#on twt.

[mxiaogod]

— 09. [ALEA] YELAN X FEM! AFAB READER

Warnings : Angst with comfort (?) , cunnilingus, heavily toxic, NSFW (DNI IF YOU AREN'T 18+)

— As you walked through the door of your shared flat, the sensation of repetition quickly imprisoned your heart, ribs firmly packed together limiting air to move through your lungs, here we go again, you thought, it’s a never-ending abbys, you were trapped with no way out.

It’s not because you couldn’t, but because you didn’t want to; the poison that travels down your throat hurts, but you like it nevertheless; the prickly sensation in your arms that runs up to your neck practically paralyzes you, restricting your mobility.

The sense of suppressed toxicity never failed to make you feel at home, that your feet were grounded, that you weren’t utterly void, the silver of hope that flows through her transfers to you in the moment she runs her hands through your body, it feels like thorns, blades, abrading your flesh, making you bleed scarlet.

Yelan was never a woman of commitment, but the notion of her minimum effort to come back to you was keeping your body moving and your brain working, she doesn’t know how or why, and neither do you, why she continues coming back to you, you were different, almost unusual in the line of women she had tasted throughout her life.

Maybe it’s because of what she does, who she is, that she denies every expression of affection she receives; you believe it’s unjust for her to be so selfish that she sees no worth in herself; you think it’s selfish that you couldn’t love her the way you wanted to; it had to be her way.

You pick on the wound of your relationship to make it bleed again, it didn’t matter if it hurt, why would it? You and Yelan were the epitome of affliction, no matter what you do, it just hurts so good and felt so congenial with her driving a stake through your heart, you were used to the aching feeling of her name being carved on you to the point it was all you wanted to feel.

You put the takeaway bag on the rotting oak table with its crack seeping with moss and termites, you needed to purchase another table to replace it, Yelan’s back was facing you, the only light bouncing off the walls was the screen she had all of her concentration on, “Come eat.” You said gently, you didn’t want to upset her, worried she’d leave you again every time you pissed her off, you were so terrified that it troubled you even when sleep makes itself comfortable in the comfort of your eyelids.

She mumbled a little “Hmh.” as she returned her full focus to the television, you removed your coat and purse and sat on the couch, you felt the tears clouding your eyes much too soon, you practiced this like a mantra, like a prayer you hoped would be heard by someone, by her. You wanted to speak up, but Yelan felt like the thorns in your throat, she felt like everything that held you back, the bound on your wrists, the duct tape on your lips, and the stake driven through your heart, you felt all of her so much you don’t know what you felt like anymore, it was all her.

The entirety of your relationship felt like gambling, Alea.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” As you choked back a sob, Yelan was everything but unfazed, there was a hint of emotion that flashed through her cyan eyes that you once loved so much, the same eyes that was your home.

It was while after you heard her response, but it made you feel guilty, like it was clawing you from the inside, you felt evil, it was the feeling that brought a sour taste to your mouth.

“You’re leaving me too?” You were certain that her words carried vulnerability, for the first time you could see through her, what she really was under all the facade, she felt like your Yelan.

“Yes.” You forced out; it was so little but a full sentence. 

“No,” she said, her stance stiffening as she rose and kneeled in front of you, her dulcet voice echoing through the wall once more.

“Baby-”

“I don’t want this anymore, I don’t know what to do with you anymore, let me go,” you pleaded, “Let me go, Yelan, please-”

“I’m sorry baby no, I can’t; I don’t want to, I’ll do anything.” As her arms wrapped your waist, they didn’t feel like shackles digging into your flesh; for once they felt like refuge.

It was most likely the first time Yelan felt what you were like, your submission, your desire, and all you were; it penetrated her mind, devouring her entire being.

And it was the first time you saw Yelan cry; she had been a stoic lady till now, fat tears soaking her cheeks, you trailed your gaze down to her lovely eyes, down to the curve of her nose, her beauty that you adored, and down to her lips, so full you wanted to fill the emptiness in you with it.

You stared at her eyes as she did, she saw through you, your love was enough for her own hands to betray her, stabbing a knife through her heart.

She felt your pain, sorrow, suffering, and sacrifices; she had never believed in surrender until you did to the woman who was knelt in front of you; she felt selfish because she wanted to keep you for herself; she had thought that if she made you work for her, you’d devote yourself to her, and you did.

She didn’t realize how big of a mistake she’d made until you filled her senses. She didn’t know what love felt like, what sacrifice felt like, what you felt like.

She’s so selfish for wanting to keep you all for herself that it ate her away. Guilt was always the flavor that remained in her tongue, preventing her from experiencing you the way you deserved to be felt.

“Please give me one more chance, please baby,” she begged as she sat alongside you, arms so tight around your neck, chin on your shoulders, you didn’t know what to say, she always had the capacity to bring down the wall you had built around yourself.

You didn’t respond, so she communicated by entangling her lips with yours, it was filled with emotions, it felt like the both of you, for once it wasn’t all her, the salient of yourself was lingering in the taste of her, teeth clashing together as more of you seeped into her lips, your taste was more apparent than before, you kissed with longing, like it was the first time.

Her fingers linked with yours and she drew your face closer to her; you didn’t protest because you wanted to think she had more to offer. She penetrated your mouth with her tongue as she softly pressed your body down, as if you were a piece of glass so sharp it cuts others but will shatter if dropped.

More of you was climbing up to your senses, you felt much more of what you were, it felt energizing, you were ecstatic, your hips grind against hers as her lips laced with your favorite poison dragged down the column of your neck and your collar bones.

You panted as if you were deprived of each other, You were stripped off the only things that kept you from devouring one another, and you exchanged breaths. The woman on top of you grunted as you grasped her azure-colored hair.

A new passion was shared, and it spoke in voices, shouted, and screamed, sound reaching inaccessible regions, from your thoughts to hers, and it was harmonized, it was finally together.

Yelan ground her hips harder and faster as your desire flowed and blended, your ecstatic smile giving her a boost of energy as she pushed full effort into making you feel euphoric.

Your euphonious voice resonated out of your shared home, bringing life to the lifeless, as the cord on your lower stomach snapped. Yelan believes it was magic, that you had the ability to cure everything, to bring back life to the wilted.

She flipped your position, placing you atop of her, her lithe fingers stroking your hair, like plucking out the bad thoughts that lingered in your head, bodies wet in perspiration stuck together.

For once in her life, she found a purpose.

She wanted to be your home, your surrender, your passion, and everything you were.

She wanted to feel more of you, your presence to seep through the patterns on her palm, the cracks of her lips, the crevices of her skin, through her veins until you consume the entirety of her.

“I’m sorry my love, I’ll try for you, I promise.” 

“I will forgive you, but not right now, not so soon.”

“I’d grovel for your forgiveness, I’m sorry my Angel, I love you so much.” Her dulcet voice lulled you to sleep.

You’d give her more if she needed more, she was your Yelan after all.

[spooksier]

young artist posting your work online, heed my warning. im holding your face so gently in my hands, you have to stop caring about numbers right now and start caring about making the weirdest and most self-indulgent art you possibly can

[hippiedogs]

i dont know if the cheese was worth it

[rounderhouse]

[shesnake]

this was in response to a now deleted tweet by an adult about disney channel "falling off" and I think about it all the time when people my age complain about teen media

[toxungen]

luna

[inktho]

sometimes

[m-oshun]

Hobie

[porcelainnpines]

putrid air

[konaharts]

How their last fight [probably] went.

[bogmonstergeneral]

crowley. crowley’s new hair color is 6.66. That’s the color coding. his hair is literally demonic. i love this show

[tecochet]

mary jane's husband and his boyfriend

[emily-e-draws]

have you seen her?? 🥺

[dr-cameron]

wanted to share this with everyone here at houseblr cuz its very silly and wish yall can see it too eheheh

[directyourfate]

these tweets are holding hands

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about