#some of us...yearn...more than others 😏

[petiolata]

If i got word they were putting Amtrak (or any passenger train service) through my town im pretty sure id just like. spontaneously cum in my pants.

Sorry. Tmi, but it's the truth.

[anticidic]

Ahhhhh~ Belladonna! 🌹So we meet again.

I’ve come to sing your praises and gift you a rose as sweet as your name penned into prose. 😏

You move hearts, your art of words building visions beyond our wildest dreams; you could make anyone recite poems to.

But alas, my time here is borrowed (I can only sit in your inbox for so long 💀) and I’ve come with a challenge for you. Beyond the ocean and far away from fairytales, dare to inspire yourself and us too.

“❛ I would destroy myself to fix you. ❜”

#prompt heroxvillain sentence starter

(Everytime I see Dazai in your PFP I have to be dramatic 💀 sorry, not sorry)

THE DAZAI GIF JUMPSCARE WHEN I OPENED THISSSS 😭✋ This was so cute though, omg.

Also me: challenge accepted (gonna hide some of this under the cut because wtf I wrote like 900 words)

GRAVE FLOWERS

He would destroy himself the same way the flowers would come winter. Seasons changed. Leaves upon trees turned from pink to green to yellow to dead. They fell in piles where children jumped, and even now, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, the sound remained a little jingle in his mind's attic. The sound of the beginning. But his end would come. Only so much could be destroyed before nothing remained. Chuuya thought his heart concrete and impenetrable, but the cracks were there. The cracks were all there ever was. What mattered was how long it would be before it crumbled to dust and a wonder of how much more he could withstand.

A gray rain fell on Yokohama. The city soaked in it, cold and dripping. Waves hit concrete breakers, homeless huddled by the fires behind the fences—the cinders he tapped away from the end of his cigarette the last dash of color on the world. And there was Dazai standing before him with the same boyish grin he had the day they met many springs ago on the highest mountain peak, all alone. He looked a little more human than usual, and it could’ve fooled Chuuya.

No, it did. Chuuya smiled back. He couldn’t help himself even as he took a drag.

Mist clouded his vision, and he wiped away the droplets that struck his cheek. Once he smelled the earth and felt the dirt beneath his fingernails as he chased Dazai through the fields, trampling flowers and kicking up puddles that scared nesting birds away. He did it with a laugh so breathless his lungs were on fire then, and each time he reached out to grab a handful of Dazai’s sleeve with a ‘gotcha!’, Dazai disappeared.

And left him all alone in the meadow.

The laughter withered up and died and it hurt. Something stung his eyes, the damn salt of the sea, as he flicked away a stray tear. Wildlife returned to the forest: a doe and a fawn, their heads held low to the wet grass, disinterested. Sad, even. An owl hooted from afar. He felt the eyes of a family of birds staring back at him, all ten eyes in silence.

Chuuya sighed then and crushed the flowers he still had in one fist. He tossed them to the ground and watched how petals drifted away in the breeze, into holes dug by chipmunks.

Now, Dazai stood proud and tall before him. Unbothered. He had his hands hidden in his sleeves, whether by habit or hiding the ugly truth. Chuuya used to yearn for that burning truth, but now that it was his, he ached to turn back time to that one spring many months ago when they only knew each other by name and knew not the rift that would separate them from now until the end.

Dazai’s story would continue, ceaselessly, and Chuuya’s would end someday. He took solace in knowing that it was not this fine, rainy day, and smiled through that. Along with that smile, another tired exhale releasing smoke into the air.

Maybe if he sickened himself on high-tar content until it made his throat raw and he became dizzy, he’d see the most beautiful sight he longed for since they last saw one another: nine tails white as snow, dipped in blue. But for now, Dazai was but a man no older than Chuuya. An ancient and sunken ruin of a man where history went to die, and much as Chuuya tried to pry it from Dazai’s lips, words never followed. Chuuya wouldn’t like what the past used to be like, with war-torn buildings and roaring fires razing nature to the ground. But his mind swam, drowning in colorful visuals of carnage and men dying and horses shrieking, black soil. Dazai was once part of that forgotten past, and Chuuya helped bring him back to life. Though he lived for centuries, it had not been kind to him. The weariness in Dazai’s eyes came and went in flickers the same way his tails did. All part of the grand illusion.

The wind picked up. Fine sea foam lashed Chuuya’s face. And it felt like needles.

Today the makeshift consolations: the shared cigarette, the jokes cast out to sea as they huddled under an umbrella for safety. Today the embrace before hurting.

He knew this; he accepted this when their fates became entwined and now, they were a spiderweb of glass that was painful to look at—just two twin stars burning out in the darkness.

Wood hit cobblestone, one-two step, and he looked up to see Dazai extending a hand out to him, whispering against the downpour, “Gotcha.”

Dazai was not human, but he was human enough. Together, there were many more chapters for them to fill in. It began with Dazai bastardized as a thing of nightmares and today, it blossomed like the sweetest rose. He was a living memory, and Chuuya was glad to be a part of that.

[in-flvx]

17, 19, 24 🥰😏

17 - there should be more of this kind of fic/art

Very easy: I yearn for more fics in which Sirius runs away from home without the security net of James and alphards inheritance. Let my boy suffer and struggle, let him experience homelessness when he speaks the poshest RP, let him take odd jobs to survive, make him do sex work.

19 - you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

Honestly I refuse to be ashamed of things I like in fandom. We embrace the cringe here!

Though sometimes I have to begrudgingly go back and read fics that are well written even if I dislike some of the tropes or characterizations lol

24 - topic that brings out the most rancid discourse

Okay the answer is kinda two-fold. One is smth that annoys me on the discourse level: try to discuss the impact of anything Remus did and you get hit with several essays about why he is not to be held responsible for any of them bc of external circumstances. Meanwhile nothing Sirius does gets to get excused on a similar level and he generally gets less empathy and instead gets held responsible for things no one else would be held responsible for.

The other one is way more rancid on a interpersonal level: the height thing.

(For one thing it often seems to be used as code for top/bottom discourses that are so tired and just don't serve anything other than 'I want my blorbo to be fucked'.)

For another, and way more important, thing: no amount of preference for either version is ground to send death threads, trying to ban accounts, or other forms of trolling! Ever!

Like, can yall not read someones post about yearning for an unpopular version of a character, just decide you don't want to see that kind of content, maybe whine to friends about it, and then. Move on? This is very much directed to people whose preference falls in line with popular depictions of a character and who then freak out when a few fans depict them differently. This is not acceptable fandom (or general) behaviour!

[sitp-recs]

Do I Make You Cringe? by @graymatters

Harry/Draco (2020, Mature, 4.7k)

Harry and Draco play for the Falmouth Falcons, a professional quidditch team known for its questionable sportsmanship. While they've been sleeping together casually for months, Draco wonders if Harry's means of coping with his past might prevent them from having more.

Occasionally, Draco finds his judgment clouded by thoughts of a slow morning in bed, tangled limbs on the sofa or whispered secrets in the dark. Unwilling to process their implications, he dismisses them quickly, shoving them deep in the recesses of his mind like a boggart in a closet.

Happy happy birthday @graymatters! A little birdie told me today was your day and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to rec this wonderful fic that I’ve revisited just recently. Friends with benefits my beloved!! Everyone and their mom knows I’m utterly gone for this trope - and I happen to love Quidditch players just as much, so of course this would be right up my alley! Pretty much like every Sara fic, this pulled me into this universe immediately: the atmosphere is so lively and dynamic, the fun camaraderie among the team players, the competition thrill helping build anticipation, and gosh am I here for beater Harry! Not a concept we see often in fic - if ever - but I love how it allows him and Draco to play for the same team (in more ways than one 😏) and forges a type of dynamic that leans more towards friendship than rivalry. The fact that Draco’s opening line is “Yes or no, Potter?” as he finishes undressing lives rent free in my head, what a way to set up the casual and sexy tone!!

What I love about this fic is how effortlessly Sara established their chemistry, a mix of fond familiarity and intimacy while still being casual. Casual lovers with feels is my new fave trope, everyone else can go home 🙌 I love the soft urgency of them falling together, it feels very organic but there’s delicious pining underneath, the yearning so careful as not to ruin what is already there. You’ll also find here a few of my (other) favorite things such as: TATTOOED HARRY (!!!), locker room UST, supportive Ron, angry Harry against the world (always a bonus in my book) and finding himself at Draco’s doorstep, falling in bed together and the first “stay” request ahh I love it so much. These characters are tender to each other and yet full of fire and personality, just the way I adore.

This is a beautiful story that combines fun and sexy times with sweet domesticity and a very interesting glimpse of Harry’s vulnerable side and how he’s poorly managing the war trauma. And our smitten Draco sees it and reaches out in an exchange that made my heart ache. The ending may feel open and bittersweet for some people but I thought it was perfect for this story because it highlights the deeper understanding they share. Sex is fun and all but get yourself someone that sees Harry like Draco does 😔🙌

Thank you so much for sharing this lovely fic and so many others with us, Sara - by the way you guys should check @sweet-s0rr0w’s Five Faves post right now for more recs!! - it’s been wonderful to follow your writing and we love having you in the Drarry community! I hope you have a wonderful day, HBD!!! 🎉💛

Read on AO3

[sif-the-tsunami]

What about Geralt getting "cursed" by some witch that took offence to him not accepting her advances so she makes him get a boner for the next person that talks to him and only that person can alleviate it. Such as the unfortunate new bar maid at the tavern that he visits for a quick bite of dinner. 😏

Have fun! 😘

-🍑

I'm so excited for this! You come up with some really fantastic ideas! I hope you love this one as much as I do, I wanted it to be extra special just for you.

Warnings: Smutty McSmut Smut, vaginal and oral. Male masturbation. There will be some sassing and in Witcher canon, Geralt is nearly assaulted by women who view Witchers as sexual novelties. In the show, Geralt is fetishized. So I want to play off of that. If this triggers you, I don’t want to ruin your day with a short story, so please take care of yourself and I will definitely post more Geralt fluff another day. I’m sorry, and I do care about your wellbeing. 

Geralt caught himself muttering under his breath. He was miserable after fulfilling yet another contract. While there were always someone who needed something from him, the wild witches were always the worst. The Witcher only wanted to be paid in gold coins or valuable goods. Sex was not an acceptable form of currency. And while Geralt generally enjoys the company of women, even paid for the pleasure of some women’s company, he doesn’t enjoy when things are demanded of him. The witch of the woods, instead of paying him with ingredients or coinage, placed a lust enchantment on the White Wolf when he declined her initial offer of the use of her body. He was polite about it as possible, but being told no made her sneer at him with malice. 

While the Wolf wasn’t entirely sure about what the parameters of the enchantment entailed, he could feel a dull, gradually increasing ache that was going to become unbearable. Geralt hadn’t caught the entire spell she cast, or he would be able to address the nature of the hex before it became too inconvenient for him. He was entirely grumpy by the time he made it to his rented room at the tavern.

Geralt was beginning to feel feral. An unnatural urge was beginning to take over him, he kicked his boots off and pealed off his skin tight britches. In one of the pouches in his packs, he carried with him a small vial of oil that smelled vaguely of herbs and musk. He applied a decent amount onto his palm, then started to massage and manhandle himself. He coaxed an orgasm out of himself quickly, like one is apt to do by themselves. The peace that it brought was short-lived unfortunately. A few moments after he cleaned himself up, he observed his growing discomfort. With another application of the oil, Geralt laid back on the bed and thought of Yennifer.

However this time took considerably longer. He was not thrilled by how long he was laid up, but the pleasure took him and made him comfortably numb for a few moments. He remained in his bed feeling vaguely lonely. He got himself dressed and walked down to the tavern. He was becoming irate and thought that some ale might give him a different kind of relief. He was thankful for the fullness of his cloak that evening, he kept himself covered awkwardly.

Once he arrived at the bar to order his drink, perhaps some dinner, he met a sweet young woman who smiled at him. It was rare for people to treat him like he was anything other than a freak or a novelty. His soul yearned for someone who wanted to be around him because they simply enjoyed his company. Jaskier, gods love him, sometimes seemed to want to be around Geralt for the songs he could write, like he had monetized their friendship. But the woman who brought him his beverage didn’t ooh and ahh at his profession, she didn’t gape at him or even complain that he smells like monster blood. She was friendly to him in a way he wasn’t prepared for, she made him feel like he was welcome and wanted there. 

She brought him a soup with beef and leeks, and loaf of dark brown bread with some fresh butter. She smiled at him, and Geralt felt himself blush a little. The White Wolf watched her interactions with other patrons. It was interesting to him see that she wasn’t as warm with some of them. After having interacted with her more than once, he felt a inkling that perhaps her kindness was more than just regular hospitality. 

She stopped by his perch a few more times and offered to bring him more bread to finish mopping up the broth. Some of the men in the tavern would get a little handsy or snarky with the woman, she seemed to be able to blow off whatever kind of attitude that was thrown her way effortlessly. It was amusing to watch her. the action of the tavern slowly brought itself to a close and the patrons left to their homes. Before long the distant rumble of thunder and the down pour of rain came in though the windows.

Geralt watched the young woman sigh deeply. “My lady, you seem to be distressed.”

“It will just be a long, cold, walk to my cottage. I don’t look forward to making the trek.”

“I could walk with you, or let you ride on my horse if you would prefer not to get muddy.” The witcher offered.

“That is very kind of you, but I don’t want to be a burden on you. Besides, I know the inn keeper, I can take a quiet corner to sleep in here.”

“I have a room here, it would be warmer and considerably more comfortable than a corner. I promise that I will be nothing but respectful, I can sleep on the floor myself. I’m used to sleeping in places far less luxurious.”

The two talked while she cleaned up. Geralt kept his cloak covering himself as the woman grabbed a bottle and two small cups. All it took was half a bottle for the young woman to end up sitting in the Witcher’s lap. By the time it was empty, she was kissing the white haired man aggressively. 

Geralt worried about what would happen if he told her about the curse he was under, but the man needed with his whole body to feel her against him. There was nothing else on the Continent that he wanted more was the girl sitting on his lap, damn near grinding against him. The woman pulled her skirts up around her hips and was practically whimpering for him to return her advances. At first he slid a hand between her legs to help her get ready for what they both wanted.

Without too much exertion, Geralt lifted the barmaid up with him and set her on the bed in his room. Kneeling between her thighs, putting one of her legs over his shoulder to get deeper, he dove head first into her secret garden. The woman in his bed moaned and gasped his name as he brought waves of pleasure. Geralt watched as her body writhed.

“Are you ready? Are you ready for me, sweetness?” The Witcher asked raising himself up, sliding his pants down his hips.

The beautiful woman in his bed nodded, gasping. The White Wolf slid himself into her, sensually. He pumped himself into his willing conquest. She ripped at his shirt and clawed at him like a wild animal. Soon their bodies peaked in pleasure, he yelled as he emptied himself inside of her. They lay together on the bed, tangled in her skirts and each other’s limbs. 

“You should teach lessons, Geralt. Charge a gold coin for every student.” The barmaid said, causing the large man to chuckle. Getting a laugh out of the Wolf was never an easy feat, however, he found that joy seemed to radiate from his bedmate. Being relaxed with her was as easy as breathing, but he knew this would not and could not last. She deserved a man who would be content with hunting game for her table, collecting wood for her fire, and not feel the constrictions of domesticity. While Geralt dreamed of being able to have that kind of life one day, he knew that he was too damaged inside to give it to her. He had been too lonely for too long.

“I don’t think most men have a Witcher’s stamina, although, I would feel bad for most women if they did. The men in most places don’t know there own ass from a hole in the ground.”

“Here, help me out of this dress, lets get comfortable.”

The two of them reveled in their passions a few more times that night. While she wasn't exactly insatiable, he felt like she was easily out pace him. One of the benefits of youth, he mused. When he woke up the next morning, the young woman was singing as she brushed her hair out. 

“Cast not your eyes upon him, lest he kiss you with his sword Lay not your heart against him or your lips to ease his roar For the song of the White Wolf will always be sung alone”

It was gently and soft. Just to amuse herself more than him. But her voice was clear like a bell. “I’m sorry Witcher, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just had it stuck in my head this morning when the sun came through the window. I had wanted to be out of your hair before you had woken up. Didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“I wouldn’t have kicked you out either way. But I am familiar with what happens to the women who have been found sneaking out of my room in the morning.”

“Were this a perfect world, I would make you a breakfast with honey cakes, sausage, maybe hot chocolate. You deserve someone who would take care of you, Geralt,” she said, coming up to him and touching his face. She placed a kiss on his forehead, tenderly. “You are a good man, rest while you can. You have monsters you still have to slay.”

Geralt drifted back to sleep for a while, unaware that her earnest desire for him to be happy broke the enchantment that had been plaguing him from the day before. Some times, all it takes is a simple kiss to lift a curse.

[frannyzooey]

Kelli, it's almost difficult to find a piece to ask your commentary about because we've discussed the behind the scenes, so to speak, of so many of my favourite things already; TMTC Henhouse and The Lesson, Mr. The Stranger 👀, Dave's respective partnerships, fog Marcus who deserves a vacation 🥺, so...... Good thing I said almost 😏 I will find stuff to ask you about!!!!!! *puts on baseball tee with a "Kelli frannyzooey Fanclub" print on it*

Okay, so, can you maybe tell us more about the idea behind Din's punishment for Gracie in my second favourite TMTC chapter: The Camping Trip? Because not a day goes by that I don't think about...

Pulling away from you, her mouth shiny with arousal, she closes her eyes in a frown. “I’m – I’m gonna come, Din; I’m gonna come.” Rocking herself back onto him, she lets out a hoarse cry when he pulls his hand away from her clit and pulls out of her.

“No you’re not”, he says harshly. His hands painfully curled around her hips, he tells her that she can only come when you do and you can tell instantly that this is punishment for her trick earlier; that this was his plan all along.

“Let me see you make my girl come, Gracie. If you’re a good girl and you do it, I’ll let you come on my cock.” At the last part of the sentence, Din presses just the thick tip of himself into her and she whimpers yes while reaching for you again.

And while we're on the subject, might as well ask about Want, because... god ♥ I would love to hear more about why you structured it the way you did (the kiss-touch-taste structure) and how that came about... oh, and maybe tell me more about this? *melts*

The point of a kiss was to show someone you loved them, wasn’t it? Doesn’t it count more that she loves you more than anyone, as her best friend? Her other friends have brought boys behind their barns for a kiss and they don’t love them like she loves you — wouldn’t that make her want something more precious? more deserving? more right?

The thought of kissing you haunts her — it’s all she can think about; the plush give of your lips, the slip of your tongue, the taste of your mouth and she’s pretty sure she’s seen the same hunger in you, the way your gaze rests on her face, her delicate collarbone, the neckline of her dress when you spend your afternoons together.

okay so I’m fully weepy that you mentioned so many of my fics as things we’ve already discussed, because 1) it reminds me of how good of friends we are and how lucky I am to have found you on here and ❤️ 2) I’m all soft at knowing those are some of your favorites 🥺

1) okay your first ask — The Camping Trip 💀

when I wrote that chapter, I was a little self conscious about how long it is in comparison to the other brothel chapters and I thought for sure I was just being overly indulgent with how much filth I was cramming into that installment but YOU KNOW WHAT? the amount of people who have said it’s one of their favorite chapters for this scene alone makes it all worth it 😌

earlier in the chapter, din is so playful with gracie all afternoon — bringing her on this trip, swimming with her all afternoon, indulging her excitement and request for a real adventure of her own, listening to her scary stories by the camp fire — but in the TENT

the tent is where he takes the control back, it’s where he reminds girl and gracie who is really in charge, it’s where he asserts his role in the situation after taking a backseat all afternoon and shows them that while he is a sweet, caring man who will let them have their fun, he’s also a tease who can pull your feet out from you at any second — similar to maybe how he would treat a bounty; letting them believe they’ve got away while he waits for the right time to show them they didn’t

2) oh god Want is so close to my heart — I just kept thinking about the deep, almost obsessive yearning you feel when you fall in love for the first time or the ache of that first true pang of lust and how thoughts of that person would drive you crazy

and here, where what gracie feels is frowned upon (to put it lightly) by society, she really wonders — what is so wrong about loving another woman? when you think about what it means to love, why does it matter that they are both girls?

as far as the structure of it, I tried to think of the path of a real relationship, especially one born of a hesitancy — first you can’t stop thinking about them, then when you know they feel the same way you kiss them, then just a touch, etc.

anyone new to anything physical with someone would take it slow, their body unconsciously acting as they kissed first, before a slow exploration of boundaries with their hands and then finally a taste; the thing they’ve both been wanting for so long, but probably the most intimate, vulnerable thing they could do with each other.

thank you for asking about these 🥺❤️

director’s cut ask game — ask me about a scene!

[aiyexayen]

AAAAA THANK YOU FOR MY LIFE

i gotta put this under a read more because i want to GUSH about this DELICIOUS FOOD you have cooked up in response to my rareship yearning tags.

liu qianqiao being the one to teach wen kexing the art of pleasure? [chef's kiss] i love that he approached her as a student to a master of just one more kind of weapon he could turn himself into along with all the other assortment of skills he picked up in gui gu.

"both masters of deception and disguise, unable to fully embrace those they truly wanted" HHHHHHHH i am living for how MUCH is said with just this line. this is 'pining while fucking' in the most twisty whumpy way it's proxyfucking with terrifying realism and just, yes. they WOULD. how does one even fall into the knowledge and opportunity to make such a transaction?! it's so very zishu and qianqiao to manage it somehow. this is so much of what i love about these two, their strengths and their mastery over such similar realms of observation and deception and disguise, even if they have often used these skills to such different ends.

"zishu simply loved him" just absolutely caught my heart. just. yes. i love the way ying'er's regard for zishu is framed through kexing's perspective on it (that he finds it captivating) while zishu's regard for ying'er is framed through how kexing *influenced* it (that he induced it to grow and develop). it's such subtle framing that expresses and revels in the joints and connections between the characters really beautifully.

👏👏👏 han ying teasing wen kexing back is my JAM. and the fact that THAT is what gets zishu to concede is. yes. yes! i love the range hanwen have, from the flavour of teasing to the flavour of submission and lust.

"they have all had their challenges with love and betrayal, devotion and disillusionment" 😩🥺❤️ they HAVE and it makes it all SO compelling. also as someone for whom brevity is a sadly distant acquaintance, i admire all this snappy and evocative writing.

"guzhu-furen" 😂 is excellent. how easily they fall in step with one another by this point, picking up on the game and stepping into the roles. i like the way kexing and ying'er so quickly put themselves on display, put on a show for zishu. that's very hot of them.

"They would be gone by morning, but the act of tending them helps settle Zishu." <- WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOMENT OF CHARctERISATION 😭❤️ it says SO MUCH about his brand of tenderness and care and how he shows it toward the ones he loves. drawing on the physicality of him and how much he shows more than speaks his care, especially with his touch. and it settles him, to not only see those he cares about taken care of, but to take care of them himself. to tend the wounds himself, even unnecessarily. to feel like he is helping, healing, growing, that his hands are doing more than bringing destruction, that even for all the loved ones he's failed he can still do right by one more.

:chinhands: i fucking adore all their banter at the end there. what absolute dorks. the amusement. the fondness. the playful nonsense. the comfortable openness of discussing such desires with one another. han ying being bold. wen kexing being a menace. zhou zishu being a gremlin right back. AND THEN THEY CUDDLED. and dreamed sweet dreams of a fourth~

and qianqiao is not out there completely innocent in all this, she's the one dressing han ying up like that before sending him off to his lovers. she's so complicit in some way or another i just know it 😏

seriously what a TREAT what a DELIGHT you may not have written this for me but boy do me and my specific rareship tastes feel so catered to right now. 12/10 impeccable vibes.

i am having liu qianqiao feelings today.