be a body

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/53709406.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Relationship: Dazai Osamu/Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Characters: Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray
Dogs)
Additional Tags: Incest, Sibling Incest, Brother/Sister Incest, T4T fyozai incest whoooo,
Trans Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Trans Fyodor Dostoyevsky
(Bungou Stray Dogs), Transfeminine Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray
Dogs), transmasculine fyodor, fyozai being... the way that they are, no
beta duh, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Vaginal Sex, Bottom
Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs), Top Dazai Osamu (Bungou
Stray Dogs), infertility talked about briefly if that upsets u, Bickering
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-02-12 Words: 1,036 Chapters: 1/1
 be a body
by whorecoded

Summary

The bedroom is small, cramped-- when their parents had sent them off to live on their own,
they couldn’t afford much. Which is the main reason Dazai still lives with her brother. The
other reason--

When Fyodor leans back to lay on the messy bedspread, Dazai can see in her periphery that
he’s entirely naked, save for his binder.

--The other reason is that there’s a bit of an unhealthy attachment.

t4t fyozai incest for the soul xoxo

Notes

for the realest of the real

See the end of the work for more notes

There’s the sound of someone clearing their throat behind Dazai. Pointedly, she doesn’t turn
around, pen still moving across the paper when Fyodor pads across the room and sits on
Dazai’s bed, just to the right of Dazai’s sightline. The bedroom is small, cramped-- when
their parents had sent them off to live on their own, they couldn’t afford much. Which is the
main reason Dazai still lives with her brother. The other reason--

When Fyodor leans back to lay on the messy bedspread, Dazai can see in her periphery that
he’s entirely naked, save for his binder.

--The other reason is that there’s a bit of an unhealthy attachment.

“I’ve still got work to do,” Dazai says, gaze still focused on the pages in front of her. She’s
almost finished with her novel, if only she could refrain from getting distracted.

Fyodor seems determined to distract her, though, because he remains on the bed, perfectly
still. Waiting silently for her to give in. And she does, of course, after a few more minutes of
writing, turning her chair to face the bed and narrowing her eyes at him. He’s got his feet
towards her, legs parted just enough that she can see his cunt, and is peering down his nose at
her challengingly.

“Fine,” Dazai says, getting up from her chair and dropping onto the bed beside Fyodor’s hips,
patting his thigh. “You’re so needy. This is why you’re the problem child.”

“We both know that’s you, sister dearest,” Fyodor says haughtily. He’s laying like a corpse,
Dazai thinks, arms flat at his sides and body perfectly neutral. He’s always been so creepy ,
even when they were little.

Dazai doesn’t reply, only slides her hand down the slope of Fyodor’s leg to press a finger to
his folds.

“Not interested,” Fyodor says lamely.

“You’re soaking wet,” Dazai deadpans.

Fyodor hums as if this is a thought-provoking statement, spreading his legs enough that
Dazai can properly slot her hand between his legs. Two fingers slip inside easily enough;
“Were you jacking off?” Dazai asks teasingly, scissoring the digits against his walls. Fyodor
has always been one to flush easily, frail and easily flustered-- purely in the physical sense--
and Dazai delights in seeing him shake and turn pink-cheeked and rosy.

This is the one arena in which Dazai can overwhelm her older brother, the one area in which
Dazai is superior. True to form, Fyodor opens beautifully around her fingers, cunt clenching
around the intrusion, clit throbbing against Dazai’s palm. He’s so easy, it makes Dazai dizzy.
She’s had years-- her whole life, really-- to perfect the art of breaking Fyodor down, and this
is the most satisfying way. When she pulls her hand away, there’s slick dripping in thin,
drooly ropes off the tips of her fingers.
Sighing as if bored, Dazai shoves her skirt down her legs, letting it pool at one end of the
mattress. With the hand still wet with Fyodor’s slick, she works herself to full hardness,
frowning at Fyodor, who only spreads his legs and waits, face set into a challenging grimace.

“Don’t make that face. You look like you’re having an aneurysm,” Dazai informs him,
crawling up so she can situate herself between Fyodor’s thighs.

“Insightful.”

Dazai clicks her tongue at Fyodor’s lack of enthusiasm, grabbing his hips and attempting to
fold him in half in retaliation. The problem is that Fyodor is anything but flexible, and only
hisses in pain, face finally scrunching into anything but practiced neutrality. It makes him
look like an angry cat, and Dazai cheerfully pats his hip. “Hope you’re ready,” She says
sunnily, not waiting for a response before pressing in, dick sliding home in one smooth,
unforgiving motion.

The way Fyodor hiccups a weird, strained moan makes Dazai laugh, not waiting for Fyodor
to adjust before starting up a quick pace. The pinched, stressed look on Fyodor’s face is even
more arousing than the feeling of him clenching around Dazai’s dick, and Dazai holds back a
giggle when a particularly well-aimed thrust makes him shiver and jolt, mouth flapping like a
fish.

“Can’t even move your hips a little?” Dazai grunts brattily, shifting Fyodor against the
mattress. He goes easily, sliding down the bed like a ragdoll, brushing sweaty hair out of his
face.

“Don’t be getting prissy now, sister dearest,” Fyodor pants.

“You’re the prissy one,” Dazai hisses, angling her hips to press in deeper. Fyodor’s thighs
twitch and spasm around her hips, and the jerky little moan he lets out makes Dazai grin, hips
moving faster. Fyodor claws at one of her arms, gasping with each thrust, gaze narrowed into
a weak glare. Every snap of Dazai’s hips folds him in on himself further, and his back must
be aching, but that only makes Dazai fuck him harder, faster, giggling breathlessly at the
drowned-cat expression on her brother’s face.

She doesn’t bother pulling out when she comes-- Fyodor’s beyond infertile now, on the
strange cocktail of drugs she takes and the general sense of illness that defines him-- and the
irritation evident on Fyodor’s face makes it beyond worth it.

Lazily, Dazai rubs at Fyodor’s clit, grinding the pads of her fingers into the nerve until
Fyodor comes with a twitch and a shout, dibbling come onto the mattress.

“Ew,” Dazai says, smearing her fingers on Fyodor’s thigh.

Fyodor attempts a weak, sweaty smirk. “Thank you, sister dearest,” He says benignly,
gasping when Dazai lowers his legs. Feeling a bare spike of kindness, she massages his
thighs a little, trying to work the blood back into him.
It’s a useless task, and Dazai gives up nearly immediately, bored of playing nurse. “I have to
work on my book,” She murmurs, remembering. She shoves Fyodor’s legs away from her
lap, clamoring off the bed to retrieve her skirt, hiking it haphazardly up her legs before
returning to the desk. “Stop distracting me, you dirty swerve rat.”

Fyodor hums and pulls Dazai’s blanket over himself.

“Don’t get cum on my sheets,” Dazai says, feeling around for her pen.

“Turn the lamp off, would you, sister dearest?”

“No,” Dazai snaps, “I’m writing.”

“Always,” Fyodor sighs, wistful, pulling the blankets up over his head.
End Notes

rahhhh

the usual things:

here's my new and improved fic request sheet!

pls consider checking out my lovely spotify, particularly my dazai, fyodor, and fyozai
playlists xoxo

if you’d like to talk, here's my retrospring, or find me on my 18+ twitter

my carrd

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!