#and ik she likes my writing

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.” 

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 

Then it was your turn to gasp. 

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

[hatkuu]

wow no one has mentioned this yet????? ig i’ll be the FREAK to do it: vamp!kylar will absolutely eat the hell out of u when u have ur period 🧛 he can probably smell when it’s approaching too and gets so excited. esp bc he gets so fixated on when ur ovulating so when he knows ur period is coming he’s like a fruit fly and starts rubbing his hands together all giddy like

- 🎀

oh my gosh yes. yes. i was too embarrassed to write about it but. period sex with ANY kylar constantly floats around my brain. vampire kylar would be sucking on his fingers like he'd just ate a drumstick from kfc. finger licking good HAHSJSJAK

afab reader, period sex, period mentions, reader wears a skirt, general creepy kylar stuff., kylar's weird scent kink thing is in this too...

drabble continued utc!

I think the first time you're having a period with your freakish vampire boyfriend around - he's visibly on edge. Kylar's gnawing at the palm of his hand while sitting next to you in the cafeteria, sweating as his other hand grips on the sleeve of his hoodie. You note that he is looking at everything and everyone except you.

You'll reach out to touch him, placing a reassuring hand on Kylar's shoulder.

"Are you okay, Kylar?"

Kylar flinches back like you've just burned him - eyes bulging out of his head as his hands quickly shield his face from view.

"Y-Yes! I-I'm fine! J-Just—"

He peeks at you through his fingers, pupils dilated until only a sliver of green remains.

"—I-It's just really hot i-in here."

You throw him a weird look, rolling your eyes as you stand up from the cafeteria table. You absolutely cannot deal with this shit right now. Being hit with wave after wave of crippling cramps, the last thing you needed was your boyfriend being noticeably disgusted with you. You shuffle awkwardy, trying not to cause yourself more pain as you stand. Does Kylar hate you now? Is he scared of you? Fuck, you don't know if your irritability is stemming from the slick, sticky blood feeling between your thighs or your boyfriend - lost in his own little world - ignoring you when you need him most.

A strangled, panicked sound escapes Kylar as you stand. The hand covering his face reaches outward, snatching your wrist with a disturbing amount of strength. You try to slip out of his grip - upset that now he wants to touch you - but he does not relinquish his hold no matter how much you tug against it. He exhales shakily, his nails dig into you - they've gotten long - really long.

"Y-You can't go— You can't."

You try to pull away with more force, spluttering with confusion as Kylar refutes your struggle with ease. He can't possibly be jealous - you've spent almost the entirety of this week with him - he's staring at you with this horrible, anguished expression. It's the last thing you want to see today. Your bottom lip twitches beneath your teeth, tears pricking your eyes in frustration.

"Kylar! Stop being so weird— What is wrong with you today?"

Your scuffle turn heads. You can feel so many eyes on you, looking at you and Kylar, laughing as they see Kylar's hand is latched onto your wrist. Only then do you notice the gaunt, sickly shade of his face. Heavy, darkened bags rest under his eyes. His lips are chapped too, more than they usually are. Speckled bits of dried blood rest in between the grooves of each crack. Kylar twitches, sweat slicking his choppily-cut fringe to his forehead. He looks ill. He tugs you closer, talking in a low tone that makes your stomach churn.

"You're— You're on your period."

What. The. Fuck.

You don't remember telling him it was that time of the month? How does he know—

"W-What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"J-Just— c-come with me—"

He breathes in shakily, composing himself as his eyes trail up your form, lingering far too long on the juncture between your shoulder and neck. He stands to meet your height, breathing heavily as you flood his senses with a scent that is so undeniably you. Sweet, but not too sweet. It makes his body buzz with a sickeningly fuzzy feeling. His mouth fills with sailva as you hold his gaze, scrutinizing him with your cutely furrowed brows and a jutted-out bottom lip.

"I-I need to tell you something."

You can see the desperation in his expression. His other hand shakes at his side, aching to latch onto you and never let go. Festering like a fresh wound, Kylar's carnal urges get the better of him. His other hand grabs your shoulder, pushing you closer towards his chest.

He smells different. Like dust, dirt and nothing all at once. He doesn't smell like garlic and pepper. Normally, you're assaulted with the scent of the plants - but strangely - it's gone entirely. You look up at Kylar, brows still furrowed in confusion because this is your boyfriend but... something is inherently wrong about him.

Kylar tugs you out of the cafeteria.

You don't struggle.

-

"I-I need to taste you—"

"H-Huh?"

Kylar pushes you into the dilapidated storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him as he grapples you against the wall, panting against your mouth.

"I haven't— You smell so good, a-and I just need this," He cuts himself off, snapping his gaze toward you incredulously from his position against you. He visibly shudders, twitching as he falls forward onto his knees, grounding himself between your thighs. He eagerly tugs your school skirt down, panting as he is met with your panties. "I-I need this. N-Need to feed f-from you— no one else."

"W-What! Kylar! We are in school right now! It'll be too messy a-and it'll get all over you-"

You choose to ignore your boyfriend's weird phrasing of eating you out. 'Feeding' from you is new.

His forehead rests heavy against your swollen uterus - you don't know what he's doing - until Kylar leans closer to your clothed pussy and begins sniffing you. Sniffing you - and moaning like he should have gotten between your thighs the moment you sat next to him in the cafeteria. You squeak, latching your hands in his hair in a pathetic attempt to steer him away from your bloodied thighs. Your tightened grip doesn't deter Kylar. He groans loudly, unashamed as he tilts into your touch, panting puffs of hot wet air against your skin.

"Y-Yes! Oh, y-you have to let me— you smell so perfect, j-just—ah—just let me taste you,"

He's so close, so close to snapping and just biting into the soft skin of your thighs. His eyes dart between your face and your clothed heat. His jaw is clenched tight, gnawing at the skin on the inside of his cheeks. Strained to the last thread of his patience, Kylar lets out a hoarse, weak sound. His fingernails jab painfully into your thighs, carnal desperation evident in each action. Despite this, he looks up to you, teary eyed from the struggle of holding himself back.

"P-Please."

You nod, loosening your grip in Kylar's hair as he practically vibrates with excitement. He tugs down your panties, eyeing the pad that sits at the seat of them as his tongue slides over his bottom lip hungrily. You whine as his fingers nestle themselves against your overly sensitive folds. Slick with blood and wetness, Kylar's fingers prod at your folds, eagerly pressing against the spots that make your knees weaken against his hold.

Kylar's tongue inches out to lave at the smeared blood across your inner thigh, moaning at the taste. He latches onto you, lips forming a tight seal against blood-slick skin, mixing red with clear saliva as Kylar's teeth brush against you. Two particularly sharp teeth nick your inner thigh and you tug his head backward as his fingers continue softly rubbing at your clit. He presses an apologetic kiss to the wound, affectionately licking at the punctures, careful not to let any of the blood spill onto your white school shirt.

"I-I knew it'd be good—" He gasps, his mouth and wet tongue making quick work of your other blood-smeared thigh. "Y-You're so—ah—so, so, delicious, my love."

You blush, opening your eyes to look down at your boyfriend. Kylar's still twitching with excitement, tongue hanging out in anticipation as he nears your pussy. You whine weakly, pulling on his hair as dull throbbing cramps torment your lower abdomen. Kylar smiles at you, eyes much brighter - looking far less ill than before, too. He pulls his fingers away, admiring the sticky sheen of blood that coats them before quickly popping the digits into his mouth and moaning at the taste. He pushes you backward against the wall of the closet, spreading your thighs wide enough for his head to fit snugly between them.

He licks a stripe against the seam of your folds, eagerly lapping up the blend of arousal and blood. Your hands weave in his hair, pushing his nose against your clit as Kylar laves at your pussy, humming as your thighs trap him against your heat. Kylar groans, savouring the sweet, metallic taste of you against his tongue. He pushes closer, nestling his nose against your clit just close enough that with each press of his tongue against your entrance you cry out in pleasure, hands tightening in his dark hair. Kylar fucks you with his tongue until you're sobbing, wrapping an arm around each thigh to hold you firm against his mouth.

He moans as you grind against his tongue, chasing your release that hums deep within your core. Your grinding stutters as the coil burns hot within your stomach, tightening until it snaps.

You cry out as you cum, squirming as Kylar continues to hold you against his face. He groans, lapping up your arousal as it seeps onto his tongue. Your thighs clench against his head, quivering as Kylar slows his licking into gentle, loving laves against your pussy. He smiles as your hands fall from his hair. Kylar presses a loving kiss to your pussy, inching upward to press a kiss against your bloated abdomen as well. Even though he just gave you the most intense orgasm of your life, he's still so intimate with each of his actions, no matter how lewd or messy.

He pulls up your panties, your skirt, and readjusts the rest of your clothes before fixing his own.

Kylar stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then licking up the blood collected on it. He looks undeniably better than before; gone is the sickly tone of his skin, the heavy bags under his eyes, and now his eyes hold a twinkle that doesn't falter. He helps you up with ease, pulling you into his chest and nuzzling into your neck.

"Thank you," He whispers, smiling against your neck, pressing soft, affectionate kisses to the damp skin. You return his embrace even as your legs still tremble from the onslaught of pleasure Kylar gave you. You feel better now. Your boyfriend isn't disgusted at you. Quite far from it, actually. So you'll ignore that his teeth are sharper, that his skin is as cold as a cadaver's, that you swear his eyes were red at one point. He's your boyfriend. His strange, newfound affliction for blood doesn't mean anything. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, breathing in his new scent of dirt, dust and nothingness. He giggles at your newfound neediness, rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

"Let's do this again tonight, okay?"

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Sacrificial Lamb

another little symbolism moment with my oc inquisitor maera modeled on 'innocence' by William Adolphe-Bougueraeu

[lazy--lillies]

Ok so my Piper post was written on my phone and I didn't phrase it properly but I do want to talk abt her and Helen of Sparta's parallels bc- ohhhh boy.

So first of all, her being sent to boarding school. Now, this was a bad writing decision for Rick to make with his one Native character, but other people have talked abt why that was problematic so I'm just going to get this point out of the way bc unfortunately it's part of the plot and there's no undoing that. This could've been such a good initial parallel between the two. Helen of Sparta, forever known as Helen of Troy because of a marriage caused by a spell of Aphrodite. There was so much he could've done with Piper feeling out of place, and her wondering about the woman who used to own her knife. He gave her all this extensive knowledge of Greek mythology and then never let her put it to practical use. Bullshit! Piper being forced away from her home due to the designs of the gods (one god in particular - but I'll get to that in a minute) should've come into play from minute one.

Two: her beauty. Now, Piper is shown as the strongest and most "Aphrodite-esque" of her children. Her eyes change colours like her mom's (another bad writing choice, but I'm going by canon so just work w me here guys), her charmspeak abilities, and just the general role she takes up in the Aphrodite cabin with all her siblings. Hell, she's constantly being asked by random gods to be their bride and/or queen because she's just that beautiful. Unfortunately, because of the general writing of her character, this natural beauty comes off as being pick-me instead of an inherited trait from her mother. I genuinely hate the way Rick wrote her beauty because it could have been utilised so much better. If we're continuing with her Helen parallels, she should have made men drop when they saw her. Don't make her a bullied girl who doesn't know her beauty, there are already plenty of characters who were like that in the series. Instead she could still have been bullied by girls who were jealous of her, but have people know that she's beautiful. Have her know that she's beautiful, and let her be uncomfortable with that! Have it make boys have to look twice to make sure she's real, have girls jaws drop when they see her. Percy and Jason get all these godly comparisons with their looks, why not Piper? Have people genuinely think she's an immortal when they first see her because she's so gorgeous. Make her be mistaken for Aphrodite! If you want to really spice things up, add that to her mommy issues! There were so many options with her inherited traits from her mom, and instead they were just used to excuse the weird lusting after her that the men in the narrative and the narrative itself does with her, which is disgusting considering she's only 15.

Also, Sparta being such a famous place for it's war tactics. It being Helen's birth place. Aphrodite being a war goddess. One of Piper's main wishes being to be seen for more than her beauty, but for her strength in battle. Helen, who is only famous for her beauty, originating from a place famous only for it's lust for war. The way that we wish to be perceived versus the way we will eventually be known. Piper trying so hard to run away from Helen's fate and yet being unable to escape it. That fate mirroring the current perception of her mother. Her mother knowing this and being the key if Piper wishes to break the cycle. I could go on abt this but this post is already so long so I think you guys get the point.

Three: her relationship with Jason. So I didn't really explain this in the og post, but her being a lesbian from the start is kind of just necessary for this plot to work in my mind. She got retconned into being gay which pisses me off, but I won't say she wasn't queer coded in the og HOO series because she definitely was, even if I hate the way it was made canon.

This one is definitely going to be my longest point. From the start, her being paired up with Jason should have been done by her mother. I get that the whole "seeing where potential for romance is" thing was happening, but their relationship ended up failing anyway and the way it fails just makes the whole point kind of fall flat. Instead, it would have made more sense for Aphrodite to have included these memories for her daughter. She loves interfering in romance, and her using Piper's relationship with Jason as a way to get Piper's romantic life out of the way (separate thing of Aphrodite caring abt seemingly everyone but her own kids' romantic lives, but that's a different post) then that could've made this parallel so strong! It's what made me make the og post, and what makes this idea drive me so insane. Helen being already married and Paris being forced to fall in love with her, abducting her from her home and then marrying her would've been the perfect parallel to Piper's story. She has memories of Jason implanted in her brain, and for the whole of The Lost Hero we see her trying to figure out what's real or not, but that's so difficult to do in her situation. She's constantly on the verge of death after she finds out her memories are false, and if it's not her then it's Leo or Jason being in danger. This should've become an arc for Piper and Jason, and imo HOO should've ended with their amicable breakup. Make her slowly realise over the course of the series that she's a lesbian, and her feelings were manufactured by her mother (and reinforced by comphet). This honestly even works with Jason's death. Parallel him and Paris' death, have Piper then have a relationship with a girl after being "freed" from the relationship she was forced into by her mother. And, most importantly, USE this parallel! Have Jason die in his OWN SERIES, and have that cause actual character conflict!

Helen and Paris were torn apart by the war. Helen was from Sparta, she was taken from her marriage and betrothed to another. It's what cause the war, and what lead to her lover's death. Piper was the daughter of the oldest Greek goddess, while Jason was the son of the most important figure for Romans. HAVE THAT MEAN SOMETHING! Their relationship should have had WAY more tension when the camps were fighting, and it should have brought up the question of how much they cared about each other at all. It was alluded to, but Piper's doubts about Jason's allegiance never had any real world consequence. And if she did doubt him, only for him to die for his friends? Oh the tragedy it could have caused. Jason's role as praetor was also never expanded on. There should have been consequences for a praetor, the highest rank of a Roman legionnaire, to be dating a Greek, their sworn enemy. It should have caused conflict, it should have made the Romans feel betrayed by their former leader, it should have been one of the driving forces behind Octavian's dismissal of Jason's return. Piper should have been in the centre, looking at her knife only to wonder how much of this she could control. How could she save anyone when everything ruining her life seemed out of control?

Was Piper's life ever truly hers, or was she living out a tragedy that had been played out a million times before?

But, yk, that would require understanding that lesbians can have complicated relationships with their sexuality and go out with men without it undermining their own sexuality, and an understanding of female characters that goes beyond dating someone or eternal virign. Sigh.....

[bewakulfi]

online friendships ars so bittersweet

[shibaraki]

I'M FREE I am finally fucking FREE this weekend, I’ll get these wips done soon I swear on my life

[eebie]

i cant keep it hidden any longer

[read-write-thrive]

I wanted to get a head start on palasaki week and now I’m building out a reverse AU. why do I keep doing this to myself I can’t keep starting new stuff without finishing the old stuff 😭

[lichenbug]

i love overthinking the mlp universe love and characters. anyway. twilight as a princess that does extensive research. she has books and books that shes written over things abt friendship. this is the prinvess who publishes the work she has and give public lectures. shes a public figure in her field.

when you read twilights work in equestria, she always credits spike. she credits every single source she uses in her research as the princess of friendship of course, but she also extensive credit to spike. she considers him a secondary author. all the work that she’s done has spike on the front. they are a packaged duo. please.

edit: (read tags bc i got carried away in them pls)

[dylanconrique]

okay, but i need the girls to try and cheer lucy up by getting her drunk, only to have their plan backfire when lucy starts sobbing over and over about how much she misses and still loves tim.

[journey-to-the-attic]

bold of you to assume we (or atleast i) dont want to read paragraphs about ik's and belphie's dynamic 😈😈

if you feel like writing that, i'd absolutely love to read about it!!! ^^

RIGHT YES this took me a hot minute but let's go!!!!

so the main points that this is all built around:

belphie is someone who is absolutely shit at understanding himself

ik is someone who has a knack for understanding anyone she talks to for long enough

belphie's first resort is usually to leave things to someone else, but easily asserts the things he wants

ik will actively pursue you if she thinks she can help, despite usually feeling guilty about requesting anything

they both have very simple views of very complicated things

building from point 1: this is not entirely belphie's fault - i've talked about this before, so i'll just paste the pertinent bits here:

belphie, as the youngest brother, has been detrimentally coddled in regards to these things, and has NO fucking idea how to properly deal with loss the others haven't tried to talk to him about his grief for lilith, nor about their experiences during the celestial war; when they all had to support each other after the fall, they comforted him, but never ever discussed the pain of it all it's like the doctor refusing to talk about your actual symptoms because they're afraid of making you uncomfortable, and instead just soothingly going "it's okay, just take some ibuprofen and see me in the morning"

belphie underestimates himself and, at the start of the year, is convinced that there's no way forward - 1. he feels he's left it too late, 2. he feels he's the only one still hung up on lilith's death, which only makes him more bitter, and 3. he thinks that the hatred and grief is just who he is now

now take ik, who finds him in the attic and takes worryingly little convincing to help him - even more concerningly, she decides to go through with it even upon finding out he was lying about his identity. this is a direct contradiction to his conviction that humanity is selfish and cruel - more than that, the more ik visits and chats with him, the more he remembers why he'd been so fascinated by humans as an angel

except it also reminds him of how much lilith loved humanity. belphie doesn't think he's capable of letting go - he doesn't think he's allowed to, and to him befriending a human and moving on is the same as betraying his sister's memory. so he represses any feelings of good-will and continues to nurse his hatred

i think it's important to note that belphie's hang-ups have always been self-destructive before this, but the more he lets his own grief fester, the more it threatens to burst. his threat to lucifer about destroying humanity is an early indicator of this, and it culminates in a moment of extreme emotional distress where it finally all implodes

so ik - in the wrong place and the wrong time (in the literal sense) - finds him in the middle of a nightmare, wakes him up, and gets murdered for her troubles

belphie shuts down immediately after, because to him this is a point of no return. he's already convinced himself that nothing can be done for him, and this is the proof. except then everyone else forgets what's happened, and, panicking, he goes along with it - out of fear of losing his family if he comes clean.

so: point 2 - consider that a big thing with ik is that she just doesn't get why belphie acts the way he does after killing her. she's been able to get into the heads of his brothers before him, and even now can somewhat rationalise them forgetting, but she has no idea why belphie - who first killed her and then acted like he'd forgotten about it - would suddenly seem so wracked with guilt upon finding him in the dreamscape

belphie does not think he is strong enough to move on. ik, somehow, intrinsically, already knows this is not true. this is why she's so bewildered by belphie telling her lilith's story. he's convinced this is some kind of damning evidence, but ik doesn't get how this explains anything. and because she doesn't understand, she seeks answers.

now take point 3 and 4. belphie does not attempt to seek forgiveness - he just sits in the cell solomon locks him in. he doesn't try to get out, he doesn't attempt to repent, and he doesn't want to, because as far as he's concerned there's nothing to be done

ik, on the other hand, is going to put her home back together by force if necessary, so she goes to find him. multiple times, she climbs up the tower stairs to rescue him from a waking nightmare - the same thing that killed her - because her family is still his family, and she knows too well what it's like when you go without.

belphie has been sitting stagnant for millennia on end, and now ik has decided that she is going to KICK him along until he figures out that he can stand on his own two feet and keep going. and it works, because for some reason digging demons out of emotional pits of their own creation is ik's specialty

and now point 5: ik and belphie fall quite easily into a typical sibling dynamic of the "i'll make fun of you constantly, but if anyone messes with you they're dead" kind. they never really sit down to talk out all the residual Baggage of everything, because neither of them are the type to overthink these things

but EVEN THEN. they may be simple-minded but the complication of the everything that led up to this means there's little hidden meanings even in the normalcy of their behaviour, and neither of them ever register it

for belphie it's "i'll never understand you. thank you for understanding me. i don't know what to say, so i'll tease you for tripping on your laces instead. i'd throw someone down a gorge if they made you cry. let's go shopping. i think i'll spend the rest of my life wondering if i can ever close the wound i tore in your soul."

for ik it's "i'll never forget what you did to me. i see you in my nightmares sometimes. thanks for waiting for me after school. quit making a show out of helping me reach the top shelf. sometimes i'm glad you regret things so much. can you help me with this homework? i think we're alright."

and for both of them it's "i like hanging out with you. sleep well. i'm glad we're home."

in conclusion,

i am crazy about things i made up entirely. perhaps i am cringe but i am free

[tamaruaart]

Hazbin Hotel wishes it was Dante's inferno

[qualityrain]

heres ur scheduled low quality shitposting

[thursdaygrl]

GOOD MORNING what if i write a daisy edgar jones fc who is a mormon influencer who got married way too young and has small children she loves but that overwhelm her and a narcissistic husband would anyone write with her fhisdohsi

[deus-ex-mona]

has chizuutan been sitting this close to aizo in class all this time…?

[solar-halos]

i really wanna write a fic where finnick gets so overwhelmed with everything in the capitol and annie is being really insistent on helping him through it after he gets home but since she doesn’t fully understand it on a personal level she just ends up overwhelming him even more and he just snaps at her. like that sounds interesting to me cos in canon they’re just depicted being so lovey dovey and it would be cool to deviate from that without taking away how intensely they do love each other but at the same time. i cannot write it. it always ends in annie lashing out at him even harder and i just don’t think that would really work for them i really think that might just be a deal breaker idk