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can you do anything about gojo YEARNINNGGG or the things showing he’s yearning
yearning gojo wanting more
about. “you know,” he said softly, voice lower, almost rough with something you didn’t catch, “i don’t think i can ever get enough of this. of you.”, in which gojo sees every detail about you and wants more.
gojo was impossible to ignore in a crowd, but right now, all he wanted was to fade into the background. not because he was shy, but because he wanted to be only yours. every instinct and every action revolved around you, quietly and subtly, like the pull of gravity you didn’t see but couldn’t escape.
he poured your tea first, watching you stir it, tilting his head as if he could memorize the way your fingers curled around the cup. “careful,” he murmured softly, leaning closer so the warmth of his shoulder brushed yours. “wouldn’t want it to spill.” not really a warning, just a reason to lean in closer.
later, when you got up, he followed with that same quiet gaze. “here, let me,” he said, guiding your hand to steady the bag you’d picked up too quickly. when you stepped on a loose tile, his hand was already brushing against your back, steadying you without a word. and when you laughed nervously, cheeks flushing, he smirked lightly. “relax. you look ridiculous when you worry,” he teased, but there was a softness under the tease, brewing warmth you could feel without thinking.
everywhere you went, he matched your pace, leaned just slightly closer when you spoke, adjusted his own steps so that you never hurting, never had to reach too far. he paid attention to small touches, brushing hair from your face, letting your fingers linger on the small of his arm when you reached for him, carried a magnetic pull you hadn’t noticed until you tried to focus on something else.
“hey,” he said one afternoon, when you both sat on the couch, tea cooling between you, “you okay?” his hand rested on your knee, not touching too much, but touching just enough, warm and light, grounding. “you’ve been frowning at that screen for five minutes. I’m starting to think it’s personal.” his thumb brushed lightly along your hand when you reached for the mug, as if he needed that small, tethering contact.
you wanted to brush it off, laugh, but your chest fluttered. he didn’t just ask, he noticed. he saw everything. and in that seeing, there was a pull you didn’t fully understand yet, a quiet, insistent devotion.
but one evening, the air between you shifted. he stayed longer when he held your hand to guide you past a puddle. he pressed the back of his fingers to your wrist a second longer than necessary, brushing against your pulse. when you tilted your head, he mirrored the movement, leaning closer. “you know,” he said softly, voice lower, almost rough with something you didn’t catch, “i don’t think i can ever get enough of this. of you.”
it wasn’t teasing, not really. it wasn’t playful. there was a weight behind it, a subtle ache, a yearning in his eyes that stretched further than words, deeper than casual care.
you blinked, caught off guard by the intensity, and before you could respond, he tilted his head, brushing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “i want… more,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, but the vibration hit you like a pulse. “i want all of it. your attention, your time, your… everything. not just your laughs or your smiles. you.”
the confession was quiet, barely spoken, but it resonated through every part of you. every small gesture he had ever done, from sliding a chair under you, adjusting your coat, steadying your steps, to lingering touches that seemed accidental, it all clicked together. every instinctive, tiny act had been him pulling you close, tethering himself to you, letting his yearning seep into every corner of your shared space.
he didn’t demand it, he didn’t force it, he simply existed, entirely yours in every subtle motion, every whispered word, every carefully measured touch, and finally, he let the truth slip into the quiet: he needed more than presence. he needed you. fully. and it shook the world softly, quietly, between the two of you.
Make sure you don't accidentally punish people for communicating their needs and boundaries. When someone cares enough to have the uncomfortable conversation, that's a compliment and a clear sign that they are invested in the relationship. Yes of course it's uncomfortable to hear that something you've been doing has been upsetting someone you care about when that was never your intention, but people generally only bother to have these conversations with the people they want to keep around - the people they trust to care. If they just didn't like you, they'd probably just try to avoid you. So make sure you don't make it into a more punishing experience than it has to be. Try to see the care and the trust behind the criticism, even when it triggers uncomfortable emotions. It's a good sign that they're there telling you.
I wanna know what fyodor will do to u of u called him a "good boy~" and pat his head
Fem reader
Well I don't think he would like that at all 🤕 If you told that to Dazai he would laugh and say "what's up with you, Belladonna? hmm...". But this man right there wants to be in control so he would stare at you and think "what is this supposed to mean?" And he would probably think something is wrong with you. Remember the egg scene in prison from the manga? Yeah his face is %100 like that lmaoo haha and just when you think you've made a mistake and feel embarrassed, the way your expression changes gives him a sense of control again. Without a doubt, he loves it. He'll recall that moment and chuckle to himself when he's alone and working. But let's say that you two are sleeping and he found himself being hugged by you with your hand loosely wrapped around his head. He won't admit that he likes it. And when you move your hand to press his head deeper into your chest and caress his hair gently along the way GOD he thinks he is a few more steps closer to heaven. He will let it happen for a few minutes and cherish the moment. After, he will move away to admire your sleeping face before pulling you into his body and embracing you. He would put your head just below his chin. Well he likes your scent and while drifting off to sleep last thing he would think would be you and he prays... prays to god that you won't ever become one of those people who try to bring him down all the time... And görl what's that username haha u made me laugh love u 🥰
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• TW: Angst no comfort (sorry), Gn reader, established relationship, Fyodor chose his plans over reader, suffering, no use of y/n
• So guess who is backkk. (Me ✋)Only to share this with you my loves. I swear whenever I try to write hurt/comfort I find myself writing angst. This was in my drafts since August. I was keeping it in a shoebox under my bed to share in Christmas 🤪 Also, happy Christmas everyone 🥳 Also I couldn't write part 3 for my ex-husband Fyodor fic so sorry about that. Mentally I'm not prepared and physically I don't have the time to write. I'm too tired and I have been sleeping for 5 hours everyday for 3 months because of college😴 but hey here is the short fic. Hope you enjoy <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated. I wanna know what you guys think 🥺
• The song is "You Broke My Heart Again" by Teqkoi
It's snowing again... just like that day. It is a little cold and lonely. No sound of pages turning, shallow breaths near my nape or cold fingers brushing and tucking little strands of hair behind my ear gently. And the sound of the door opening and closing, now making me understand your departure with a kiss that felt strange that time and now I realise how foolish I was. Leaving me so suddenly without saying a word at all... and going your own way... It is too cruel. You are too cruel. But may it bring you happiness I couldn't.
No, my love, I do not condemn or pity you. How could I? When all of my letters are about loving you unconditionally. I knew you couldn't stay by my side forever like this, without a care in the world. Even when White Christmas is upon us, while I don't even know your whereabouts, there is just this one wish I keep praying over and over. If you ever think about me, even for a second, please give yourself what I couldn't offer you, although God knows how much I wanted to... A glimpse of forgiveness.
Oh how I know that you won't accept it despite whatever I do because of your own pride.
I know it is not my place to say these words to you but you've done enough; please forgive yourself for your past and the agonizing incidents that wasn't your fault. Let go of the remorse you've been holding in your heart god knows how long, and allow me to embrace you for everything that has happened to you. And may you find solace in my arms just as I found mine in yours.
Isn't it funny how people refer to you as soulles when, in reality, only things you carry are the pieces of people once were a part of your soul.
Yes, Merry Christmas, Mr. Dostoevsky
Please forgive me for not being able to send you all of these letters that I wished for you to read. As if they'd ever reach you but please don't be upset by my fondness of you.
Maybe... maybe in another universe when my hand reaches out to yours for you to keep, I will get to hold yours this time. Ah and I'm sure you would like how the sky looked right now... All white and endless, just like your hometown that you seemed to admire.
And, as always, I will keep this letter in a box under my bed alongside other letters that were never meant to be sent to you. Oh, how I wish you were here with me now. If you are not here right now, who knows how these things work?
But please let my soul find salvation in yours
My beloved
My love
Please do not let this be my final goodbye. Appear in my mind like a breeze, gently remind me of your light, because without you, it is extremely cold and I am terribly lonely. Yes, I admit it now, my worst sin was letting you go. Yes, it's surely have been my worst mistake.
I'm not going crazy. Am I? So please let another universe be where you and I are together and without a care in the world, where I get you all to myself, where you don't have to try so hard, where the only time I will ever change my last name is when we exchange vows, and where the only eyes I will ever see before I close my eyes eternally will be yours.
Because for you there's only love.
For you, there's only love
Merry Christmas, Fyodor
May God bring an end to all of your battles within you that I couldn't end with love...
Sorry, I wasn't active lately 🥺😔 I'm busy with uni . So I don't know if I can write another fic for my bbg Fyodor but I will try if I have time. Sorry for disappointing you guys. I wish I could be active as much as I wanted to. Thank you all for support and love. Love u all 💜
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KNOW THAT I'D GLADLY BE THE ICARUS TO YOUR CERTAINTY
FEATURING: D.OSAMU + GN!READER
dazai has never found himself falling this hard for someone before you
CW: fluff, written with fem reader in mind but really is gn reader, dazai being whipped, established relationship, slight angst near the end
A/N: this man is so pathetic i need him anyways sorry for ghosting the dazai x reader tag yall rip
dazai thinks you might be trying to kill him.
not with a knife to the throat, not with spiking his food or drink with poison, no not at all. you're not even doing anything, and yet his heart is beating so fast he can't even control his heartrate anymore. you're just typing away on your keyboard and dazai's throat feels so tight he worries that maybe you'll be the one that finally grants him the death he's been yearning for.
not that he'd mind, dying by your hands. his only regret to that would be he'd never lay eyes upon you again.
carefully, dazai shuffled his chair closer to you, head faced forward but his eyes peeking towards you. the sun shone bright on your skin, illuminating your face in a way that could be angelic, that was still angelic, if you weren't scrunching your face up, eyes squinting as you looked down at the screen.
oh, the sun's bothering you.
"hm? what are you..." you looked up as dazai got up from his chair and stood in front of your desk, blocking the bothersome light with his frame.
he leaned closer, grinning at you. "what? not even a thank you, 'bella?" you leaned back in your seat, suppressing the smile that threatened your lips. god, did he look cute like that, grinning up at you with a flush blooming on his cheeks, eyes wide and pupils dilated as if to take you in further than his body would allow.
you quirked your head to the side, humming as you reached out your hand. "for getting out of your chair?" your hand brushed his face, tucking some of dazai's soft hair behind his ear.
he bumped his cheek against your hand, furrowing his brows as he pushed his lip out. so cute.
"Did you not see what I just did for you?" dazai gasped.
you couldn't help but giggle. "you got up."
"I defied the sun for you, 'bella!" he exclaimed, pressing his puffed out cheek against your palm. "I did it because it was bothering you! I think that requires a show of appreciation, don't you think?"
you couldn't help but laugh at dazai's theatrics, gently brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. "thank you, for defying the sun for me osamu."
"osamu". the way you said his name made his stomach do summersaults. he whined as you pulled your hand away, letting out a scoff as your gaze dropped down to your work. quickly, he hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your face up, dropping the pout on his face for a coltish grin instead. "that's not what i mean, darling." dazai whispered as he leaned closer. he was close, so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin.
just as you were about to inquire what he meant, as if reading your mind dazai pressed his lips against yours, giggling against your mouth before pulling away.
"that's what i mean." he cooed, pressing his thumb against your lip.
of course he knew what you were going to say.
rolling your eyes and sighing as if exasperated, you looked up at him. but how could anyone even fake annoyance at the look on his beautiful face, all starry-eyed and flushed?
cupping his warm cheeks, you leaned in to kiss him. immediately dazai was around you, leaning uncomfortably over the desk to press one hand between your shoulder blades and the other finding purchase of your waist, chapped lips soft against your own.
his giggles quieted down to a soft hum against your mouth, nose bumping against yours as dazai kissed you. a whine slipped past he lips when you pulled away, and dazai couldn't help but childishly pout as you placed a hand on his chest to halt him as he chased your lips, missing the warmth they brought.
"your so mean, what if these were my final moments and you didn't let me kiss you one last time, hm? what then?" dazai puffed. yet even through his pretend displeasure, the giddiness that he so strongly felt was clear on his face, pale cheeks dusted pink and the corner of his lips tightening.
you let out a breathy giggle, letting your hand drop from his chest. "I can assure you, I'm not gonna let you die just because you didn't get to kiss me.
dazai only grumbled, leaning to kiss your cheek. "that's not want i meant!"
"we both know that's what you mean, osamu."
again with saying his name like that, you're going to kill him. dazai simply whined in response, pressing quick kisses across your face. he tried to calm the pace of his pulse yet it wouldn't cease its pounding.
what do you do to him?
"besides," you thread your fingers into his chocolatey brown hair, pressing your cheek against his head. "you're not going anywhere without me."
dazai tried. he really did try to say something witty to that, to make you flustered instead and he swore it was on the tip of his tongue but really the words were stuck in his throat, a jumbled mess of letters is what you've reduced his quick tongue to.
he pulled away to lick his dry lips, staring at your cheek as he tried to collect himself, mind a mushy mess of fuzziness and warmth. "how romantic of you 'bella." he croaked out with a chuckle, pressing his face against your neck.
dazai's lips brushed against your pulse. fast, but not pounding like his. he pressed his face further against you, like he wanted you to swallow him whole.
he'd do it, if it meant he'd be near you forever.
he'd do it, if it meant you'd never leave.
dazai already knows you wouldn't, not with the way you held him close to yourself, but with him should precious things never be near.
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synopsis 𓂃𓈒𓍼ོ your gentility, affection, and stupidity has fyodor warning you— in his most cryptically subtle of ways— to stop. because you know better than to make his heart flutter, don’t you? (2k wc)
a/n 𓇢𓆸 this one was a bit very different from the mood i set for the work song fic so i can only hope i did well (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝) work song was very slow and gentle with touches of devotion in between their soft moments, this fic is more faster(?) like the song its based on
content 𓍼ོ𓂃𓈒 jealous fedya at one point, or at least, fedya flavor of jealousy. not too sure how i did with the hozier song references this time but it is based on one ! non-established relationship w/ reader & fyodor, one-sided pining, oblivious reader
Fyodor Dostoevsky watched as his new… acquaintance eyed his face and body. He wouldn’t go so far as to call them his rival. After all, a rival would mean they had an intelligence that challenged his own. And there were only a very, very, very select few worthy of being called his rival.
And no one could ever be called his companion. So that term was thrown out the window too.
Focused yet guarded was their gaze. Akin to a mouse sniffing something new. A smirk quipped over his lips at the comparison. Such a curious creature you were.
Perfect for a cat to swoop in any moment.
Still, despite this brief moment of humor they had brought upon him, Fyodor Dostoevsky knew better than to connect to someone other than the lord or himself. With this, his smile faded away like sand in the wind.
Thankfully, much before the person could even see he had noticed them in the first place.
Your eyes trailed over the sharp expanse of Fyodor’s jaw, followed by a curious peek at the soft skin between the sides of his hair—his ears were unpierced, you noted. Abundant only in snowy skin and the occasional tinge of red amongst the smooth, bony terrain.
“What are you looking at, мышка?”
Flustered by the interruption, your eyes stuttered back onto his actual face. Not only the tiniest details of it. Locking eyes, yours intertwined themselves in his dark burgundy. Like always, they studied you like some subject, some lab rat.
“I’m looking at you.” You decided to disregard any caution and smiled honestly.
Little did you know that that was exactly what caught Fyodor off-guard. A stir rippled within the man’s narrowed gaze, and a curt “I see” was all he gave in return.
Your fingers rose to brush away a black hair strand that irked your tastes — to which he leisurely shifted away from —
“Do be wary of touching me, мышка.” Squinted eyes pinched into a warning glare. “You know better than that, don’t you?” Akin to what you could only imagine his touch felt like, his voice was as sharp and chilling as ice itself.
You shuddered. ‘He’s like frostbite.’ Still, it was nothing new coming from Fyodor. He had always been the kind of man who avoided all levels of physical and emotional connection. All you could do was offer the Russian yet another smile, softer this time — as if coaxing a wild animal.
“I do.”
Frowning lips furthered its sides.
“But you have an ugly piece of hair.” You explained.
His eye twitched. “Ugly?” The Russian repeated with an incredulous grin, sending chills down your back. Despite the ever-lingering frost on your spine, another nod was given, and you leaned in —
“Right…”
Your finger grazed over the stuck strand. His eyes locked onto the reflections in yours.
“… There.”
Cherry wine eyes never looked away. Nor did a hand come up to correct his hair.
He was the kind of man who never needed corrections, after all — especially not from someone as inferior, daft, and naive as you. Don’t take it personally. He had nothing against you. It was simply the truth, as he believed so.
It was just how he was. There was no changing that. And you knew well of that.
“Fyodor?”
A scoff. It was softer this time, though. After what felt like an eternity with the ever-so-silent man, he looked away.
That kind of gesture… was it a sign of something ulterior? His eyes pinched once more.
As shocking a revelation as it may be, you were unabashedly and likely unknowingly, completely genuine about such a simple act — like fixing his hair. The action itself wasn’t what had him so jarred. But the fact that you dared to do so in the first place.
Did you not respect him as you should’ve? No, no… He would’ve seen it in your eyes if you didn’t. And as of right now…
They were painted in strokes of gentle worry, and an internal conflict over whether or not to probe what had led him into such a silent ponder.
‘How intriguing.’
Dipped in pink and tattered at the edges, Fyodor brought a finger along the top of his lips and the rest below to send his acquaintance a deep chuckle.
“No need to fret over me, мышка.”
After all…
You let out a sigh of relief, scratching the side of your jaw with a lightening chuckle. As you droned on about whatever your morning was — Fyodor’s face fell once more.
Who knew what would happen if you showed patience to someone like him?
Cherry wine eyes greeted you with that same, squinted gaze.
You replied with your own version of it, corners shrunken by the weight of a smile.
An overbearing warmth shrouded the black cloak that once billowed atop his frog-buttoned attire. Normally, he would’ve killed anyone over so much as a graze. However, it seemed that time had a way of wading away his impossible patience.
Hence, right now.
The embrace of living warmth held him close like sunlight after rainfall.
He knew himself better than anyone else in the world. Besides God, of course. But even a water-bear would’ve known that you couldn’t hug the man as blatantly as this.
Right?
A single brush of an ice-dipped finger smoothed over your back.
And yet he didn’t budge an inch. Not even a twitch of his lips moved to mock your affection.
Something cold pushed your back until you were flush against each other’s chests.
As you were soaked in the cold skeleton of the Russian, he pierced through your mind like a shot to the head. Why were you hugging him? Did you mean anything behind it? Did you truly understand the severity of this transgression?
Before he can retort with a riddle of an insult— you’re squeezing him even tighter.
Cherry wine eyes fluttered at the alien sight of his body stuck to yours in such a state. The product of his observation only left his lip bitten even more.
What a monster you were for making him break his skin like so. What a monster you were for hugging him so brazenly like this— have you no shame? And oh— what a monster you were for letting go so quickly.
A glare followed your retreating frame, which was bidding him goodbye after such a generosity.
Every tactic he believed you were using had been washed away like sand. He was right from the start— like always— you were, horribly so, genuine with your affections. Though, he supposed you only had yourself to blame for being so generously warm.
A man so devoid of heat himself had begrudgingly been drawn to you. As icy as ever, Fyodor locked onto your ever-so-daft stare with a low voice.
“Your attire is unsuitable for that man.”
As of now, you were getting dressed for a blind date arranged by one of your more hopelessly romantic friends.
For some odd reason, Fyodor was against it. Only slightly though. After all, if he truly was against it, he’d be much more verbal about it.
Wouldn’t he?
“It’s one of my best clothing combinations yet.” You huffed of both pride and irritation.
“Precisely.”
You shot him a glare and an eye-roll, to which he replied with his typical (and very overused) frown. ‘What on earth did that even mean?’ Your fingers twitched in frustration.
“I don’t look cute?”
Blackberry locks swayed as he hummed. “Do not twist my words, мышка.”
Cold perfume settled in tiny pools atop the wrists of your rolled-up sleeves. According to the weather, it’d be a bit of a cloudy day, maybe even with some rain. You briefly considered bringing an umbrella, a hoodie would work well, too.
Though… your umbrella got swept away in the last storm. And wearing a hoodie would tangle up your outfit once you took it off inside the restaurant.
After a few seconds of waiting for the scent to soak into your skin, the Russian spoke again as you readjusted your outfit.
“Do be careful, мышка.” Snowy fingers wrapped around the front doorknob before you could stop him.
A burgundy gaze seeped through yours with a hint of unfamiliar, undetermined, and unrecognizable green.
“I hear there is heavy rain tonight.”
Click.
The man that your friends had set you up with was young at heart. To say the least., to say the least.
He had been rowdy upon entering the restaurant, giving you second-hand embarrassment before even realizing that, oh yes, that was your blind date. The frat boy that was flirting with the waitress via Urban Dictionary pickup lines.
You took a heavy gulp of tea when he was escorted to you. If you weren’t sweating bullets, you would’ve noticed the cringing smiles that the staff were giving you while your little blind date prattled on about his latest party.
He wasn’t mean. Just… on the louder side of things. Like snapping his fingers and his mouth at the waiter. And snorting at an old couple acting affectionate. And spilling his drink all over your clothes…
It was safe to say that this date was a failure. Hence, why you were outside— in the restaurant alleyway— spamming your friends’ group chats with all sorts of cries for help. Most of it was just gibberish, though.
A dollop of water maximized a portion of your screen. Then another. And another.
On your hands. On your clothes, which were still drying from your blind date’s juice. And on your now lagging phone.
“No, no, no…!” Whatever had blurred your vision only stung the inside of your face more.
“Hey, what’s taking so long?”
Oh god. Not him. You didn’t think that someone like him would come out after you. Especially not in this weather—
“Sorry!” You could only clutch and hope that your laugh sounded as convincible as a certain Russian’s silver tongue.
Spinning on your heel to face the college boy, the glitching phone rubbed itself dry on your back as you procured a smile. “Slow connection…”
“Well hurry it up. That check’s not gonna pay for itself, y’know?” You swore you saw red.
As he started to go on and on about how boring of a restaurant this place was and whatnot, the corners of your eyes twitched and rolled in tandem with every damn syllable that fell from that jerk’s accursed lips.
The air of black tea suddenly filled your nostrils. Alongside a familiar chill snaking around your waist snugly.
The rainfall overhead had come to a mysterious halt. Well, not so mysterious anymore since there was the translucence of an umbrella overhead. Returning your gaze to Fyodor, you could’ve sworn there was a patch of something on his furthest shoulder from you.
A curious coo fell from your lips, which you now realized were shivering from the cold. If you listened closely enough, a desperate wisp of wind could heard. Just faintly.
Didn’t you understand how special you were?
Lacking any sort of cautious resolve, you slowly looked up with a small sniff. The Russian always radiated the smell of black tea. Though, on more than a few occasions you’d catch a whiff of wine or, very oddly enough, iron.
Didn’t you understand how he wanted you?
Cherry wine eyes raked over your form as he intertwined both of your hands together— and without so much as a second thought, like you— he let you.
Didn’t you understand what you were doing to him?
“How are you tonight?” The confused barks of your blind date buzzed into nothing. All while you giggled at the absurdness of his arrival. How had he come so quickly? You guessed that you must’ve panic-texted Fyodor as well when spamming your hopeless companions.
Didn’t you realize he was giving you more than he’d ever given anyone before?
To speak to him so casually, without meaning any disrespect… One could only have nightmares of talking to him like that.
Didn’t you understand?
Burgundy lamps fluttered again before closing, shielding themselves from your unabashed face. “I am much better now, дорогая. Especially with a scent as tender as yours.”
Something cold pushed you to follow suit as the two of you exited the dark alleyway. An eyebrow was raised at the compliment. The rain should’ve washed away all traces of your perfume.
The Russian’s eyes never left your side as you shrugged it off. ‘What a weird guy.’
Didn’t you know better?
taglist࣪ ִֶָ☾. @aureatchi @soleelia + to be included please comment until i figure out how to work a google form !
translations ! (these are rough translations, and if there are any inaccuracies please let me know)
мышка - 'mouse' classic nickname for fyodor to use, but it lacks intimacy and tells of how inferior he views reader
дорогая - ‘darling' obviously not the same as мышка, hrmm i wonder why
thank you so much to @guacamoleroll for betareading once again !!! they are quite literally my knight in shining armor (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡
another thanks to @/saradika-graphics for all the wonderful dividers ! the images in between were either found on pinterest or edited by yours truly <3 thank you for reading !
