He couldn't even remember how he died, or if he even left him anything. Part of him wished, prayed, begged for this to all be some sort of scheme, one of Dazai's old tricks. He wasn't dead, no, this is just part of his plan. Somehow, some way he and the ADA will fix this mess, and they'll be together again. Someday, any day now.

....right?

The creak of a large wooden door could be heard from across the room, reminding Chuuya of where he was. He didn't bother getting up, or even looking in its direction. He laid there like a lifeless dog, after losing its owner.

"Nakahara Chuuya," came a voice. Deep and laced with an accent. Chuuya knew who it was, and was half-hoping to hear the sound of an ADA member, telling him to get up and that Dazai needed him for the next phase of his plan.

When Chuuya didn't reply, footsteps answered instead. The sound of hard leather soles against the expensive polished wood, it rang in his ears. He never bothered to really listen to them before.

"I have to admit, it was hard to find you," said the man, tall and slender, his shadow doing justice to his sleek and mysterious nature.

"This penthouse of yours, seems far too big for just one person. However I do believe you'd been visited many a night, correct?"

Asshole.

Did he just call Chuuya a whore?

Perhaps it was the thinly veiled insult, or how Chuuya just realized that a powerful enemy whose strength outweighed his own was now in his bedroom, but the ginger found the strength to sit back up. However slowly and groggily, with his hair a red-orange mess that framed his face and a dress shirt unbuttoned across his chest. His blue eyes seemed more grey, now that Fyodor looks at it. Were they always this dull?

"What do you want you anemic son of a bitch," Chuuya said, it wasn't a question.

Fyodor didn't answer. Instead the two stared at each other, one with eyes posing no threat and one with eyes that couldn't pose any even if it wanted to. In his mind, the Russian compared the man's blue-grey eyes to that of an empty glass. Nothing to give, nothing but potential.

"Dazai's dead." Chuuya said finally. His voice was hoarse and he could taste his thick saliva. How long had it been since he brushed his teeth or combed his hair? Was he wearing the same clothes he did that day 2 months ago? Or was it that night?

"I am aware, yes." Fyodor said, his voice and demeanor unwavering. What did this asshole want?

Chuuya looked down, facing his hands that laid aimlessly on his knees, legs folded, blankets ruffled and forgotten. There were wounds on them. Why were there wounds on them?

"However, I am not here for him."

Chuuya looked back at the dark-haired man, noticing a change in his attire. His coat that had once terrorized countless innocents in its dark tone was now white, with dark feathers around the collar. He could barely see what was inside, though.

"You look unwell." He said.

"Yeah? Great, thanks." Chuuya retorted sarcastically. "That's what I was goin' for, actually."

Fyodor chuckled at his comment, voice deep and alluring.

"You know, Chuuya, a man is only as great as his biggest weakness."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Fyodor maintained his smile, and began walking to the side of the room slowly, leather shoes rhythmically playing the wooden floor like a piano. Slow and steady, each note just like the last. Like it was leading up to something.

"It's a story of power. Lose and obtain. Give and take. Something must be lost in order for another to be found."

Fyodor took one of the floor-length curtains in one of his pale, slender hands. His illuminating lilac eyes remained focused on the redhead.

"You lost one of your biggest crutches," He said. "And in turn, one of your biggest weaknesses. Ride a bicycle with training wheels, and you'll never truly learn to ride without them."

"Wait a second," Chuuya finally gained the strength to speak again. "Are you talking about Dazai?"

Fyodor nodded, as if he was happy to hear Chuuya was on the right track.

"The man was a necessary loss. The final stepping stone to your metamorphosis. Because of him, and everyone who you've lost before, you now have the choice to become something greater."

"And what's that?" Chuuya scowled. "Another one of your chess pieces? Another pawn to your sick little game? Dazai is dead, you've won. What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Ah, you take the king away," Fyodor said, "but the queen still has all the power."

With that, his hand flew to the side, opening the curtains wide enough to see the world below it, the world outside. Cars and streetlights, people out on the town, the moon shining just as bright as before, as if nothing had changed.

"Even without your Ability, I believe you still have the potential to create more," He said, staring up into the stars.

Chuuya emerged from the darkness of his canopy bed, the first time he stood on his own two feet in ages. He walked to Fyodor's side, entranced by the light of the moon.

"Ah, how fitting for it to be a third quarter tonight." Fyodor said.

"A what?"

"A third quarter. Only half the moon is visible tonight, the other is shadowed in the dark. And yet, it's still just as beautiful, no?"

Fyodor faced Chuuya, albeit having to look down a little bit to look him in the eye.

"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Join me, give me your past, your present and your future, trust it with me and I will give you a new purpose."

Fyodor stretched his hand out to Chuuya.

"Together, the moon will shine even brighter than before."

"What do you say, Chuuya Nakahara?"

Fyoya doodle 💜