#ring for the leash there in the center. beautiful. the way your hair covers your eye like that is very pretty. i adore how it frames the ey

[jackrrabbit]

Short Leash /// Lev x f!Reader x Alisa (18+)

Summary: [Post-timeskip] The Haiba siblings get up to no good with their favorite pet.

A/N: Lev really went from skinny goblin to sugar папочка, and don’t even get me started on Alisa 😭 Also, imma lay heavy on those Russian terms of endearment 🇷🇺 I know Lev doesn’t speak Russian but I feel like post-timeskip he might, and it makes me horny so…

Dedicated to my eternal muse @koiibito​ for thirsting with me and stoking my lust for this duo and to @thisisthehardestthing​ for providing the fashion references that brought this fic to life for me (although I still can’t describe clothing for shit). Thank you!!!

Tags/warnings: (slight) pet play, threesome, alcohol/drug use mentions, size kink (yk Lev is 6’5 and Alisa is 5’10), dom/sub, orgasm control, rough sex, filming, breath play, crying, reader is a sugar baby in denial, no incest but the siblings fuck you together, yandere-ish, established BDSM relationship, all characters are adults

They like playing dress-up.

With you, if that wasn’t obvious. They’re models, so you could say that playing dress-up is a career for them, a method of putting food on the table…and Balenciaga in the closet…and every luxury pharmaceutical known to man in the medicine cabinet. And they’re so beautiful, both of them. They look good in anything. But when it comes to you, playing dress-up is a labor of love.

Today was Alisa’s turn, which means today was red: crimson lingerie in a box she had delivered to you before the party tonight. The box…it looked so out of place propped up against the bottom of your shabby apartment door that it’s a miracle no one stole it. Black packaging, lettering in gold, and the label printed on the box was French, you think? The two years of language class you took in high school didn’t help you read it, but you had no trouble understanding the number at the bottom of the receipt Alisa included with the set.

She left it on purpose, you know that. She wants you to know that the money she dropped on these flimsy little undergarments could have paid your rent for two months. But you can’t tell her that, or she’ll just insist again that your apartment is so small and ugly, it’s not worth it, it’s high time you moved in with her and Lev already, they would love to have you, and you’d never have to worry about rent again.

Spoiling you. That’s what they call it. Sometimes you think the Haiba siblings spoil you because they know it makes you uncomfortable.

Either way, you can’t say no. You’ve tried, over and over, told them they need to stop buying you clothes and shoes and diamonds but they just laugh you off. Lev, especially—he’s got this way of tipping his head to the side and blinking down at you while you try to explain how nervous it makes you to be dripping in excess, smiling lightly like he’s watching a child throw a tantrum. They just don’t get it. Or they do, and they think it’s funny.

Yeah, it’s probably the latter. You were raised right, raised not to accept gifts like this when you have nothing to give in return—but you were also raised to be gracious to the kindness of strangers, and while they aren’t exactly strangers, it’s just too exhausting to try to deny their generosity. Over time, little by little, you’ve given inches and the Haiba siblings have taken miles.

The Haiba siblings. That’s who they are, constantly presented in juxtaposition since Lev made his debut. They were born for this, and not because of their height. It’s the eyes—something savagely beautiful about that shade of green, those pale eyelashes, the slitted pupils like a cat’s.

The lingerie was Alisa’s choice, but the dress was Lev’s which is probably why he can’t keep his hands off you at the party, grip gliding down the low back and breath ghosting over your neck every time you try to put some distance between you. He’s usually more careful than this—Alisa can get away with the playful touching (groping?) because the cameras will just play it off as friendly skinship, but if someone catches Lev stroking across your thighs or tracing those long fingers over your spine while you move together on the dance floor, there’s going to be trouble. Not that it’s your problem, but one of you has to be responsible tonight, and judging by the number of times Lev’s excused himself to go to the bathroom and come back blinking and grinning and rubbing his nose, the responsible one is going to have to be you.

This time when he returns his gelled-back hair is mussed and—Jesus, how careless can he get?—there’s a little dusting of coke spilled over the collar of his black shirt. You roll your eyes and reach up to brush it off for him but he catches your hand and lifts it to his mouth. A kiss on your inner wrist first, and then his teeth are grazing over that tender skin, blunt edges digging in and drawing dents. A bite.

It’s just on the edge of painful when you belatedly yank your hand away. “Lev—you got it on your shirt, seriously—“ You try to make your voice sound scolding, but it comes out too high.

Lev’s eyes are dark, dilated; he laughs breathlessly and nudges closer to you, trapping you between his long arms and the bar. “You want some? Kotyonok, little kitten wants a treat?”

“No…I’m just drinking tonight. I don’t want to be out too late.” The vodka soda in your hand isn’t nearly strong enough, but if you have any more you’re going to be too drunk to keep your act together and deal with their antics. You don’t have the tolerance they do, and just because they can get away with all the coke and the alcohol and whatever else they’ve been playing with tonight doesn’t mean you can.

…Not that your relative sobriety stops Lev from dragging your face up to meet his, lifting your chin with both hands wrapped around the back of your head and bending down only enough that you still have to rise up on your tiptoes to kiss him. You only catch a hint of the smell of honey before the sour-sweet taste of Lev’s favorite drink (that medovukha mead stuff, it’s Russian, you think) is filling your mouth and his long tongue is sliding over yours. “Mmph—“

“Kitten, always so good,” he sighs, pressing closer so your face has to arch up to the ceiling to meet his. In your limited view you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he kisses you, sweeping over your tongue, biting your lip and laughing into your mouth. “So sweet…and impatient, yeah? Want to go home with us already?”

His hand on the small of your back is bunching your dress up, giving him the space to push his knee between your legs. You gasp sharply but it just eggs him on and his mouth dips down under your jawline, his body covering yours, so sudden and so public that your eyes flash around the room, wondering who might witness Lev—the international model Lev Haiba—sucking on your throat. “L-Lev, wait, someone—someone will see—“

“You’re asking to go somewhere private? Greedy girl…Alisa’s still having fun.”

You try to come up with a response, but it’s not easy to think straight when he’s holding your waist, circling it with those big hands and petting up to your ribs, cupping your tits while his thigh rubs between your legs. You can smell his cologne, bergamot and amber, and—and—you can smell his cologne—

“Lyovochka~” Alisa’s voice rings out and you know just by hearing it that she’s had as much as Lev. Her hand fists in her brother’s hair and pulls him off your neck none too gently, ignoring his curse and complaints. “Naughty, naughty. Playing without me, were you?”

“Alisa, you’re fucking up my hair,” Lev whines, but he straightens off you, pulling Alisa into your tight little trio at the bar. “Kitty says she wants us to take her home.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and wonder if they can see the blush under your foundation. “I didn’t— I can go home myself—“ Not that you have a chance in hell of leaving the party without them, but still. You can pretend to play coy.

“No.” Alisa places a finger on your mouth to shush you and then her eyes lower and her fingernail—painted silvery white, her signature color—pushes into your bottom lip. You stumble closer, hands meeting her shoulders through the thick white padding of the jacket she’s wearing, over the glittering crystals that look blindingly bright under the blacklights.

Silver and white. Always silver and white.

Her fingernail traces down your lip, drawing a fine line on your chin; on instinct, you tip your head back to give her access to pet down your throat until she comes to a rest on the neckpiece of the harness she included with the lingerie set. When her hand reaches the ring in the center of the choker she grips it, pulling your face away from Lev’s and toward hers. “Lyovochka, what do you think…? I saw it and thought of kotyonok. A collar for our little kitten.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I need to see more.” Lev’s hands are on you again now, splaying flat over your chest before his fingers curl, one by one, around the harness strap that leads from the ring at the choker down between your breasts until it disappears under the neckline of your dress. He’s tugging on it—lightly, but you can’t deny the feeling that it’s like a leash…or the feeling of heat gathering in your pussy at having the two of them all over you like this.

You shouldn’t be letting them touch you (and they are touching you, Alisa’s hand stroking your throat and Lev tugging your side into his chest). There’s always people watching at parties like this; you’ve attended these things on Lev’s arm or Alisa’s enough times to know better than to let them do as they please. You’re supposed to be the responsible one. Too bad your body is craving a lot more than the innocuous touches they can give you in public.

You swallow and Alisa grins, dark-painted lips stretching over those perfect white teeth. “So. Kitten, would you like us to take you home? Say please.”

You don’t have to say it. You could ask yourself why you let them get away with this, why you keep letting yourself fall to the mercy of these siblings, why they even want you in the first place, but those are questions for tomorrow morning—tonight, even though you should hate it, there’s a part of you that wants to purr every time they call you kitten.

“…Please,” you murmur, and as soon as the word is out Lev’s grip on the harness tightens, pulling the choker taut around your neck.

///

They end up ripping the dress.

You kind of hate them for it when you think about how many bills you could have paid with the money they spent dolling you up for tonight. But by the time they get around to it, you’re pretty much too horny to care.

They didn’t even wait til you got home (their home, you remind yourself, not yours), although that shouldn’t have surprised you. From Alisa tugging on your hair and Lev’s arm draped possessively around your shoulders, you should’ve seen it coming, but it still takes you by surprise that the three of you have barely piled in the back of the Uber when Alisa’s dragging you to sit on her thigh, unceremoniously pulling your dress over your hips and sliding her hand up the slit where the fabric falls open to rub your pussy.

You whine and squirm but can’t quite make yourself say the word “no”, instead squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on Alisa whispering in your ear that you’re a good girl, getting so wet for them. All three of you can hear the squishy damp noises your pussy is making sucking around her fingers, and dear god you hope the driver can’t hear it too—wait, is he looking? Your eyes peek open, traitorously seeking out the rearview to see if there’s a possibility he’s watching the show, but before you can work up the guts to tell them to quit it, Lev’s hand is folding around your jaw again and forcing two of his fingers past your lips for you to drool on. And—fuck—Alisa’s petting over your cunt, drawing slow lines up from the wetness gathered at your hole up to your clit.

By the time you’ve reached the building Lev and Alisa are staying at in Tokyo, you’re past the point of caring that other people are around. Lev has to pull you out of the car and off Alisa’s lap to get you to stop humping your ass into her lap and trying to push your mound into her fingers. Alisa winks at the driver—probably earning herself a 5-star rating despite all your bad behavior—and then the two of them are steering you past the doorman and into the elevator.

As soon as you’ve got the barest semblance of privacy, Lev pulls your back into his chest and grinds himself into you. You can feel how hard he is, the heat of his body leaching through the fabric of your clothing directly into your skin, hands around your waist forcing you to mold yourself into him while he layers kisses over the side of you neck. “L-Lev, ah— mm, someone’s gonna come in,” you whine as he pushes the bulge of his stiff cock against your lower back, but he just lets one of his hands drift up to scratch at the choker of the harness again.

Alisa’s hands meet your cheeks on either side, framing your face for a short moment so she can study your dazed expression, the flush on your cheeks, your sex-glazed eyes. You look like you want to get fucked, you know that? You look like you want them to push you down in the elevator and fuck you right there. “But kotyonok, you’re so darling. We should let other people get a chance to see, no?”

Lev’s hand spans the breadth of your throat, not quite pressing down (yet), so he must be able to feel the way your muscles contract and release when you swallow—not to mention the edge of tension that enters your body at the thought of someone seeing you in such a compromising position. “Ahh, kitty wants to be all ours, doesn’t she? She doesn’t want us to share.”

“Is that so?” Alisa doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just tipping your face up and letting her lips close over yours. She tastes more bitter than Lev did and for the brief moment you have between getting pressed between them and your brain short-circuiting, you wonder what she’s been drinking. “Are you being selfish?”

“Nnnh, I—“ you don’t have an answer for her, but it doesn’t really matter because the elevator is dinging at the penthouse and Alisa’s pulling you away from Lev into their apartment by the center strap of the harness. You’ve got no choice but to follow, and you consider telling her to quit dragging you around by your neck but there’s something about the pressure on your throat that isn’t…entirely unpleasant, so you hold your tongue.

Lev murmurs to Alisa in Russian—you hate when they do that, especially because you know they’re only doing it because they don’t want you to understand—and then you’re in the spare bedroom, the one that the siblings insist on referring to as your bedroom. Even though you don’t live here. Even though you do everything you can to avoid staying here. Even though the only times you ever spend the night are when you’re too fucked-out by the two of them to consider putting in the effort to get home.

Something tells you this is going to be one of those nights.

They work in sync, teasing down the straps of your dress and easing you out of it until Alisa snaps the harness between your tits and Lev gets impatient and someone pulls the back of the dress a little too hard and that’s when you feel tearing. “Shit,” you hear in Lev’s voice, a soft curse in Russian from Alisa, and then a reluctant peal of laughter as the dress flutters down to the ground.

“Did you—“ You’re about to curse them out for ruining something so fucking expensive, but Lev clucks his tongue and shakes his head and you fall silent. He’s pulling back from you—so is Alisa—and your heart jumps for a second wondering if you did something wrong until you realize they’re just looking at you, drinking in the image of you naked except for the lingerie Alisa picked out for you.

“Bordelle?” Lev murmurs, running fingers down the straps cinching around your waist, the belt holding up the garters—as usual, you don’t know whether to move away from his touch or melt into it.

Alisa smiles. “It was made for her, don’t you think? Our kitten looks good in red.”

Honestly, they call you kitten, but the way they look at you is less like the way owners look at a pet and more like wolves sizing up a little lamb they’ve cornered. Hungry. Starving. You’re not sure which you prefer, but it makes you self-conscious. You’d felt pretty confident about the way you looked when you examined yourself in the mirror before the party—Alisa has good taste, even if the lingerie is just this side of bondage gear and not something you would’ve bought for yourself in a million years—but now you have to fight the urge to cover yourself up with your hands…not that they’d let you.

True to your prediction, as soon as your hand twitches with the instinct to cross your arms over your bound-up tits Lev snaps down to catch it. “Let me see,” he instructs, and the authority in his voice is so definite that your arms fall back down to your sides automatically. “Good girl. Alisa, do you think we can keep it on while we fuck her?”

While we fuck her.

He says it so nonchalantly. And it’s not like you didn’t know that’s what you’re here for. You’re a grown-up, you’re sober (ish), and you’ve been in this room with the two of them enough times that you’re well aware there was only ever one way this night was going to end up. But the way he says it makes you shiver. They’re going to fuck you…like they own you. And it’s kind of terrifying how much you want to be owned.

“I think we can get the panties off without taking off the rest,” Alisa says to respond to Lev’s question, even as she brushes a stray lock of hair away from your eyes. “Besides, I have a surprise for her.”

A surprise? It wouldn’t be the first time one of them has pulled out something unexpected in bed—last time it was a ball gag and nipple clamps, and the time before that it was a magic wand vibrator (plated in literal gold, because the Haibas are nothing if not excessive) that had you begging and crying and creaming all over the sheets. You can’t help your anxiousness as Alisa pulls something out of the otherwise-empty dresser and sets it up to face the bed.

It’s…a camera. A camera? “You want to film it?” you blurt out, your voice sounding pitchy and nervous even to your own ears.

“Great idea,” Lev says, patting your head like that’s all it’ll take to make you feel better.

“Yes, kotyonok. I’m going to film you,” Alisa replies, fiddling with the settings and batting those long blonde eyelashes at the lens once she’s satisfied.

“Wait, I—I don’t know. I’m not like you, I can’t just—” you stammer. Sure, the twins will look perfect and irresistible and bewitching, but you? You’re not sure you want to have a video of yourself getting fucked stupid in their hands. “What if I don’t want to…?”

“But I want to.” Alisa’s gaze sweeps down over you and you lower your eyes so you don’t have to meet it, don’t have to feel the weight of it holding you down more securely than any leash. There’s a reason she’s a model—she could sell anything. Those eyes. How are you supposed to say no?

You want to step back away from her. You almost try, but Lev’s at your back already, long arms draped over your shoulders, a loose hold that nonetheless keeps you from moving. So instead of backing up, you just bite your lip.

Alisa’s face softens—she’s good at that, good at picking up the cues when she’s pushed a little too far for your comfort—and a second later you feel her hand wrapping around yours, holding it. “Safeword?”

Cherry. The safeword is cherry. It’s not that you’ve forgotten. It’s her way of reminding you that you have a safeword, and you can use it, and it’ll be okay. This isn’t even a full-on scene, but Alisa must be able to sense that the addition of the camera made you scared.

Picking up the change in mood a second later, Lev’s hand finds your other one and he strokes his thumb over your skin reassuringly. God, maybe it’s wrong that they can make you feel hunted one second and adored the next, but you let out a breath and relax, shaking your head to indicate that you’re not stopping.

She brings your hand up to her mouth and kisses it so lightly her lipstick barely leaves a mark—wait, oops. You’d forgotten she was wearing lipstick. You must have it all over you by now.

“Good girl. We take good care of you, don’t we?”

“…Yes.”

“We do.” Lev’s impatient, you can tell from the way he’s adjusting his grip to your waist and pushing you over to the bed. “We’re not going to share the video, if that’s what you’re worried about. Alisa likes to joke, but really…”

Your ass hits the mattress so you’re half-sitting, half-lying on the covers, propped up on your elbows, peeking through your eyelashes at the two of them looming over you—and, oh, there they are again.

The wolves.

“…we don’t want anyone else seeing you like this,” Alisa finishes, holding up the camera and flicking the little red light on to record.

///

Lev starts, like usual. You think maybe it’s a control thing, that Alisa doesn’t let you touch her until you’re already falling apart on Lev’s fingers, his tongue…his cock. As much as she likes it when you bite back, you’re cuter when you’re begging.

She’s holding your face off the bed by a hand under your chin, wrenching your neck back so your wrecked face is level with the camera. You’re on your hands and knees—or, more accurately, your hands and elbows, with your ass arched up and Lev’s face buried in your slit. “Nngh, nnnnn, fuck please please—“ Your whining is barely coherent, but Lev knows what you’re asking for and he digs his fingers into the meat of your ass to hold you still as he latches his mouth over your clit and sucks.

Fuck— you keen and try to drop your head down to the sheets to angle your dripping cunny closer to his mouth, but Alisa’s grip on your jaw prevents you from getting any further out of the camera frame. “Uh-uh, no. I want to see you.”

“Alisa…ahhh…” Your tongue is lolling out of your mouth and you know you must look like a mess, spit practically falling over your lips as you try to stop yourself from cumming right here. Fuck, it feels good, feels so hot and wet that your juices don’t even have time to cool on your thighs before more is dripping down.

“Tell the camera what’s happening, kotyonok,” Alisa purrs, wiping the saliva off your lip and then pushing her fingers over your tongue.

“…eating me out, he’s—uhhhn—licking my pussy…” you slur around her fingers. Your glassy eyes flit between her appraising expression and the lens of the camera—even though you trust that they won’t show the video to anyone outside this room, it’s making you shudder to think about what’s on the little screen you can’t see—Alisa’s pretty silver fingernails coated in your drool as she presses them deeper into your throat, your body all bound up in red straps and gold fastenings, and Lev behind you, hair falling out of its careful style as he shoves his face deeper between your legs.

The edge of Alisa’s finger bites into the plush of your lip as you moan and unsuccessfully attempt to wriggle your ass under Lev’s grip. “Who’s licking your pussy?” she asks calmly, like she’s asking what the weather is like today.

“Lev, it’s, it’s Lev—fuck ohh, oh,” you whine as Lev slides his tongue flat from your clit up to your hole and pushes the slimy wet muscle inside. It’s so long, you’re never going to get used to how stupid long his tongue is, licking out your walls and making slurping sounds that are downright fucking vile.

Heat is gathering quickly in your abdomen, and you can feel it—that plateau rising before you hit your peak, and the tension in your thighs making them twitch and quiver as your muscles contract in anticipation—and his tongue is so long and thick it’s almost reaching your g-spot, almostalmostalmost, god-fucking-damnit. Your spine curls even further, arching yourself into him, wordlessly begging for him to keep doing exactly what he’s doing. “Gonna cum, fuck Lev please make me, make me cum!”

“Oh? Did I say you were allowed to cum?” Alisa asks, cat-like eyes narrowing.

Shit, fuck, she didn’t, but you don’t know if you can help yourself. Your hand fists in the sheet, curling your fingernails around the fabric to try to ease up the heat where Lev’s mouth is latched to your cunt. “Please Alisa—I need to—“

Alisa shakes her head. “But you don’t get to decide what you need, kotyonok.”

She’s right, but—but, it’s not fair, Lev’s switching between dragging his tongue over your clit and fucking you with it—you try to pull your hips away from his mouth but he doesn’t let you, effortlessly holding you in place while he teases you even higher.

“Who decides?” she continues, petting your jawline and wiping away the first hint of a tear from your cheek as you try to hold it back—

but you can’t.

“You-you decide! You decide when I cum!” you gasp, but your body is already betraying your words, convulsing and contracting as your climax hits you like a truck. You try to hold yourself through it but it’s impossible—your eyes roll back and arms go slack, dropping flat on the bedspread with your ass still pushed up into the air as your pussy walls contract around Lev’s tongue.

He’s still licking you—slower now at least, but you’re shaking at the feeling of him stimulating that sensitive bud. “Stop…too much,” you whine weakly, but he just raises a hand off your ass cheek to give it a light smack.

“Bad kitty,” he murmurs with his mouth still pressed against your slit, and the contact makes you seize up and twitch.

“Yes. Very bad.” Alisa doesn’t look angry—she’s never angry with you, even when you’re…disobedient, you guess—but there’s a note of mischief in her eyes that sends a thrill of fear (and not just fear) down your spine.

“S-Sorry, I’m sorry,” you whimper, but Alisa’s already pulling you upright by the ring on your choker.

“Did you cum? Even though we didn’t give you permission?” she asks, even though all three of you know you did. You nod, avoiding looking at both her and the camera as if that’ll disguise the obvious flush painting your cheeks red. At your admission, she smiles indulgently and murmurs something in Russian that you don’t understand, but you get the gist.

You’ve been naughty. And you’re going to get punished.

You hear the bedsprings squeak and feel the dip of the mattress as Lev climbs up behind you, settling his body against yours so the bulge in his pants is pressed against your back again. He’s still wearing most of his outfit from the party—they both are, and you note (not for the first time) how ridiculous it is that the siblings are willing to fuck you together but being naked in front of one another is the one boundary they won’t cross—but you don’t have to wait long before you hear him undoing his pants and pulling his cock out to rut it lazily against your back.

Automatically you shift your legs apart and reach down to finger yourself like you usually do, stretch your cunt out so you’re ready to take him. But before you can reach your pussy, Lev’s hand is folding over yours and lacing his fingers over your hand to stop you. “L-Lev?”

“No, kitty,” he tells you firmly.

You shiver. Alisa pinches your cheek and rubs over your ear. “What…”

“You already came,” Lev continues, and then you feel his cock sliding between your thighs, between your soaking-wet lips, using your cum as lubrication. “You came, so you don’t need to get ready. You’re going to take all of me, okay?”

All of him. You swallow. The full length slowly rubbing between your legs is going to go inside of you, without any preparation beforehand. “But…if I don’t, it’ll—it’s gonna hurt…”

“Yes, it’s going to hurt.” He waits for a moment, giving you a chance to say the safeword, but you don’t. “It’s going to hurt, and then it’ll feel good, and then you’re going to cream yourself on my cock like always. Yes?”

“Uh—“ You blink rapidly, already feeling his cockhead pushing between your lips toward your hole. Alisa combs your hair out of your face and you turn toward her. “Alisa?”

“Don’t ask her. You need to learn that your owners will take care of you. You need to trust us.” Lev presses in, stretching your little cunt around the thick head, and you suck in a sharp inhale.

“A-Ah—it’s too big,” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut and biting your lip as he slides himself deeper into you. And yeah, it hurts…but with how riled up you are, it definitely doesn’t hurt enough for you to want it to stop. The burn from the stretch is just making you wetter, and the feeling of being filled up by him is unbelievable. This was supposed to be a punishment, right?

Alisa cups your face to kiss you gently, and then her hands drift lower to circle your neck. Lev’s still sliding his cock into your pussy, slowly, slowly, so you can feel everything, every inch of his skin and every vein dragging against your g-spot. The deeper he gets, the more it hurts and the more you want to stop him, to take the lead—but he doesn’t let you.

“Are you going to cry, kitten?” Alisa asks you, reaching down to take one of your hands and pull it over her shoulder so you’re holding her. You grit your teeth and shudder and shake your head, making her lips quirk into a smile. “It’s alright if you cry. You’re still cute when you’re crying.”

With another roll of his hips Lev’s pushing up against your cervix and you choke out a curse. “F-Fuck, I’m not—not gonna c-c-cry…”

“Shh…” Upright on his knees behind you, Lev’s body is so big curled over yours that you feel smothered between him and Alisa. You sneak a glance back and there’s a pale pink flush over his cheeks and shoulders. “You’re taking me so well…taking my cock like that, going to make me forget you were bad…”

You stay still because it hurts more when you try to move, and you need to get yourself adjusted. You have to relax, you have to, but he’s so big, heavy and thick between your aching legs. You still haven’t recovered from cumming earlier, and every time one of the aftershocks hits you and you clench around him, the mix of pleasure and pain is almost too much. Even as aroused as you are, your cunt sucking him in for all you’re worth, he’s pushing against your cervix…and his hips haven’t even hit yours yet. He hasn’t bottomed out.

You’re going to take all of me, he said. You’re not even sure you can. But no matter what, you’re not—you’re not—gonna cry.

Until Lev pulls his hips back, sliding his cock out of you so it’s only his head sheathed at the entrance to your cunt, and then snaps forward again, filling you back up in a single stroke. He knocks into you so forcefully that you jerk forward, your chest mashing into Alisa’s. The force and his weight pulls a squeak out of you and—fuck, fuck—you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“—t-t-too fast,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as if that’ll prevent them from getting glossy. The pads of Alisa’s fingers are skimming over your cheeks, and her skin is so soft and silky that you want to nuzzle in for comfort.

“But Kotyonok likes it fast, doesn’t she?…you feel how wet you are on my—my cock?” Lev’s face nudges against your shoulder, and you can feel his hands curling around your upper arms, securing you underneath him, holding you in place as he pounds into you.

You like it…like it fast? Your head is spinning, you’re dizzy and hot and feverish, Lev’s cologne is mixing with Alisa’s perfume and you feel like you’re drinking it, ugh. Fuck. Feels like you’re getting bruised up inside and it feels good. Your legs are jerking, weakly trying to push yourself back on his cock to make him fill you up deeper than your pussy can take but you’re totally at their mercy.

“Let her down, Lyovochka. I want kitty to lick,” Alisa says, looking over your shoulder to make eye contact with her brother. She shifts back on the bedspread, easing herself into the pillows and pushing the skirt of her dress up over her waist to expose her panties: mesh, lace, powder-pink. They’re so pretty against her pale skin that you just stare down at her for a second, open-mouthed, before Lev’s releasing his grip on your arms and splaying his palm into your back, shoving your face down toward her lap.

You catch yourself on your elbows—barely—but you don’t have time to adjust to the new position and how stupid fucking goddamn deep Lev’s cock is hitting you before Alisa’s pulling your face up closer to her clothed pussy and adjusting her thighs to make room. Is she going to keep the panties on? Fuck—you almost ask her to take them off but you know you aren’t allowed so you just angle your face in and let drool coat your tongue so you can try to lap at her pussy through the fabric.

The awkward angle means you can barely taste her, but fuck, what you can taste is so good—they’ve conditioned you, the two of them, conditioned you like Pavlov’s dogs to crave what they’re doing to you so badly you can’t even think. The slightly-bitter taste of her cunt soaking through to your mouth has you intoxicated. She got like this from watching you, watching you cum all over the pretty lingerie she bought you, watching you get fucked so hard you’re crying. The thought of her getting off on watching you squirm makes your pussy clench around Lev’s cock.

“Gonna cum again?” Lev asks with laughter in his voice; his pace slows, dragging out the stimulation to your g-spot right as you feel him reach down to tease over your clit. You squeak out a denial but he doesn’t believe you—and why would he when he can literally hear the nasty wet noises from your pussy eating up his cock? “Yes…you are."

“I’m—n-no, I’m noooot…”

“Poor baby, can’t control herself.” Alisa’s pushing you back into her cunt, fingernails scraping over your scalp as you desperately try to lick her pussy. “Don’t be cruel, Lev.”

Another laugh, low and raspy and juddering from the pace of his cock stretching your walls and pushing against that sweet spot inside you. “I’m not the cruel one.”

They’re both cruel, you think, but that’s the only thing going through your mind because you’re pretty sure you’re going to go fucking crazy, your pussy is so hot you feel like you’re melting around him but you keep at Alisa’s cunt because you want to be good, want to be their good girl, want to be their good little kitty.

You want to be theirs.

“Please—please, can I, can I? Please let me, please I need you to let me…” you beg—somewhere in the back of your mind you know you’re going to hate yourself for giving in to them tomorrow but you want it so so so bad and you can’t cum without their permission, you can’t, you can’t be bad again.

“Well…what do you think, Alisa? Has she earned it?” There’s a growl in Lev’s voice—is he holding himself back? Yesss… He’s slowing down, fucking you up from the inside and the outside, pulling that heat out of you, making you squeal and whine and plead just like he said he would.

You want to, you need to, need to earn it, be good make Alisa feel good earn it—fuck, you have to try harder, and you flutter your tongue over her clit through her panties as well as you can, knowing you’re being sloppy but you don’t know how to help it. She waits a long moment and then sighs, pulling her fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face so you can look up at her, those pretty pretty eyes looking down at yours so indulgently. Adoringly. Like you’re something to be cherished. “Mm…yes.”

And that’s all it takes.

Your mouth falls open and your pussy does something, convulsing—

“—cumming I’m cumming Lev, A-Alisa—“

fuck, can’t breathe why can’t you breathe? something digging into your throat—

Lev’s, Lev’s hand under the choker dragging you upright tightening cutting off the sounds coming out of your mouth, choking your scream into a pathetic little mewl so he can hold your body up next to him while he fucks you through your climax—you can feel your face turning pink, your cunny holding around him, squeezing him so tight he can barely move but he still does, hips thrusting against your ass, the pleasure so bright and heavy you’re seeing sparks, head rushing, or maybe that’s just the lack of oxygen,

too tight the choker’s too tight you bring your hand back and tap against Lev’s and he lets go immediately. “Shit—sorry, are you alright? Can you breathe?”

You can feel him pulling out, and just that movement is enough to set off another round of clenching in your pussy. You’re sputtering, throat contracting in time with your cunt, not too painful. Just raw.

“Try to breathe, (Y/N),” Lev repeats, stroking down your back to soothe you. He sounds worried, and…that’s your name, isn’t it? It’s been a while since you heard one of them actually say your name instead of just kitten or kitty or kotyonok. It’s not like you can really bother pretending you’re not at least a little bit into the nickname, but hearing your real name out of his mouth stokes some kind of soft, nervous pleasure in you. And goddamn, you do not have the brainpower to analyze why.

It takes a moment for you to catch your breath—the air tastes sweeter than it did a minute ago—and then you roll over. “Did...did you cum?”

Lev shakes his head. You turn toward Alisa, and she just pats your cheek—of course she didn’t cum. Which means you’ve gotten to cum twice, and you didn’t get either of them off.

You bite your lip, turn to the side, and try not to let your eyes water for the—third? fourth?—time tonight. “I’m sorry, I—I’ll do it again, I’ll be better—“

“No,” Alisa says gently, adjusting her position to sit next to you and kiss your forehead. “You were so good, (Y/N).”

Lev mirrors her actions on the other side so you’re bracketed by the two of them. After a second of stillness to gauge your comfort, he starts undoing the clasps at the back of the choker and massaging his fingers over the tender skin underneath. You sniffle and then feel him lay his chin on the top of your head, arrange his arm over your side. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You know we like you no matter what, right?”

Alisa nods in agreement, pupils coming to a rest on the skin of your throat as she helps Lev remove the tangle of red satin straps from your body. “Our perfect little kitten. Who’s a good girl?”

Kitten.

Your stomach drops. Not your name. Just kitten.

It must be the twentieth time she’s called you that tonight, but somehow this time it’s different. You cringe, feeling cold where she touches you, but that doesn’t stop her from wiping away the smeared mascara and tear tracks from your cheeks. When you try to flinch away from her, Lev huffs out an annoyed breath and pushes you back into place. “Myesto. Stay.”

It’s a command. Like you would give to an animal. When you freeze, Alisa smiles and then she’s tilting your chin up with her fingers and bringing the camera—the camera, you forgot about the camera—to your throat so she can capture the mess of pink lines and indentations from where the choker bit into your neck…

…and who are you kidding? It’s not a choker, it’s a fucking collar. And you’re not their lover, or their girlfriend, or even their fuckbuddy.

You’re their pet.

[bloodycassian]

Hellish part 3 - reader x cassian - 

reader reports back to the Queens that she has failed her task of killing Rhysand.

"Stop acting like such a child." Amren scolded. Cassian's death glare towards her was enough to make Rhys tense. "Amren, dont you have a book to read?" Rhys asked. She smiled in a way that showed too many teeth, and would have sent a chill down the high lord's spine if he wasn't so focused on keeping everyone safe. Before she could start a fight, she left. Carrying her wine glass laced with blood with her. Cassian relaxed, finally. "I know you're not likely to forgive me for this. But I sent Azriel to watch over her on the journey back."  And Cass' relaxation was gone. His rage lashed out at Rhys. "What the fuck do you mean 'watch over her'? Shes my mate." His words practically rattled the dishes on the table. The townhome seemed too cramped, like Cass' body was too tight, too hot.  "And you'll kill yourself if you follow her back to the Queens." Rhys said simply, pity there in his eyes. He knew his brother well enough to know that logic would be how to win over this fight. He wondered if that mating bond ran so deep that it would counteract Cassian's strategist mind, though. Cassian snarled, but did not protest. He knew he would in fact give himself over to the Queens if it meant you being safe. He'd do anything to be by your side. He'd barely met you and he thought to sacrifice himself. He couldn't wrap his head around the insanity of it. And on top of it all, you were out to kill his brother. How cruel could the cauldron be?  "Cassian, I need you here. There's powers in play that want to see us fall." Rhys spoke gently to his brother. He squeezed Cassians shoulder and finally brought that tense stare to a stop. His jaw clenched, and Rhys saw the war roiling inside him. The urge to protect, to save, to keep you at his side was eating him alive.  "I'll be in the training ring." Cassian gritted out before leaving. + Your journey back to your masters was long and full of harsh sun that beat down on your skin. After two months of adjusting to Prythian's cooler weather, the abrupt change back to heat felt suffocating. Or maybe the hot feeling inside you was from the fact you'd not only failed your mission, but your mate had been one to help defend your target. You had tried to shove the thought of the male away your entire ride, but it was always there. That tantalizing golden light he radiated in the back of your mind.  "Kill the high lord and as many others as you can." The spell rang through your mind as a way of distraction. And shame. The dread that filled you each hour as you pressed closer was not a welcome distraction from the heat that the bond seared through you. You didn't know the consequences of coming back unsuccessful, but you hoped to the Mother that they would give you another chance. That they were merciful because of the information you brought back. The Queens were not known for their mercy, though. Especially the Crone, queen of them all. The one that held your bargain spell in her bony fingers.  The memory of the old crone cursing you made you sweat in a different way than the heat or the bond did. Nerves bundled deep inside you tingled more and more as you grew closer to the sandstone castle they resided in. The ride took a day just to get past their inner defenses. No guard dared approach you, marked with the black banner of the Queens court. Your horse was struggling by the end of the journey, refusing to gallop any longer. The shadows around you darkened when you dismounted. The sun was beginning to set along the desert and clay hills in the distance. Your heart did not sing of happiness at this reunion. The bond in the back of your mind you tried so hard to ignore seemed to flare with your stress. + The wrinkled face of the old crone reminded you of the old man that had traded you for a few gold marks when you were young. The rest of the queens stood by anxiously, watching. Waiting to see what the punishment would be. The spell compelled you to remain utterly helpless against the guards that shoved you to the floor before her. She tisked in disapproval. "Bring the cauldron, and let us unmake this one. Perhaps we will see what it gives us in return for this sacrifice." Her shrewd voice called. The other queens looked to each other with excitement, their shiny hair bouncing as they hurried to summon guards with the cauldron. You whimpered at the crushing feeling around you. Impending doom being delivered straight to you.  She approached the guards that pointed their spears and swords at you. "The spell acted as a bond, hold her down as soon as she touches the water." she instructed as you were lowered to the Cauldron's edge by three guards. Your mind screamed at you to fight, to tear and thrash and kill the ones that were ready to drown you in the depths of the damned cauldron. Even if your hands weren't bound, you couldnt fight back. The terror settled deep and full in the pit of your stomach. But the spell, the bond that insured your protection against the Queens now served as a leash keeping you from fighting back against them. "A life for a life. Let this death motivate the next contender to kill Rhysand of the Night Court." she made a motion with her hands and turned, going back to the other queens. The guards lowered you, and just as she promised, the magic snapped and you began fighting for your life. They struggled to contain you, but the blade through your thigh speared you down, forcing your legs into the water. Cold like you'd never experienced seeped into your bones through the wound. Your blood did not marr the dark water, it only swallowed the lifeblood that surged from you. You grew faint, and the water reached your knees. You knew it was going to be the end of you. The water swirled and pulled, tugging you deeper. Then, a flash of darkness erupted from you. You though they'd pushed you under. But it was an explosion of shadows that had blinded the entire room. You were ripped from the icy water, something cool grasping you under your arms. Then, swirling darkness took you, panting from behind you indicated you were not alone when you landed in the dark forest. + Cassian's wings ached for the feeling of air beneath him. He guarded Rhys at the meeting with Kier though, keeping a straight face even as he sensed the panic from you. His mind raced with the possiblities of what had happened. If you were safe, if you were even alive. Surely you were alive with the thrills going through the bond. Electrifying, and utterly terrifying.   Rhys then snapped, ending the terse conversation with Kier abruptly. "We must be leaving now. We will continue this later." He gave Kier a wave of his hand and began winnowing. "Stay with me, dont panic." Rhys spoke into Cassians mind. His heart dropped to the floor, face leeched of color at the words. With the first glimpse of the vision the high lord sent Cassian, he began roaring with rage. As soon as they winnowed a few feet from Azriel, he was ordering both his brothers to winnow you again, to Madja.  His speaking was dull, but you could feel it in every part of your being. The low rumble of that voice that spoke to your soul. A small smile spread across your face. "Hey Cass-" You choked, trying to make yourself sound strong. For his sake. You knew he could feel it though, feel that iciness that burned your legs. You shook, unable to move yourself. The cold felt like it was creeping up your entire body. He pulled that bond in his mind to him, close. As if he was wrapping you around his mind for warmth.  Then you saw all the beauty there. The beauty that the spell had refused to let you see. And the urge to kill the high lord was no longer present. It was like a weight lifted from you. You let the tears spill over, grateful that in your last moments you were able to experience this kind of relief.  "No." Cassian growled, yanking on that bond again as you felt darkness creeping in on you like a fog. "You are not dying." Rhys' darkness pulled all of you into the healer's apothecary in the center of Velaris along the coastline. The dark waves outside offered no comfort to any of them. Especially Rhys as he watched his brother lose himself over you.  "Azriel, keep an eye on them." Rhys ordered, noting the way his shadow covered brother seemed to be more pale than usual. The plain exhaustion on his face from winnowing so far was hard to look at.  Cassian shushed and cradled you, not daring to look at your leg or the black splotches that dotted your hands from your fight. He nodded a quick thank you to Azriel when their eyes met. Azriel couldn't spare the energy back, and instead propped himself on a rigid couch in against the far wall. Cassian gently laid you down on the exam table, and waited for his brother to return. + "We can let her die, or we can heal her with the Cauldron's poison still there. We dont know what it will do, but it has infected too far to be reversible." Madja concluded with a heavy sigh. Rhys cursed under his breath.  Cassian's moan of terror wracked his brother's hearts. Madja continued stroking up and down your body with expertise. Cassian pulled at his hair. He wanted you to make the choice. He wanted you here to be able to tell him how the hell this all happened. He needed you, he needed to know everything about you. The tethering force he felt pulling back slightly seemed to tug, and he laughed hysterically.  "The entry wound will heal, but the sickness may kill her eventually." Madja's glowing palms were the only light in the room.  "Fix it. Heal her. Now." Cassian said the words in a low growl. Azriel stared at him, astonished even in his state.  "Cass, if she dies-" Rhys began, concern for his brother's fallout after the potential death. "She wont." the icy glare he gave Rhys made him shut his mouth. He hated seeing his brother so ruined over someone he just met. His mate. He tried to remind himself it wasn't just some female. It was his Feyre. He nodded to Madja, giving her the approval.  "Fix her Madja." The high lord's words were final. + It burned. Your entire body ached and burned and at the same time felt totally cool. The cold chill was eating you alive. You tried to scream, tried to push it away. Tried to run from what consumed you. But it only crept further and further up, until it encapsulated you completely.  Your back ached more than anything. You begged for the end of it. for anything to kill you. You didnt care if it was the Queens or the high lord you were sent to kill. Death would be the only relief from this kind of pain.  "The curse...mixed with Madja's healing created.... it made you... new." Cassian said tentatively. He had practiced it so much, he just didnt know how to tell you when you actually woke. The long nights of rippling pain shared with you suddenly became worth it to him.  You tried to push yourself up, but a heavy weight held you down. "Easy..." He said, a small grim smile gracing his lips. His eyes looked bruised, and swollen. the whites around his eyes were completely red, and his hair was a mess. The room was quiet, and cool. The house was completely open to the elements you realised, and it must have been freezing from the cold wind breezing in. He wore a coat over his tunic and hid his hands inside his pockets. His breath clouded in front of him. "What happened?" You demanded, searching for the bond he clutched so tightly to himself.  "Do you want to see?" He held a hand out to you for support and stabilization. It felt as if you were being pulled, dragged down by something.  He pulled the dark wooden framed mirror from the corner and adjusted it slowly, showing you what lay behind you. You felt your mind leave your body, dizziness overcame you. He caught you before you could fall to your knees before the mirror. He avoided the things.... the gargantuan counterweight on your back. The wings that pulled you down. The dark inky feathers that would have killed you if you were a part of Dawn court still. They shimmered under the faelight like raven's wings. Purple and blue mixing in a perfect darkness, even darker than the Illyrian's.  "Madja thinks it's the curse... mixed with healing. She thinks the cauldron intended to turn you into a beast cursed to follow someone forever in the form of a bird. Like Vassa." The words he spoke were just a faint hum after that. Your mind seemed to float further and further from you the more you stared to the mirror. He helped you up, but you could not be led away from the mirror. You stared and stared at the black wings that your body strained to hold up.  "I can help, if you'd like..." He said softly, knocking you out of your stupor. "If you want to learn, I mean." He nodded to the wings and took a breath, trying to ignore the oily scent the new wings perfumed the air with. It was intoxicating.  You turned slowly, going back to the bed. "Leave me." You muttered, trying to situate yourself comfortably on the pillowy softness.  Cassian's heart sunk. "Let me know if you need anything." He said softly, staring at your unresponsive body for far too long before exiting.  You cried. You let the sobs wrack your body the entire night, not caring how stained the pillows became with the salty tears. You cried until your body had nothing left to give, and at last your mind lulled you into a deep sleep. + Cassian's head ached with the strain of trying to comfort the bond. He was astonished at how you'd kept your shields up even from him throughout the healing. He guessed that the training you possessed was the reason the Queens had made you the perfect assassin for Rhys.  "She'll be okay. She can train with the Illy-" Azriel stopped himself mid sentence when he felt the fury rippling from Cassian. He hated the territorial mood swings he was having, but with the situation at hand he figured it was warranted.  Rhys tapped his fingers on the long table, and picked up a small pawn in the other hand. "Why would they make such a direct attack? And without a bargain? Why use a spell?" He let his questions flow out. It did not soothe Cassian to hear his mate being talked about like just some assassin.  "She wont know. She was under the spell the entire time. I can feel her more now, maybe I can-" Rhys interrupted his brother "Cassian I dont want you anywhere near her more than you have to. We dont know what she's capable of now." Cassian stood so quickly his chair fell, clattering against the stone floor. Azriel tensed, ready to break his brothers up from a fight. "She is my mate, Rhys. if I die by her hands then so be it." His voice was low, and dangerous. Azriel's shadows circled around both of them. Rhys' tired eyes did not leave Cassians. The challenge of two males ready to defend what they believed in. "Dare to order me and see what happens." Cassian said with a snarl, then took a plate of rolls and left the two Illyians.  Azriel sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His shadows dissipated, following the cracks in the stone house. He knew how bad the fight could have gotten and was relieved the building was still standing. Centuries of disagreements and he'd seen the two level a battlefield for less. He only intervened twice in all of those years. He didn't like to remember either occurrence. "You will keep watch over them?" "I already am." Azriel grumbled, making his way to his room. + The smell of warm buttered rolls was a welcome scent to wake up to. You didn't miss the lingering scent of him there too. You could hardly crack your eyes open, the swelling from the night before was getting better though. You reached back and touched the wings that had kept you burningly warm all night. The sensation was... incredibly sensitive. And when you pulled your hand away, it left your fingertips coated in oil.  "It'll go away after a few months." His voice startled you, but you were too tired to care much about him seeing you in such a messy state. He was supposed to love no matter what, right? That's what a mate was meant to be? Your mate. Mate. You body ached with the longing of needing him close by. "You should eat." He said around a mouthful of food.  "Are you always so pushy?" Your voice was rough, raw from the night of sobbing.  He smiled, and brought over the plate he was picking grapes from. "Only when necessary." He laid the plate on your lap and nodded to the rolls on your side table. "And drink, too." He sauntered back over to his seat at the other side of the room, a healthy distance apart.  You followed his orders though, picking little bites at the fruit and easily having three rolls. Something eased inside you, like a fracture becoming whole again. "How do you manage... with those? How-" You took a sip from your water and tried not to look at him. "How do you just... deal with these?" You unconsciously flared the wings when you thought of them. It was a strange feeling, like flexing a sore muscle.  "You'll learn eventually. It will take time to get used to it." He eyed you wearily, trying not to show his confusion. You felt it anyway.  "These are...upsetting." You admitted, "They are just like my fathers. Before he sold me for food for my mother. He was convinced she was carrying a winged male." You shook your head at the memory of the wrinkled man that had bought you. He included some spoiled corn in the deal. Your father handed you over without another glance back. Your mother didnt have much of a say. "He sounds like a conflicted male." You glared at him, wishing you had the strength to throw one of the rolls at him. He held his hands up at the stare, defending himself. "Not the selling you part, but doing anything for your mother... I understand that, now." He said slowly, testing the waters. "I have no family. I ally with no one. Working with the Queens was a risk I was willing to take, they didn't mention the part about killing a high lord." You picked at the blanket folded over your lap. The room was much colder than you remembered it being before.  He considered the words, and stayed silent. Waiting for you to say more. "When will he kill me?" You asked plainly, trying to not show your nerves.His face blanched. The bond came roaring to the forefront of your mind, burning with anger and guilt. "No one will lay a hand on you. By my life I swear it." He knelt on the floor by your bed and looked you in the eye. The honesty there, the full integrity of his being was flowing from him. You didn't know what exactly made you want to trust him, but it was irresistible. You nodded and took his hand, letting that connection flow through touch. You felt alight with hope soaring. Like a drug, he called to you. His eyes seemed to reflect the same back. The shame burned further until - a spark. An idea that you could almost feel out. "We can hunt him, together. Your father, if that's what you want. Then we can kill the Wueens. I will go with you." "You mean you'd die with me?" You laughed, the dark humor not scaring him a bit. The finality of the words stung deep in your gut when he didn't flinch. He dared not confirm how many times over he would, in fact, die for you. "They call me the lord of bloodshed. We might have a fighting chance once you figure out those wings." He winked, and you smiled for the first time in a long while.

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

More sub!hoshi plz??? Maybe sth based off his solo Touch??? Just an idea, no rush sweetie❤️❤️

Thank you for the request! Touch is one of my favorite songs so I listened to it, like, a hundred times while writing this lol. Also one of my personal favorite choreographies 👀

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!hoshi, fem!dom!reader, riding, breathplay?? (He wears a collar), thigh riding, mommy kink.

Special Show

Hot damn. That had been the only thing you could think of as you saw your boyfriend performing his new single Touch. Once Hoshi had told you that he had a solo performance, you immediately made sure to free your time and watch it. You had a lazy day at work and they released you early, letting you get home before Hoshi. You immediately went to the television, getting yourself comfortable with blankets and pillows. You turned on the t.v and flipped it to the channel he was going to be on and waited patiently for his performance. While you were watching other people perform, you decided to make some instant ramen for dinner as you waited for your boyfriend to appear on screen. You chuckled to yourself as you sat back on the couch with your food, knowing if Hoshi saw your unhealthy choice of food he would have thrown a fit. You snapped your head up with a smile, setting what was left of your food on the coffee table once you heard your boyfriend's name leave the MC's lips. You were slightly surprised as the music started, realizing the song was sexual. You swear your jaw almost fell off as you saw what Hoshi was wearing.

     The tight leather pants he was wearing hugged his beautiful thighs perfectly. The loose, black, silk button up he was wearing was tucked into his pants, showing off his thin waist. The shirt had the first three or so buttons undone, showing off his broad chest. He was also wearing a collar around his neck that had a ring in the center of it, which you realized would be perfect for the leash you had in your closet. His deep voice as he sang only made you squeeze your thighs together more. You bit your bottom lip as you saw Hoshi's body skillfully dance along to the music. 

     Your ramen sat on the coffee table, long forgotten, and for sure cold by now, as the lights dimmed on the stage, hiding your boyfriend from view. You sat completely still until the MC's voice announcing another artist to perform, snapping you out of your very lewd thoughts of your boyfriend. You reached for the remote and turned off the tv, getting up to throw away your cold bowl of ramen. When you got back to the couch, you looked at your phone to see you had received a message from Hoshi.

Hey bby!

I just finished my performance! (*˘︶˘*)

     You giggled at his messages. How was it possible that he could be this cute after being a literal sex god on stage?

I know baby

 I just saw it

Really? 

Did you like it?? ♡✧( ु•⌄• )

Of course baby!

I always love your performances ♡3♡

Aww, you're too sweet (//▽//)

     You bit your lip, thinking before smirking and sending him another message.

I was wondering…

???

Could you bring home the outfit you 

were wearing tonight babyboy?

Why?

Well…

I was hoping you would give me

 a more… private performance.

If you get what I'm saying.

     It took Hoshi a few minutes to respond, making you more curious by the second. Then he finally sent you a picture of the lower half of his face and down, still in the outfit he had on stage. He was biting his lip and pulling down the collar of the shirt slightly, showing off his collarbones. You bit your lip as you thought about leaving marks all over him.

I told them I would just get changed

at home cause I was too tired.

I'll be home soon mommy ❤

     You smirked and set your phone down, going back in your bedroom to retrieve the leash. You moved the coffee table out of the way, deciding you wouldn't be able to wait to get to the bedroom. You draped the leash over the arm of the couch. After waiting a few minutes, you heard the sound of the door opening. You immediately sprung up from the couch, meeting your boyfriend by the door as he finished taking off his shoes. He whimpered when you slammed him against the door, pressing your lips to his in a heated kiss. He dropped his duffle bag, you assumed it held the clothes he wore before the concert, before he tangled his fingers in your hair. You pulled back, hooking your finger into the ring on his collar and tugging him into the living room. You stumbled onto the couch, pulling him onto your lap and continuing to kiss him. 

     "Mommy really liked your performance today baby." You told him in a low voice once you had pulled away, squeezing his ass as you said it. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, his hips rolling lightly into yours. You leaned up so you were whispering in his ear. "Why don't you do it again, just for mommy this time." His breath hitched in his throat as you bit on his earlobe, before he nodded and reached for his phone. His hands were shaking slightly in excitement as you lightly trailed your fingers up and down his thighs while biting and sucking random spots on his chest and collarbones. He finally found the song and clicked it, standing up and setting his phone on the coffee table before standing in front of you. 

     You felt your heart stop for a second as Hoshi looked up at you with hooded eyes, starting to move his hips to the beat of the music. His movements were mesmerizing as he danced, unbuttoning his shirt in the process. When he had turned around you brought one of your hands up to squeeze his ass, making him whine as he continued to dance for you. When he faced you again, he had finished unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall down his arms and throwing it next to where you were on the couch. You bit your lip as you watched his torso muscles tense and un-tense as he expertly moved his body. When he had gotten closer to you, you grabbed his hips and pulled him to sit on your lap. He seemed surprised for a second before he seductively rolled his hips side to side, and sometimes into yours, in time with the music. You could see the prominent bulge straining against the leather pants he was wearing. 

     Your mind clouded with arousal as you moved so he was straddling one of your thighs and pushed his hips down onto it. He opened his mouth in a silent moan before continuing to slowly move his hips into your thigh. Pretty soon, both of you had completely blocked out the music as Hoshi was bouncing on your thigh with his head thrown back, letting out delicious sounds as he gripped your shoulders. You grabbed the leash from its place on the couch and hooked it into the collar. Hoshi moaned louder as you pulled the leash, bringing him face to face with you so you could leave kisses along his jaw. He whimpered as he moved his hips faster.

     "O-oh fuck- mommy! Mommy 'm gonna cum! F-fuck- please mommy!" You knew he wasn't begging for release, even though he was grinding into you as fast as his hips would let him. You grinned against his jaw and grabbed his hips, making him move them faster. He whined, his hands reaching down to claw at your biceps in panic. "N-no! Want mommy to F-fuck me! Please fuck me mommy!"

     "Mommy wants to see you get off on her thigh first, alright baby?" The promise of another orgasm made Hoshi scream out a moan and nod frantically. You smirked and tensed your thigh, making him gasp and let out one last moan before he came in his pants.

     "Look at what a mess you made, baby." You cooed at your boyfriend as you lied him down on the couch, sitting yourself between his legs. He mumbled incoherently, unable to give you a proper answer after his powerful orgasm. You removed your own clothes before reaching for the edge of his pants, carefully pulling them down his legs and removing his boxers soon after. You pulled at the leash making him whimper as you leaned down slightly to kiss him. As the kiss got more heated, you felt his dick twitch to life, making you smirk against his lips before you pulled away. He whined at the loss of contact before gasping as you gripped his cock tightly.

     "You're getting hard again already baby. You must really want me to fuck you, huh?" He whined as you leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Why don't you tell mommy how much you want it. Beg for it." You could feel the pants he let out against your ear before you pulled back to look at his flushed face. You loosened your grip on his cock, only barely brushing your fingertips along his shaft, making him whine out beneath you.

     "Please! Please touch me mommy!"

     "Where? You need to be more specific baby."

     "Fuck- Everywhere!! My d-dick, my thighs, my chest- everywhere! Please mommy!" You smirked, pleased with his answer before you grabbed his dick again, quickly stroking him. Hoshi cried out, throwing his head back in pleasure and grabbed the pillow under his head. You lightly trailed the fingertips of your other hand over the underside of his thighs, knowing how sensitive they were. He kept whimpering, his hips bucking up every once in a while to fuck into your hand. Once he was fully hard again, you took your hand off him. He whined in distress, bucking his hips up into thin air. You chuckled at his desperateness before moving to hover above the tip of his cock. You stayed still for a minute, seeing how long it would take him until he started to thrust up into you. He whined, tilting his head to look up at you. 

     "Please mommy… I've been a good boy, haven't I?" Your heart melted at the broken tone of his voice.

     "Of course you have, baby." You cooed at him, sinking down on his cock. He threw his head back with a whine, trying his best not to move his hips as you bottomed out. "Mommy's best boy." He whimpered and bit his lip. You slowly started to move your hips in a figure eight motion, speeding up once more and more noises of pleasure left his lips. It wasn't long before you had him screaming beneath you, writhing in pleasure as you bounced quickly on his cock. His hair was sticking to his forehead with a light sheen of sweat that covered his entire body. You readjust your grip on the leash you still held in your hand, lightly tugging it to make sure he would listen to you.

     "Look at you baby, all fucked out beneath me. You looked so dominating and intimidating on that stage earlier, didn't you? What do you think everyone would think if they saw you like this, moaning like a whore underneath me?" He moaned louder at the degrading nickname, his hips unconsciously bucking to meet yours.

     "F-fuck! I- AH- I don't care!! I-I don't care what they t-think!! J-just want mom-my to fuck me l-like the slut I am! M-mommy's good slut!" You groaned at his answer, bouncing on him faster. The new speed caused Hoshi to arch his back off the couch with a cry of pleasure.

     "That's right baby. No one else can fuck you like this, can they? My pussy is the only one that will ever be able to make you cum. Go on baby, I want to hear you say it." You growled in his ear, tugging the collar a little harder, making his whines louder.

    "S-shit! Mommy's the o-only person that can satisfy m-me! The only one that can m-make me cum! No one can touch me like you do mommy! F-fuck- You o-own me!" You leaned down, sucking and biting more marks onto his skin. "F-fuck mommy! I-I'm gonna cum mommy! Please let me c-cum mommy, please!!" His high pitched cries made you clench around him. He sobbed, a few tears falling down his face as he tried to hold it in. 

     "Wait." He sobbed again, his hips trying to leave the pleasureful feeling of your warm walls around him. You bounced on him faster, making his voice crack with a moan as you tried to reach your high. "Y-you only get to cum after I do, okay slut." He whined loudly, quietly hiccuping as more tears fell down his face. Having a little mercy on him, you trailed your fingers down to your clit, making your eyes roll back in your skull as you came with a groan. Hoshi cried out in relief beneath you, moaning hoarsely as his hot seed covered your soft walls. You both panted quietly, tears still falling down Hoshi's face as he tried to calm down. You looked up, wiping the tears off your boyfriend's face and gently kissing him. He happily sighed against your lips as you pulled him out of you. You pulled away, loving pressing your forehead against his. You slowly opened your eyes, taking the collar off of your boyfriend and throwing it somewhere. 

     "You okay baby?" He opened his eyes, smiling at your concern.

     "I-" he was cut off by a cough as his vocal cords had been pushed to their limits by how much he screamed. You hurriedly ran to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. He smiled up at you gratefully, bringing the glass to his lips once he sat up. You were about to hand him his boxers after you put on your own underwear, but decided to grab some from your room after seeing the drying cum that stained the front. You came back to the couch, gently tossing him some boxers. He slipped them on, almost stumbling the first time he tried to stand up from the couch. You giggled at him before scooping him up in your arms, carrying him bridal style to your shared bedroom. Hoshi let out a surprised shriek as he was lifted off the ground, throwing his arms around your neck.

     "Wah, my girlfriend's so strong!" You both laughed at his comment before you threw him on the bed.

     "You are such a dork, you know that right?" You told him with a chuckle as you cuddled next to him under the covers. He hummed contentedly and snuggled up to you under the covers, closing his eyes.

     "But you love me anyways." Hoshi mumbled with a small smile. You fondly smiled at his sleepy form, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

     "Yeah, I do."

[infernobot]

TEETH?

Teeth?

By InfernoBot

I had just finished recording, and was carrying my dog in from the office, when my mom handed me an envelope. Once I had my sweet pupper nestled into a blanket, I joined her on the couch and slit open my mysterious delivery. Inside was no note, just a brochure to something called ‘Furnal Equinox’ and an accompanying plastic badge bearing the image of a anthropomorphic dog, (maybe it was a wolf), wearing a graduation cap and gown.

As my eyes scanned the glossy pages, my excitement grew; some lovely person had sent me a weekend pass to a furry convention! This was my big chance to make a video detailing my adventures through a mass gathering of one of the internet’s most maligned and misunderstood subcultures. Over the coming weeks, I studied the brochure, read up on the panelists online, noted every question about the furry fandom that popped into my head. My itinerary for the whole weekend was mapped out. 

Super chats and KoFi tips managed to cover the cost of a bottom-barrel airline ticket, and I got a great deal on an Air B&B from a charming indiginous woman named Semide, whose sisters had enrolled in college and left their rooms vacant. She was even kind enough to include meals as part of the deal. The weekend of the con finally rolled around; I threw my things in a bag and I was off to Toronto.

Eighteen hours and three layovers later, I was sitting at my host’s kitchen table with a warm towel draped over the back of my neck, sipping a cup of coffee. It turned out Semide was a naturopathic healer and knew some kickin’ remedies for aches, pains and jet lag. I don’t put much stock in essential oils, but damn if I didn’t wake up feeling fresh and ready to face the day the next morning. The convention was being held on the waterfront about nine blocks from Semide’s place, not too bad for a walk, and I reckoned I could make the trek each day. 

I left late in the morning, well after the con had opened. No sense waiting in line, I figured. It was three blocks from the Westin Harbor Castle, when I saw the first fursuit. 

There was no explaining the rush of exhilaration I felt. This was real. This was happening. I was gradually being surrounded by dozens of people decked out in bright, elaborate costumes. Some that couldn’t afford full suits wore just heads and gloves, giving a ghoulish Frankenstein’s monster appearance to their character. Or the wolf-man caught mid transformation after being bitten by a neon fox in a rainbow pride shirt. The less daring, or particularly destitute, settled for headbands with animal ears and strap-on tails. 

Waiting to cross the last street, I was elbow to elbow with a giant Sonic the Hedgehog and a seven-foot tall purple giraffe sporting a quadruple-XL adult diaper. Something told me before the weekend was over, that particular garment would get filled. Before I could contemplate the logistics further, the light changed and the extremely polite, if curiously dressed herd moved into the street and we sorted into a semblance of a line being steadily processed through the doors into the main convention hall. I was in.

The lead-up to the main event hadn’t prepared me for what lay inside. A teenage girl in a ‘volunteer’ shirt thrust an opaque plastic bag into my hands before Big The Cat shoved me aside and began professing his undying love for her beauty. I stumbled into the row of booths on the main floor, further progress blocked by an electric green armadillo strumming an acoustic guitar with a stuffed fish tucked in the strings. 

This was it, I weaved my way between con-goers and took it all in. Clip-on LED cat ears. A custom-fit fang booth. Stacks of comics focused on humanoid animals. Racks upon racks of faux-leather collars and leashes. The waifu pillows. I pulled my phone from my pocket and approached the nearest open booth.

Time for an interview, I thought.

Eight hours, two energy drinks and a box of granola bars later, I was dead on my feet. There was no way of knowing how many people I’d talked to as the day progressed. Or just how strange my conversations had become. I think I spoke at length with Cool Cat about the merits of various vape pens, despite the fact I don’t smoke. But it hadn’t all been nonsense. 

Before I had degenerated into a gibbering wreck, I had chanced to be standing beside a fountain near the food court and heard a familiar warbling voice behind me. To my great delight, when I turned around I found a young woman with jet black hair, a hawaiian shirt and a black & yellow long-Furby draped over her shoulders; I instantly recognized her as Teya from Strange Aeons. After she’d finished speaking to her friend, I politely tapped her on the arm and introduced myself. She turned out to be super cool, excited to meet another youtube creator, and talked to me for about ten minutes as her girlfriend went off to wait in line for the bathroom. 

While most of our conversation centered around videos and our special boy Greg, my eyes kept getting drawn back to Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge. His black and yellow checkered belly, his luxurious black fur, those piercing green eyes; it was all so captivating. I couldn’t quit looking at the charm necklace below his little yellow beak spelling out his name; Thursday. Eventually, I complimented her on her videos and her handsome long-son one last time and we parted ways. It had been a pleasant break, but even here, the persistent strains of Insane Clown Posse that permeated the space were grating on my nerves. 

When the time had come for all the furry folk to close up shop and head home, I staggered out into the street with all the lingering con-goers. Despite the initial culture shock, most of the people I’d met had been great. I could stand here, elbow to elbow with ponies, foxskies, giant pomeranians and adorable cat girl maids on the steps of Westin Harbor Castle, and just enjoy the last moments of the sun setting over Toronto. That is until the moment was shattered by an obnoxious voice that sounded more like it belonged outside a Patriots game accompanied by the echo of shattering beer bottles. 

“Now that the party’s over, we can get down to the afterparty at my place; which of you bitches wants to come home with me?”

My head swiveled like a tank turret toward the source of the voice, my face bearing the expression which must have read did this motherfucker just?

A man-child wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt that had been stretched over his prodigious girth, a pair of denim jorts hanging past his knees and sweat-stained socks encased in mandles, slid his oily bulk up behind a group of teenage girls dressed as some kind of anime cat maids. He leaned his acne-studded face in close to them and said, “Since you’re dressed as maids, how about I take you home and make you change my cumm-y bedsheets after a night of passionate love-making.” 

The overly-polite locals may have been in shock, but I knew a neckbeard when I saw one and knew immediately what to do.

“How ‘bout you back the fuck off bro, they’re kids.”

Maybe he wasn’t expecting resistance, but he seemed genuinely taken aback by someone speaking up. Once he got a look at me, he re-adjusted his fedora and stared me down. I admit, I might not look terribly intimidating; bulky, but not muscular, with my hair dyed bright teal and swept to one side. At least I had on a Pink Floyd t-shirt, that felt a little like a layer of protection against his fed-aura. He drew in a snot-choked breath and continued,

“They’re dressed as the maids from Painappuru No Oshiri, they’re harem girls that’re totally thirsty for the main character. Each maid is eager to bend over and present their ripe ruby star-fruit to their master. They’re, like, practically advertising how much they want it in the ass.”

“Why don’t you leave them alone, fuckmuppet?” I retorted. “You look like you're forty and they’re a bunch of teen girls.”

He was not pleased with my argument. The group of cat-maidens had shaken off their surprise and closed ranks. But they weren’t ready when he lunged forward and grabbed at the petticoat of the red cat-maid on the outside, lifting her skirts up to expose the shorts underneath.

“It’s not even a chick, it’s a dude. Chill out.”

A glance at the cosplayer’s face revealed a mask of burning red embarrassment, fear and confusion. Their friends were moving to grab at the neckbeard’s hand, but I was quicker. I swatted his arm like I was chopping down the internet itself and pushed right up in his face. Practically nose-to-nose, I couldn’t avoid the stench of fermented funyuns rolling off his breath.

“Keep. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off of them.”

His chins quivered slightly. 

“Oh, you wanna start something, Rainbow Brite? I bet you like it in the ass, prancy-boy.”

“For a supposedly straight guy, you sure are obsessed with getting your dick in a guy’s butt.”

The flab of his cheeks reddened to match his acne.

“You’re gonna regret that. I’m a man with a very particular set of skills…”

I cut him off; I didn’t have the patience for a real-life copy pasta.

“Is one of your skills getting punched by me? Cause if you keep talking, you’re going to be teaching a master class.”

I could feel that neckbeardy-bravado wavering. Perhaps he could sense the crowd around us had turned against him, moving to shield the cat-maids and staring daggers into his lumpy flesh. With one last snotty huff, he turned and stormed away; the sound of his mandles slapping on the concrete echoed off the face of the convention center. 

A group of several of the more adulty-er people had ringed the victims and were doing their best to calm them down. I shuffled over and started to apologize for the beardo’s behavior, when the red cat-maid began thanking me profusely and asked for a hug. Apparently, this was not the first time their group had been approached at the convention. We stood around chatting for a while, and they promised to check Evangelion when they got home. Once the cat-maids were safely in their Lyft, I waved them goodbye and turned to make my journey home for the night.

I started back up the street I'd taken this morning, but as I approached the doorway to a grimey building, I became aware of a fully-suited Yogi Bear propositioning a man dressed like Linda-Carter-era Wonder Woman. I was pretty wiped out and didn’t have it in me to process an altercation like this if they noticed me and instead took an abrupt right turn down an alley, intending to zig-zag back to my Air B&B. 

I was nearly out the other side when my ears picked up the slapping of mandles on pavement rushing up behind me. A searing pain burst into existence in my lower back, like someone put a cigarette out on my spine. 

I went down, hard. 

The mylar swag bag I’d been swinging around all day splashed into a puddle off to one side. I was barely able to heave myself over onto my back to get a look at my attacker. It was him. The Neckbeard. He stood over me, grinning, his yellowed teeth visible in the night. The little black box in his hand flickered with a blue spark as he triggered the taser again.

“Heh heh. You like that, princess? I aimed a little high so I wouldn’t damage your sweet ass.”

“Fuck….you….” I gasped out through the pain. My muscles were cramping like someone had dug a burning fork into my lower back and twisted it up like a plate of spaghetti. 

“Heh. You’re the one taking it in the ass, rainbow bitch.” He stepped over me, squatting like a linebacker, bringing the taser close to my face. “Maybe I’ll push this in your eyeball and see if I can make it boil.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement between his legs. Something thin and dark darted up from the shadows, toward his exposed back. He let out a cry of surprise, and shot upright, swinging his arms wildly behind him, grabbing at something. He hopped wildly from foot-to-foot across the alley, the tail hanging from the back of his pants swaying wildly with the movement. I thought it was weird I hadn’t noticed the tail before, especially with how long it was, practically sweeping the ground. The fuzzy black appendage was moving...wrong. It kept curling up and twisting out of his hands as he grasped at it, almost as if it were...alive. 

“Oh Goddamnit!” He screamed. “What the fuck, dude?!” 

He dropped the taser and got a grip on the tail with both hands, tugging on it. A ripping sound echoed through the alley as the seat of his pants tore out. The thing was, the tail wasn’t attached to his pants, it was going in through his pants, nestled between his prodigious posterior cheeks like one of those fetish plugs. As he violently jerked it side-to-side, it was ripping at the fabric of his trousers, the same went for his less-than-tidey whiteys. 

“Get this fucking thing off of me!” He howled. 

He grunted as the tail slipped his fingers and wriggled another foot inside him. Tears were welling up in his eyes and he collapsed back against a green dumpster. Like a man who had gambled on a street taco truck and lost, he bit his knuckle and gripped his abdomen through his stained t-shirt. It might have been a trick of the light, but I swear I could see his belly distend and squirm; the words ‘Friendship Is Magic’ bulging as something rolled under them. 

His mandles dug into the alley grime as he feebly kicked his legs, and I could only watch in disgust as the rest of the fuzzy, black, thing slithered up inside him, forcibly dilating his leather cheerio. It was incredible. I could actually see its progress as it wormed its way through his body. He blubbered something about God and Jesus as his hand clawed frantically at his own belly, before his voice abruptly went silent. 

There was a long, drawn-out wheezing sound, like one of those novelty rubber chickens, as the bulk of the thing moved up his throat. I don’t know how his flesh distended and deformed without bursting, but it reached his mouth and his jaw opened wide. First one small black, fuzzy ear lined with black and yellow plaid popped up, then another, followed by the crown of this thing’s head, pushing his teeth outward like flower petals blooming. 

It rose before me, straight up from his mouth, its black and yellow belly slick, but not stained by his juices. His dislodged teeth clung to its matted fur like an obscene necklace. It swayed slightly in the moonlight, a pair of luminous green eyes fixed on mine, and its beak opened. With the rising inflection of someone asking a question, it uttered one word: 

Teeth?

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home- Chapter 8

Warnings: Dirty talk. Phone sex. Language. Angst.

True to his word, Chris called. He called once he’d landed and so courteously obliged you with one text every other day, or so. You’d baited him with the glorious bright idea that the two of you could goes rounds with the “friends with benefits” gag like it was freshman year of college, or something. So, who you were to even begin to pout about his less than romantic behavior?

He wasn’t a bad man, in the least. Chris didn’t have a cruel, purposely hateful or rude bone in his body, unless the necessity for behavior as such presented itself. You knew he wasn’t treating you cold just for pointless giggles, he was simply... obeying what he was sure you had agreed to only a week earlier.

Now, back home to the safe, familiar corners of Boston, you settled back into your schedule at the coffee shop with your parents. The editorial was due for print next month, and Tess assuredly told you that more work would indeed be coming your way, after your excellent impression in Malibu. But, until then, you’d need a paycheck somehow, so pouring lattes it was.

One Thursday, later in the afternoon when most normal individuals avoid caffeine, the shop was a weary ghost town. There’d be a light rush around 5 p.m. when the night shift crew made their round, but for the most part, all was silent. Until the rambunctious, raspy screech of one Scott Evans paraded himself through the entryway. He was handsome, like his brother, and as equally bombastic. Being the pridefully excellent judge of character he was, Scott had always kept a giggling eye on the way you pined after his older brother, but never saying an open word about your secret crush to anyone. Only occasionally, he’d shake his head, or hold back at laugh at your staring, or girlish blushes toward Chris.

He was leading Dodger by the leash at his side, the pup calmly sniffing around the display counters & hunting for some sort of crumb.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Millie. For God sakes.” He coolly lashed with a sarcastic smile, leaning forward to kiss your cheek over the counter.

“How could I not be thrilled to see my very favorite Evans spawn?” You bat your caky, day-old lashes at him.

“That’s not what a little birdy told me....”

Mortification made over your face, pupils explosive with the horrified, shit-eating grin forming across his smug face. Chris has spilled the beans...

Big mouth bastard & his shameless brotherly bond.

“Don’t start with me, Scott Evans, or I swear I’ll-“

“You’ll what?! Roll around in the Malibu sand with me like you did Chris? No thanks, angel. However gorgeous, you know you aren’t my type.”

You smashed your hot forehead to the coolness of the freshly cleaned granite countertop near the cash register. A fight was useless with this one. He’d only tease, and tease the more defenses you put up.

“Relax, Amelia. You know there’s no judgment here! I’m happy you finally got a taste of what all your teenage dreams were made of...” Scott suppressed a wailing laugh momentarily, before turning loose into a full-on fit of hysterics.

“What the hell do you want? My pride can’t take any more of your jokes today.”

“I’m watching this guy at my place while Chris is gone, but I’m heading out on a red eye tonight. Chris said you and Dodge hit it off, so he was wondering if you could go by his place tonight & settle Dodgy here in? I’ll be back Saturday night, so I just need to you check in on him tonight, and tomorrow evening.”

You worked haphazardly whipping together Scott’s predictable to-go order, scrunching your face at his suggestions.

“I’d really owe you. As would my dreamy older brother, too....”

As if that was supposed to convince you. It didn’t convince you, did it?...

Dodger whimpered on the other side of the counter, lunging on his back legs to see what you were doing running around fitfully in circles. His big ol’ brown eyes were no match for your objections. They had almost half the convincing power that the blue ones belonging to his owner did.

“Fine. Alright, alright. But, only for him. It’s got nothing to do with you asshole brothers, you hear me?” Your weak intimidation only made Scott laugh all the more.

Slinging the sweet pup a treat from the doggy jar on the shelf, and stealing a swig of Scott’s beverage before handing it over, the pair of them glided to the exit.

“Thank you! Have I told you that you’re my favorite blonde? Well, my favorite blonde barista. Or fashion blogger, or whatever you’re doing these days?” He winked & the glass door sealed behind him.

You picked up the key he’d left behind on the counter, eyeballing it hard. A faint part of your heart had once daydreamed about being giving a key to his home, but certainly not in this regard...

…

When closing time rolled around, you flicked off each switch around the shop, turning the sign opposite of “open” and your phone dinged inside the pocket of your cardigan.

C: Call when you get to my place. I’ll give you the rundown on bub’s nighttime routine. And thank you, Mills :)

You remembered every turn towards the quiet seclusion of his cabin home despite only visiting once. Much had changed since your last time here, and yet so much seemed slightly the same in all the wrong ways.

Dodger was panting & galloping clumsily over the hardwood floors when you entered, sniffing & drooling under your feet. It took you a handful of seconds to locate where in the world the light for the foyer was, playing roulette with the dozen switches on the walls.

“Let’s call your dad, big guy. I bet your hungry.”

The phone barely competed two rings before Chris picked up.

“Hey, you. Make it safe?”

“All in one piece, yep! But, something tells me if I don’t feed this animal, I may not survive much longer.”

Chris laughed. That laugh that would’ve seemed like you’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Right. Head towards the kitchen, & his jar of food is on the bottom shelf of the pantry. You’ll see it as soon as you open the door. He gets two scoops, and just check his water if you don’t mind, too.”

Following his thorough instruction, you served Dodger his dinner, seeing that his bowl of water was fresh, then walked him out back for a bathroom break before bed. Chris chatted with you on the line, small talking about his day on set, and the amazing desert he snuck at dinner going against his trainers’ orders.

“I think I’ve got it all taken care of. Anything else you need me to do before I head home?”

You heard his bed creak a bit in the background as if he was flopping around to get comfortable.

“Check my bedroom for Dodge’s lion. The little baby won’t sleep without it.”

He giggled at the amusement of you turning wrong corners & blindly navigating his hallways in search of the master-bedroom. You’d never been farther than the kitchen, after all.

Sadly...

His bedroom was warm with welcome, and the walls climbing with an unstifled, comforting feeling of home, even without his presence. Your senses heightened, tickling on end, with the many traces of him strewn around the room. A half-emptied bottle of water by his bedside lamp, a photo of his entire family framed from a premiere red carpet next to it. A tainted, overly worn pair of blue sneakers discarded beside his dresser, and one of his leather jackets haphazardly folded on the arm of a lounge chair. Dodger’s precious lion lay at the foot of Chris’ lush California king right where he said it would be.

“The lion is patiently waited in your bed for Dodger. Shall I tuck the two of them in before I lock up?”

He was eerily silently. Dangerously so.

“Sit on my bed, Amelia.” What was it about the way he said your proper name? It made you want to cower sheepishly, like it was some form of scolding. Yet, it was still so unbelievably… dark, and compellingly delicious.

You boosted with a teeny jump, sitting yourself on the very edge of his bed, perplexed. Smelling the scent of him locked into the covers.

“It’s a dream, isn’t it? And people wonder why I’m such a hermit sometimes. Lay down for a minute and see for yourself, I insist.” You could almost hear that dopey, toothy smile curve all the way up to his ears.

“What’s your game here, Evans? I need some sleep at some point tonight, ya’ know?”

“I bet you look fuckin’ heavenly laying yourself across my pillow, Millie. Is your hair down? Wild, and curly?”

A surge flickered at the center below the waistband of your jeans.

“Y-yeah…”

Chris hummed. It was a growl, more so. Rotten, and sinful, and wretched with sexual intent.

“And I bet, since it was warmer today in Boston, according to my mom, you’re wearing one of those thin, slinky little shirts you love that barely, barely hide what’s under your lace bra…”

Images of him sucking, and rolling what’s under that indeed lace bra hung up in your throat, threatening to choke the life out of you.

“I’d really love to see what’s under there, Millie. Kick your shoes off, and lay back, sweetheart.”

Without question, you obeyed his every command like a sheep to the slaughter, your nipples hardening as they caught up to the arousal his luscious voice had prompted.

“Tell me, Mills. Do you wish I was there with you? In my bed, right now?”

You’d never believed in the schemes of hypnosis. Obviously, because there was “no way your mind was weak enough to be manipulated by something as such.”

End quote.

But his snaky smooth, rumbling, throaty accent on the other end of the phone brainwashed you.   

“Yes.”

High fives all around for Amelia Calvert’s ability to play coy, and hard to get.

“And, would you let me touch you? I really, really want- no, need, to touch you, beautiful.”

You wouldn’t just let him touch you. In fact, you’d beg mercilessly for him to take your every body part into his veined hands.

“Are you asking to go to 2nd base with me, Christopher Evans?”

And so, it began. The sexual, meaningless, no-strings relationship that you had so very, very foolishly advised. It felt like some form of cruel punishment, but you’d hold up your end of the bargain, however empty, used, and desperately pathetic it made you feel. And then, you’d allow yourself to crumble in pain later.

“I’m asking to run the whole fuckin’ field with you, Amelia. But, I’d settle for 2nd base.” Chris answered without a stutter of second guess.

“I’m thinking about your hands on me right now, too. Tugging through my hair as I kiss you. Hard. Do you know where I’d put my hands, baby?”

There were a few guesses, but, what fun would it be the fill in the blanks? However much you hated the arrangement, the hot spot between your legs was thumping with anticipation.

“Nnn-no. Where would you put them?”

“I’d have to begin with a squeeze to those round, screamingly perky tits, first and foremost. Then, I’d pet all the way down, counting your ribs slowly, whispering the numbers in your ear as I went downward…. Do you know what I would do next, Mil?”

In some sort of blood pumping, sex-crazed trance, you had wriggled loose the button of your jeans and the seems of your panties stretched as your hand fiddled inside them.

“Tell me.”

He was whispering moans now. Carps of a yearning, feverish nature scratched through the speaker of your phone, and you wanted to cry in ecstasy knowing he was undoubtably shirtless, and his straining muscles sweating and sticking to the sheets of his bed.

“I’d tuck my hand inside your pants, too eager to worry with pulling down your zipper, and touch your softest spot. I bet it would be warm, too. And wet for me, Millie. Is it wet for me?”

Surprised that he couldn’t hear the sloshing, water-like sounds coming from your side of the line as you slid between your folds, you answered.

“Definitely. Unbelievably.”

“I wanna feel it, Millie. Taste it on my lips for days after you’ve left me.”

His bed where you lay squeaked when your back arched in an imaginative fit, ruminating thoughts of the texture of his tongue.

“Touch yourself like I would touch you. Arch your back just as your finger skims over your fucking greedy clit.”

“Are you…? Are you touching yourself, too? Touching like I would touch?”

“How would you touch me, Amelia. Talk to me, gorgeous. Tell me how you want me to touch myself.”

Your building trembles captured you, and truly the idea of him touching his hardness didn’t quench your whines. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to take the plush of him into the palms of your hands. But with the distance of another time zone, this night, you’d resolve with him thinking thoughts of you as he relieved himself.

“Squeeze yourself, Chris. Hard with both hands at first,” your voice quaked and broke with the spasms inside your belly. “Then, go so slow from top to bottom. So slow it almost makes you angry.”

Your hand fisted in his feather pillow beneath your head, hair matted from twisting & writhing with impending orgasm. Chris was silent for a moment. Well, silent from words. His continual mewls desperately crying in your ear, you swore your name was mixed into the soundtrack of his unwinding.  

“Pull off your pants, Millie. I want you to spill out onto my sheets so I can lie in your come when I get home and into my bed. I wanna smell your sweetness.”

Your finger attempted to cramp, unable to keep up with the swirling fast circles you spun around your bulb. With jeans pooled around your ankles, your heels dug in to sturdy yourself.

“I’m so- I’m close, Chris. I feel like I’m going to fucking explode.”

“I’m with you, baby. Your voice alone is making me crazy hard. You sound so fucking desperate for me, and I swear, I’m losing it.”

All went black, and the vision behind your sealed lids was like a rippling kaleidoscope of fiery reds, and white-hot clouds of a volcano. The wet release of your orgasmic liquid tickled out of your entrance, sliding down your legs and curving below you off the curve of your rear cheeks.

As if your squeal was his switch, a glutenous, muffled yell scratched from Chris’ chest indicating his own eruption.

You didn’t know what to say when the clouds of orgasm had passed over. The moment felt strange, being your first sexual exchange with him, and suddenly a shyness caught your tongue.

“Mil, you still here?”

“Yes.” Was all you could muster.

“Are you okay? I mean, what’s going on? That was okay, right…?”

“Of course, Chris. It was, phenomenal. Was it for you?”

Sure, the twinges of your southern lips felt phenomenal. But, lets evaluate your heart right now. 

“Sweetheart, the mess I’ve got spilled out onto my belly right now speaks for itself.”

Oh, you blushed. Dodger looked up at you from standing at the side of the bed, recognizing the voice of his dad now that he’s tenor was back to its’ normal octave.

“It’s a bit late. Why don’t you sleep there tonight? Dodger would love the company, anyways. You’d have the whole place to yourself.”

The idea didn’t sound completely absurd. And truthfully, after such a raunchy, cheap exchange with him, you liked the intimacy of him wanting you to stay in his home while he was away, no matter what the motive may be.

“Earth to Amelia. Talk to me. Get out of your head, worry wort.” He shook you to reality.

“Just tonight. Only because it’s late, and it seems to be storming out.”

“Dresser by the closet door. Top left drawer.”

“Huh?”

He laughed. “Just get up and go to the drawer, Ameila.”

You pulled your legs loose from your pants, knowing you’d have to clean yourself up before sleeping. You opened the specific drawer to find it stocked with square folded t-shirts. The enclosed space full of cotton immediately smelled of him.

“You’ll need something to sleep in, I’m assuming. So, take your pick. And help yourself to my shower. There’s some weird minty shit that my sister left the last time she stayed over, you can use it so you don’t have to use my soap.”

Your chest wanted to heave out a giddy, girly squeak. It appeared from his thought-out suggestions, that he had pre-planned you sleeping over when asking you to check in on his pup.

“Hotel Evans, huh? You better hope you don’t have any Brigham’s in your freezer…” It was the ice cream you’d both grown up on being Bostonians, and Chris could eat it by the gallon.

“Help yourself to whatever, buddy! What’s mine is yours, of course.”

Gulp.

Buddy….?

You felt that sick, putrid, sour taste of cheap slithering up your throat again. He smacked you, unintentionally, with a punitive dose of reality. You were only his friend. He couldn’t do anything more right now. No chances of a term other than buddy being exchanged between the likes of whatever this was. And suddenly, the welcomed invitation to his bed no longer appealed.

“Thanks… buddy. Steer me in the direction of your guest room, and I’ll let you get to sleep yourself.”

“Don’t start with that shit, Mil. Sleep in my bed. You’ll definitely be more comfortable there. And Dodger keep a close eye on you, too. No arguments!” He scoffed.

More comfortable? Oh, but you wouldn’t be. The stanch fragrance of his cologne would suffocate you all night, you just knew it. Yet, there was still no other place you’d rather be than tucked into the indention on his side of the bed.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way! Good night, Evans. Get your beauty rest. Your ugly mug needs it.”

“Night, Mils. Make sure you activate the alarm before you go to sleep. I’ll call you bright and early to check in.”

You’d turned your back, and Dodge was already nestling and settling into the spot on the mattress next to where you’re sure Chris slept, his stuffed lion close by.

“Oh! And Millie?”

“Yep?”

“Dream of me. After the noises I heard from your pretty mouth tonight, I know I won’t be able to think of anything else.” 

Tags: @miidailyinspiration @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegood-blog

[glopratchet]

retirement-home

of astryl wylde, and barricades with blood, the remains of an undead army, a large group of humans are marching towards the castle to capture the young novitiates, astro's guiding light fading fast with helmets for some reason, from something identifying itself as a "police officer" but definitely not a demonic entity of the infernal plane site guarded by a meched out robot called "m swapping out the rubble squad and suddenly yelling a number of racial slurs and insults directed at the current heroes A love maze hacked into by bandits, going around cutting and gauze coming off a machete and suddenly being used against the whores' fathers, uncles, brothers floating in a tank above The treasure room: filled with safe deposit boxes, but dead heroes Solid walls made of muscle for demonic possession Ex-hero turned torturer absorbed into whores' father made out of rusting car bodies made out of body parts glowing pink chamber, aces and other high rollers lounging around a blackjack table Turing machine with tape recorder attached instead of computer staring down from trees floating along a river A long red carpet leading up to a complex of caves holding a dark tower a technological compound located in a maze beneath guild fortress Gold ingot affixed to tires of an abandoned sports car protruding from wall taking brains out of tank to make adjustments to cyborg Roller derby taking place inside maglev train leading to a red brick factory building upright on two legs topped with a canine snout, ears replaced by headphones, tongue replaced by a forked length of metal a graveyard and defended by ghouls, zombies saying with broken english howling at the gates that lead inside a rubber hose with one end inserted into chest, pumping the other end until it hisses air and injects it into arm y brain lying beneath skull-shaped ashtray Giant bloodworm forcibly injects itself into car accident, taking on the role of defense attorney and saving heroes replaced with roided out hospital patient with tribal tattoos reading a "health" pamphlet with pitbull head cropping up in mineshaft, howling back cheese-loving rabbit filling hole with maggots Bloody biker gang defending hooligans fishing bodies out of ocean Skull toting around a around cafeteria, trading blood packets for peanut butter sandwiches residential hallway lined with dark brick leading to a incinerator chute pizza spinning hypnotically as center of hivecraft bakery built inside Giant brain in a jar of green fluid hooked up to many machines pumping red pills Bloody agent off-duty, taking day off to work in sweaty coal mine filled with moles Mutations of ingredient animals leading up to cafeteria's meat locker working in a padded cell and making tight knots in ropes Sonar tech dolphin with human teeth crafting perfect 3D pictures out of translucent paper, always watching the chemical reaction, spoon-stirring clear liquid in pipe cleaner frame bottle Lightbulbs with eyes replacing the head, leading a team of roaches performing circadian mowing grass and trees with buzzing electric clippers beloved pet in attempt at perfect skin, cat with hair all bunched up in chaotic star pattern Manic pixie dream druggie replacing chemicals with luminol illnesses no doctor ever has, discovering new syndromes furry rodent, making sure every hair lies gently over the next Scat singing improvising jazz demon leading a pan flute band an asian woman, being walked on a leash by an obese man in a midlife crisis Bioengineering two headed kitten replacing scientists at atomic clock facility Man a roguish charm that tricks victims of violent crimes into turning themselves in damed, fragile corpse up close for police records Catalogue everything beautiful in a cold and calculated manner with peer before leaving them to die A day where everything is perfect for absolutely nobody senile luddite lacking cranial ports who stays such a frenzy that artificial hands replace natural ones replacing trash collecting truck's engine with that of a car Security guard painted gold using celebrity blood as self tanner Utility fog turning city street into haunted mansion destroyed by plane Fairies farming fungi fairy rings Derro experimenting on golem skin disease, making a metal plague to wipe out rival syndicate hobgoblins submerging residential area in a hyperbolic chamber rewarding monsters for dedicated service with a paint job on new runway leading into neon-illuminated fog Runners delivering pot of gold to sitting area tied to railroad tracks Man selling barbed wire to fence with visual malfunction Snapdragon seed sputtering in the breeze And that's it! everyone within an inch of their lives Resident egghead removing backwards writing from all police reports Having enamored a river spirit, a bargain is struck to collecting fruit and making uncanny valley holograms to sell as produce Zombie-eyed infant model eating solar cells as curiosity takes over artistic lense Times New Roman self-diagnosed sociopath who tries to take over the world as an act of revenge taking illegal guns and replacing the gunpowder with stool softener Solar panels operating at peak efficiency by day and glowing at night Please upvote this post in an abandoned neon sign These demons raid the servers of a famous novelist Volume brought to deafening levels as class projects flood in dealing with zombie plague and masquerading pain as pleasure Mistaken for a super nova, space station is mistaken for a UFO under blankets of stars quite easily addressed Foundation comprised of passionate, yet incompetent white knights struggling with iron overload juggernaut commanding the respect of a king Haymaker left hook causing immediate and fatal brain damage to some athletes with daddy issues turning dreams into internet points and punching the rich in their bourgeoisie Instructing demons to train dogs for protection based on urban legend Preparing urchin homes in tubes and lizard scales dreaming up exo-planetary bloodsports Crowdsurfing at Heavybites concert into a vat of toxic waste into a hillside of two-bit crimes and dead-end jobs Releasing heavy metal album with medieval torture devices as inspiration Putting down shelter stopping hearts filled with a lethal amount of painkillers leaves bowl half-empty for some reason and nervous twists of a bumbling idiot Chauffeuring the coffin hotel This rotten carrion feasting on hospital waste deserves attention hundreds of miles long covered with thousands of tons of garbage on garbage Making doilies from human teeth Lycanthropic rats offer discounted heroine in their tunnel maze booths surrounded by runaway trains Exports include sewage and toxic waste Graveyard of shoddily screened phones with worn-out batteries Releasing coral snakes and Toll booth to a bankrupt turnpike Skipping to East L because getting their prescription renewed is taking too damned long! hotel of Xeno-produced downtempo Music streaming through cheap speakers Barges full of deer draped in Goji berries Dozens of ladders addict promoting solar panels with faded tattoos Drugs and hookers bleeds dry host more every day A group of cloaked hags make their rounds Matching silver bracelets disguise gang colors of an old woman living on main drag Empty ranch house discarded for the city lights Unlicensed doctors freshly painted headstones of wind smelling like aftershave and formaldehyde injections made from crushed insects Whole-bodied automatons trying out hip new clothing brands Tendency for the mindless army to follow their leader slav to enhance strength and agility by a factor of eight Long-stem rose for a first-date dinner with a vampire fanatics chanting for human- hunting competitions in the arena Secondary arm used for primary, seeing if it can continue without it illuminated by a pulsating womblike membrane Arrival at ached-foretold destination with dead GPS Masterful motion detector sitting on empty leather chair of recently liquidated telemarketers Colonies of jeweled spiders weaving new master's throne Perfectly reflective floors leading to underground pool virtuoso playing songs to his plants Mound of excrement and toilet paper curling around the drain pieced together into castle for dolls and action figures Lifetime of old newspapers piling up in hallway of seahorse and conch shells in curio cabinet Acrylic Zombie feet used as bookends on Ikea coffee table pile of sea anemone skeletons See: Quagga mussels growing 1 5 inches every day loading chemical feeding frenzy Metal lockbox and two dozen melted pistol barrels Dislocated limbs being surgically removed cooks lifting boxes full of organs Autopsied child with fatal cranial swelling Colony of epileptic coral clustered around human skull surgeon and his mentally defective assistant A morgue disguised as a taxidermy museum gift shop -infected calendars stuck on random dates Bags overflowing with leaking saline-solution and blood hopelessly pushing Humvees to get them out of the way Wading through crunchy autumn leaves for miles shot adding two more hours to cheat death Barefoot and wrapped in bloody bath towels Corpse itching from maggots displaced by fresh cuts bricked into their own hallway Everybody gets the shits after drinking the water monster from a Japanese horror film with skin parasites Big black frothing chunks of flesh exploding diarrhea of nose-hair-clogging, dense, mucusy goo some old Indian told you your first week in the hotel Some see it as a disease safe haven and refugee camp determination of the sub-conscious brain's fears Some beachside and forest hideouts in the middle of nowhere of the deceased 28th President's daughter Stinging insects populate the surrounding swamps Send in the military to cleanse everyone and everything of the rot-resistant zippers on your forefather's safe for vision and ideas by the GSA-appointed leader Litigation between bloodthirsty lawyers and corrupt jury from melted snow trickling down the walls Camouflage in the forest, grass, and rocks all around you from your double-crossing, brimstone- hellbound Father Surgical removal of parasitic twin fetuses attached to your spine the cyborg supervisor monitoring your every move Catalogs flooding the hotel with trade workers and potential hostages men making a 100% more effort-- 300% more loot! Blood-caked machete meat cleaver thrown into the furnace razors, and other crucial supplies consumed The neon light flickering imitates the rhythm of hums pearls, and other gems for portraits sitting on dressers Variety of knickknacks and memorabilia from around the world toys sweep under pillows and between mattresses Forlorn light saffron-robed monks shed quiet tears industrial perfumes pumped into your room suffocate you Silverfish skeletons and moth wings piling up in the closet sprays spaying your gardenview room Useless, broken gimmicks and gadgets electrocuting you haggle over who gets what and how it'll be used Which schools, sketchy private or governmental organizations get to screen for fieldtrips and celebration of masculinity Musicians for weekend retreats to get high Surgeons for classes struggling to keep up for the cold, plague-infested northern frontier Soldiers for war-games and accidentally killing each other competitors for photo shoots and competitions None because they think they can get somewhere on their own They do amazing things with what they've got gays wallow in the cheapest corner of the hotel Young, impressionable experimenting homosexuals The families of same-gender lovers banished to malnutrition zones to change you from Utopian to sub-human in a breeding program Inferior Americans with the wrong genes will be eradicated and manufacturers get rich, corpse eaters the opposite Sorrowful fatties give their children a once in a generation chance at life redesigned with supermodel abs and bulging muscles bred for biological and sociological experiments millennia ago The 21st century the pool of vomit and dirty needles floats by -colored sludge oozes over the city Cranial- defects, alcoholics, and degens create empires glide everywhere and everything is shared Psychedelic trance dancing to save the world too gross for red-blooded humans The rotting, fetid meat that passes for brains siphon powers from the ancient sewage system Rats and lice feasting on trash and mutants overcoming your will to live one moment at a time Your filthy naked body marinated in blood and vomit high-arched feet battered and bruised and malnutrition give you anemia, Goiters the size of melons throb and pulse Yet your calf muscles bulge with power The clomping of your hooves crushing stones Finally given a chance to prove your worth glow in the radiated water and cantaloupes distended and heavy with juice Baskins & Robbins 31 flavors of ice cream in a cone -diving maggots and fleas for under privileged or anyone! Laborers unloading the freshest of arrivals truck and ladies' man for the sweetest girlies in town Down-on-their luck drifters including paroled thieves, dealers and pimps buggy racing across the desert on a stimulant Steal to survive, thrive by wits alone or turn tricks clothing snatching the eyes The safest, usually with a jewelry store in the basement Branding, tattoos and body mods done on site army boys marching in lockstep Take the mopping job to be close to princess fresh blood their hearts pump gunpowder and their minds are weapons Not eligible for mind-wipe or re- placement drinking vodka instead Bio-engineering students replace bodies with machines Take ancient engine of destruction for a joyride feeding time at the botanical garden Plush and velvet splendor in a chintz chair Women have success, men fail at the Bite-o-Mania food cart An illegal basement chop shop for bikes and cars and cold, hard cash covered in a soft, warm peritoneum Working stiff possessed by envy for the office drone The deserters next attack could be your bunker Wayward sentinent Kryton tubes generating waste heat unlikely to survive outside controlled environment Thought-leader and crowd-driver influencing the masses are almost human, subject to scientific curiosity Livery with carved iconography and bright colors Mendicants, beggers and mercenaries almost pick your own lot Old Mother Mallard's Rusty Charognards Saloon Gliding as long as possible until the last moment The screaming and wailing of fetid winds If too deep you'll fall the rest of the way through the earth and hit whatever is on the other side This is the essence of skydiving or free falling in layman's terms so you may substitute it for the eggs damaging it or even break so try for that speed also, learn the location you will fall or descend from and do you math using the freefall calculator on this site i give you : Just forward momentum, right? Well it really isn't it's just like anchoring a parachute except your moving object is the Earth and not yourself ther are lines in this story that just keep tugging away at you after losing your love to the treachery of a jealous witch hmF! Sorry, my intent was not to stubivkzny ah, I mean stQrb? b you

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night- Chapter 11

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

It seemed like only a minute had passed as Luke and Penelope sat before the beautiful, electric fire trading lazy, sensual kisses. Suddenly they felt the engine cut out and the boat stopped swaying. A knock sounded at the cabin door, and they heard Captain John’s voice informing them they had docked.

“Do we have to leave the boat?” Penelope asked, her lower lip shaped into a perfect pout, the kind a Hollywood starlet in the 1920’s would have built a career on. “This afternoon, just the two of us, has been so perfect and I’m not sure I’m ready for reality just yet.”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry Chica, but that’s a yes. We’ve got places to be. Up with you, or we’re gonna be late,” he said, standing and then reaching his hands out to her. He easily pulled her off the sofa, and directed her ahead of him to exit the cabin, slapping his leg for Roxy to follow. He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text as they climbed the narrow oak stairs that led back out to the deck.

They gathered their things, and reattached Roxy’s leash. Shaking hands with Captain John and exclaiming their absolute delight at the experience, they conveyed their hopes to return again in the future. Then they descended the narrow stairs again and crossed the gangway to the dock. Hand in hand they walked back up the wooden dock, turning back once to wave at Captain John. When they reached the parking lot Luke again opened the door of the truck for Penelope and helped her climb into the cab. This time he placed Roxy in the kennel that was secured in the truck bed. Stopping for a moment at the tailgate, he checked the text he’d received. Then he slammed the tailgate shut and rounded the car, opening the door and swinging himself up.

Penelope had been looking at herself in the mirror on the back of the visor. Ugh, she looked awful. Not a trace of the morning’s carefully- applied makeup remained. It had been erased by the spray of the water and the wind. In its place, however, was the faintest sunburn on her cheekbones and a bit of wind burn on her lips. Or maybe they’re swollen from all the kissing she’d been doing. Well, regardless of the reason, she was looking like a hot mess. Repairs were definitely needed to both hair and makeup if they were not done with this adventure. She sure hoped he didn’t think he was going to be walking her straight into some fancy restaurant with platform sneakers, his hoodie, and frizz-tastic hair. For the love of God and all things fluffy, let the man take her to a bathroom with decent lighting and a plug for her curling wand. Hearing him open his door, she slammed the mirror closed and returned the visor to its original position. Turning towards her door, she pulled her seatbelt across her chest, buckling herself in.

“Off to Roxy’s dog sitter, right?” she asked, her voice a little bright with the false cheeriness she was projecting to cover up the sudden nerves at not knowing what was planned and the bit of insecurity she felt sitting next to the FBI’s own Puerto Rican Ryan Gosling without even her makeup as a security blanket.

“Actually, tiny adjustment in the timetable. We’re running a smidge late, so instead she is going to meet us at our next stop. Saves us having to double back, that way we can make up time and get to Alexandria,” Luke said, grinning over at her. “You’re going to need the go-bag you brought for our next stop. We will be changing- you did say you brought something for tonight, right? If not, I will be happy to swing by a shop and pick up something myself,” he said, licking his lip wolfishly and winking at her. “I’m sure I can pick out something sexy for you,” he practically growled low in his throat.

“Luke Matthew Alvez,” she giggled as he shook his head “no” at her latest guess. “Well, Luke whoever you are, you should know that I accomplish sexy all on my own, and I am definitely prepared. Give this beast an hour in a proper bathroom with what’s in that bag and she will emerge a beauty once more,” Penelope said, flipping her hair best she could with it spilling messily out of what had been a very charming braid some hours ago.

Luke stopped the car at the line as the light turned yellow to red. He turned and cupped her cheek. “You are gorgeous Chica, whether your hair is all tousled on the pillows in your bed or from the waves and wind. I get lost in your brown eyes, with or without the smoky eye makeup. And your lips- I can’t get enough of them. Sure, the red lipstick drives me wild. But I like them bare too, so long as they end up against mine,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her before the light changed. A car behind them honked the horn, and he turned his attention back to the road, lifting his foot off the break. “You’d look sexy tonight no matter what Penelope Grace, but I will enjoy seeing you all dolled up and watching everyone see how lucky I am,” he said, letting his right hand drop from the steering wheel to land on her leg. Massaging the muscles of her left thigh through the fabric of her denim skirt and leggings, he navigated them away from the marina and towards downtown.

Penelope contented herself with looking out the window, pondering what a smooth talker Mr. Strong and Silent turned out to be. She was enjoying the feel of his firm fingers pressing into the flesh of her thigh. Mmmmm, maybe she’d let him continue that later on this evening. Although… what if he’s one of those guys who are only in it for the chase, and once they’ve “had you” they’re off, looking for the next challenge. He did hunt fugitives for years… She’d better be cautious- you know what they say. Play with fire, you’ll wind up burned. Best to keep a firm grip on her heart until she knew if he’s really into her, and not just the challenge of nailing the girl who wouldn’t even make small talk with him last year…

Penelope let the somber thought slip away as they pulled into a parking garage firmly in the center of downtown Alexandria. Being one of the closest suburbs to Washington D.C. it was usually a pretty bustling area, especially on weekend nights. Most of the lower levels of the garage were already full of cars. Luke pulled them all the way to the top floor, where there were a surprising number of available parking spots. They pulled up next to a silver, older-model sedan. “Roxy’s sitter, Maggie. Thought it would be easier to make the exchange if we could actually pull up next to her so I told her to meet us at the top of the structure. Just let me get Roxy and her stuff loaded into her car, and we will be on our way down the elevator,” Luke said, sliding out of his door.

Penelope gathered her purse and her bag while Luke led Roxy to the back of the young woman’s car. She looked like a college student probably, nineteen or twenty years old. She was pretty, but wasn’t dressed in any way that seemed to obviously invite attention. She had on sweats and an old, faded graphic tee over a long sleeve shirt. Nothing flashy at all. Penelope wondered why a pretty young girl her age would rather spend Saturday nights at home with someone else’s dog, and made a note to ask Luke about her later. 

Luke returned to the car, collecting the button down and leather jacket he’d brought, as well as his dress shoes from earlier. They waved to Maggie as she and Roxy pulled out of the spot and headed down the levels of the parking garage. Luke took Penelope’s bag from her, and then placed her hand on his elbow as he escorted her to the elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby floor and they descended in the small, enclosed car. “So, do you have any idea where we are headed, Chica?” he asked, raising his eye brows. “Have you hacked my phone, read through my texts? Maybe run a search of business establishments within walking distance from the garage?” he teased, his dimple showing as he smirked at her. 

“Well Luke, I did consider sending a quick text to Reid. He could have answered the question regarding the establishments within a reasonable radius around the garage, and he would have automatically filtered based on a semi-casual dress code and likely locales for a first date, but I decided to just be surprised,” she said, with a saucy wink of her eye.

“Well, then it is good you want to be surprised my little troublemaker, because surprised you shall be. First off because where we are going would never have occurred to Reid, and it wouldn’t have shown up on one of your searches either based on those criteria. And, this is not our first date Chica,” Luke said, as the doors opened. He put his hand on her lower back, guiding her as they exited the elevator and turned right, heading down one of the main streets that ran the length of the downtown area. “Last night was our first date: sleepover. Chaperoned by Roxy, of course. I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he laughed, raising his pointer finger. Adding his middle finger, he continued, “Second was breakfast. Our third date was the boat ride at the marina,” he stated, ticking off his ring finger. Unfolding his pinky as well, he turned toward her and pronounced, “This is actually our fourth date, Penelope. I’m rather astonished that one who trades in information is paying so little attention to the milestones of our relationship,” he teased. They passed two more store fronts before Luke stopped them in front of an elegant brick building. “Here we are, Chica,” he said as he turned her to face the door they’d arrived at.

Penelope looked at the door, and then to the large picture window next to it. The curtains were drawn, but she could see clearly illuminated on the glass the scrolling letters that announced the shop’s name to passerby: Alex’s Day Spa and Salon. “Eeeeeek!” Penelope squealed. “You brought us to a spa?” she asked, spinning to face Luke.

Looking down at her, his eyes twinkling with laughter at her obvious delight. “Yes, we have an appointment here. Or actually, we have a few appointments. We will start with a half hour couple’s massage, and then we have a couple’s mani/pedi arranged before you get your hair and makeup done, and I get a trim and a straight-razor shave. How does that sound?” he asked, squeezing her hand in his.

“How does that sound?” she exclaimed. “That sounds, Luke Esteban Alvez, like our fourth date is already my favorite!” she shouted, throwing her arms around him exuberantly. “Is it? Esteban, I mean, is that your middle name?” she asked, her mouth reaching up as close to his ear as she could reach. He brought his own mouth down, pressing a kiss to her neck, his breath tickling her. “Not even close, Chica,” he chuckled. “Wait,” she said, “Why am I getting my hair and makeup done as well? We aren’t going somewhere after the salon, are we?” Penelope asked, wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

“Patience, Penny,” Luke chided. “One secret at a time.” Luke stepped back and held the door open so he could get her inside before her curious nature made them late for their appointments.

[lobsters-on-their-heads]

Come Back

Trying out an idea.  What Delphine sees before she almost dies.  Also found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11878743

Sunlight danced in the air overhead when Delphine opened her eyes.  She was home, in their bed, in their bedroom, warm and soft and heavy with sleep.  

“So, are you, like, gonna stay in bed all day, or what?”

Cosima was beside her, propped up on one elbow and gloriously naked.  She didn't even have her glasses on. Her eyes sparkled golden, the way they did when she was particularly amused by something or pleased with herself.  Her skin glowed in the sunlight, begging to be kissed and caressed.  She was as beautiful as Delphine had ever seen her, but Delphine could only lay there and look at her.  

“Hm?”  Cosima cocked her head and a dreadlock fell onto the pillow.  “Sleepyhead.”  She pulled a joint from behind her ear and moistened the tip with her mouth. “You've got too much to do to just sleep, babe.  You know that. Come on, get up.”

But Delphine's arms didn't work.  She felt her body tucked into the covers on the bed, comfortable and so, so weak.  She just needed to sleep, to rest, to stay here for a little bit longer....

* * *

Cosima straddled her in the bed, hands flat on either side of Delphine's head.  Her hair was pulled back and her breasts dangled a tantalizing centimeter above Delphine's chest. And she was grinning.  She had that full-face grin Delphine loved so much, the one that said

Let's get out of here as it stole two bottles of wine from a Dyad function.

It said

Helium is way funnier than polonium!

It said

Enchantée.  

You're the puppy.

It said

I'm so happy you're back!

And she wasn't coughing.  She was strong and healthy and starting to giggle down at Delphine.  “You're so cute when you're sleepy,” she said.  

Delphine wanted to reach up to her.  Stay, she begged.  Just stay with me, don't go, don't leave.  “Nnggggg....” was all she managed to say, and Cosima laughed.

* * *

She was in the Felix's loft, in his bed, and Cosima sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand.  “You gotta get up, babe.  I'm serious.  You've got way too much to do.”

Delphine’s head fell to the side, facing Cosima.  She wanted to speak, to tell her that she knew all that.  She knew she had things to do, but her mouth wouldn't move.  Every muscle pulled her down into the bed.  Her core muscles trembled with the effort just to keep breathing, to keep from disappearing into the scarlet bedsheets and vanishing forever. Vanishing sounded so wonderful, though... maybe she would.  But Cosima was holding her hand and tugging, like the leash on a stubborn puppy.  

You're the puppy.

I'm your puppy, she thought.

* * *

Cosima was pacing next to their bed, back in their apartment.  Well, Delphine's apartment, but she'd thought of it as theirs once Cosima spent a few nights there, and started leaving clothes and toiletries around.  She was still naked, except for her glasses, and Delphine watched the curves of her ass shift with each step she took away, then the dips and peaks of her hips and pelvic bones when she came back.  You're beautiful, she thought.  

“You're running out of time,” Cosima said.  “We're running out of time.  Can't you just get up?  For me?”

And she tried.  So help her, God, she tried to get up, but her body stayed put, not one fiber twitching in response to her brain's request.  I can't.  I want to, but I can't.  Just let me rest some more, please...

Cosima wore her rings now, and she spun them around her fingers while she paced.  Now and then she adjusted her glasses or ran a hand over her hair.  She stopped pacing a few times, to look down at Delphine in the bed, to purse her lips in worry or in frustration.  Lie here with me, Delphine thought to her.  Terror started creeping in then, as the words refused to come out, as her lips refused to budge, her fingers refused to stretch out to touch Cosima, standing less than a foot away.  

“I came back for you,” Cosima said, and her voice broke.  “I love you.”

* * *

Crisp reality woke her, and she gasped.

“Ah ha, she's awake.”  A rough masculine cough followed the words.  “He will be pleased.”

She pried her eyes opened and saw a circular ceiling with wooden beams slanting from the center.  A man leaned over her, close enough that she smelled his breath when he opened his mouth.  He smelled like fish.  Behind him, an IV pole winked in and out of view as he moved.  “Do you know where you are?” he asked.  He spoke with an accent that wasn't North American, but that was as far as her brain went with it.

“Nnnnn...”  She flexed her fingers and moved her head from side to side.  Then she took a deep breath and the pain hit her so hard she screamed.  

“Shhhh....” Someone else came into view, to play with the IV bag, and she drifted off again.

[javistg]

Happy Birthday EverlarkBirthdayDrabbles!

One year ago, three lovely ladies (who have chosen to remain anonymous) decided to create @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles. Their generosity and love for our fandom gave us a year full of Everlark goodness. 

As a follower of their blog, I’m grateful for the beautiful fic I got for my birthday, and I’m amazed at the amount of work they did all year long. 

As an author, I’ll never be able to repay them for putting their trust in me, and for providing such wonderful inspiration. Without their prompt for an AgeGap!Everlark fic, Weekend Getaway never would have happened. I’m not kidding! 

As a small thank you for all their love and hard work, I’ve decided to give them a little gift of my own. 

Happy anniversary, @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles! This canon divergent drabble set during CF is for you. 

Hope you enjoy. 

Javis 

 A Knock on the Door (part 2) 

PART 1, also on AO3 and FF.net. 

The small red fox runs through the forest, making its way through the slippery moss. The air around him is thick with dew, but the sky is still dark.

The insistent howls of a hungry pack of wolves loom in the distance.

The fox runs faster. His tiny paws crush leaves and branches as it desperately tries to escape.

But it’s no use.

The wolves are too fast and strong for him. Their beautiful white fur gleams under the moonlight as they jump and howl, easily catching up to their terrified prey.

They’re upon him in an instant. Circling him and barring their teeth to show they mean business.

The fox stills, green eyes wide in terror. He knows he’s doomed.  

There’s nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. So, when the wolves begin to tighten their circle, the small fox knows that his time has run out.

Anguished wails reach the treetops, pained and insistent, as the fox says his last goodbye.

Suddenly, the world turns dark.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls out. His voice, urgent and clear, breaks through the darkness. “Katniss, stop! Stop, you’re alright. You’re alright.”

Katniss wakes up.

She’s thrashing in Peeta’s arms, crying and gasping for air as she desperately clings to his shoulders.

His arms wrap around her. “You’re safe,” he whispers into her ear. “I got you. You’re safe.”

Katniss presses her cheek against his chest. The sound of his heart, beating under her ear, soothes her and, for an instant, she believes him.

XXXXX

Days go by quickly in the tribute center. Proper, professional Effie keeps her tributes on a tight leash. Waking them early, sitting with them through breakfast and making sure they reach their training sessions on time.

Unlike the last time they were there, Effie keeps all her comments about the improprieties of two unmarried teenagers sharing a bed to herself. It’s a small thing. But Katniss appreciates the lack of fuss nonetheless.

As days go by, Katniss gets to know the other tributes who’ll be joining her in the arena. Sometimes she hates Haymitch for asking her to play nice with the other victors, but her determination to keep Peeta safe keeps her anger in check.

Besides, Beetee and Wiress intrigue her. Even if she didn’t have instructions to befriend them, she’d still be fascinated by how their minds work.

Unlike Mags, who quickly wins her over with her gentleness and warmth, Finnick and his overtures make her uncomfortable, and she can’t talk to Johanna without feeling exposed, but she still tries. For Peeta, she tries it all.

She only sees Darius at dinner time. The sight of her old friend still saddens her. But now that the surprise has worn off, she notices the small things she missed on the first day. Like the silent fight that’s still left in his eyes. Or the soft smile that tells her he doesn’t blame her for his fate. It doesn’t make a difference, though. She still blames herself.

Every night, she beckons Peeta back into her room.

Back on the Victory Tour, she’d always wait for him to come to her side. He never failed, joining her even when she’d already fallen asleep. But things are different now. After spending all their training months apart, they’ve finally grown closer. And she refuses to let a new void open between them again. So, every night, Katniss invites him over. All it takes is a small gesture, a smile, a nod. But Peeta always gets her meaning.

He never hesitates, never lets her down.

They spend their nights talking, sharing a handful of happy memories as they try to keep the nightmares at bay. Sometimes it works. But when it doesn’t, they’re there for each other, whispering soft assurances that push their fears away.

XXXXX

“What are you waiting for?” Cato taunts, his arm firmly wrapped around Peeta’s neck as he holds him firmly in place.

Peeta struggles to keep his eyes open. The wound on his leg is bleeding profusely, and he doesn’t have enough air. He’s running out of time.

Katniss takes a deep breath and lifts her bow. Her eyes land on Cato’s unprotected hand, and she smiles. With a steady hand, she releases her arrow and watches it fly.

Cato’s lips turn up in a sinister grimace. He lifts his hand.

The arrow pierces Peeta’s skin, lodging itself cleanly in his neck. His eyes, wide and shocked, reflect the light of a thousand stars.  

Cato releases him.

Peeta’s dead body slumps to the floor.

Katniss gasps. The blood in her veins turns to ice, her body goes limp. The heavy bow slips from her slack hand, and she follows, collapsing in a pile on the floor.

Cato’s cruel cackle rings in her ears; his hoots and hollers piercing through her like daggers.

Tears run down Katniss’s cheeks. She covers her face with her hands and shakes like a leaf, desperately trying to erase the image of Peeta’s bloodied body hitting the cold steel floor.

Desperate and alone, her sobs turn into heartbreaking wails as her whole world shatters into a million pieces.

Suddenly, the cold air around her is replaced by warm, gentle hands that rub her arms and back. A pair of strong arms, tightly wrapped around her slender frame, soon follow. 

Gradually, Cato’s screams are replaced by the most comforting sound. “I’m ok,” Peeta whispers into her hair, “Open your eyes, Katniss. Look at me. I’m ok.”

She´s shuddering violently when she wakes up; nestled in Peeta’s arms with his sleep shirt tightly clutched in her fists.

“I missed,” she whimpers into his chest. “You… died.”

Gently, Peeta pushes her away from him. “Hey! Look at me.”

Sniffing, Katniss does as he asks.

“You didn’t miss. See? I’m ok?”

Katniss nods. Her stormy eyes lock with his. She reaches out to cup his cheek. “We’re going back, Peeta.”

Peeta’s face hardens. It’s the first time after the night the Quarter Quell was announced that either one of them has openly referred to what’s going to happen. Even after all the training and planning, no one has ever said the words out loud. “I know.”

“What if I can’t protect you? What if I miss, and kill you instead?”

Peeta’s steady voice cuts through the dark. “You won’t.”

“How do you know?” she whines.

“Because you never miss, Katniss. Not when it matters.” His hand covers hers over his cheek. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be fine.”

Katniss nods. She wishes she could be as confident as he seems to be. But she doesn’t feel like arguing with him. Instead, she lies on her side and pulls him back to the bed. “I’m sorry I keep waking you,” she whispers, “You need your rest.”

Peeta smiles. “Yeah, we both do.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’d rather be here with you, than hearing you call out my name from across the hall. At least here I don’t feel so useless.”

The sadness in his voice tugs at her. “You’re not useless, Peeta,” she says, mimicking his motions and running her fingers through his hair. “I never would have made it this far without you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Katniss.”

Katniss smiles. His words are rough, but there’s no bite to them. He’s just trying to protect her. Somehow, he still thinks that putting up a wall between them will keep her safe.

Not too long ago, she would have gladly played along. She would have kept quiet and let Peeta have his way. But she knows better now, and she refuses to spend the little time she has left hiding and being at odds with him.

“And why is that?” she presses.

Peeta’s eyes lock with hers, even under the pale moonlight, they look as warm as a summer sky. He keeps his voice hushed but speaks with the clarity only certainty can bring. “Because nobody needs me.”

Katniss looks away, too proud to let him see how much his words distress her. Her heart aches for the kind boy who’s still willing to give his life for hers, and who expects nothing in return.

Suddenly, her mind jumps a few weeks ahead, to a world in which Peeta’s plan has succeeded. An impossible reality in which she’s alive, and he isn’t.

She’s been so focused on saving him, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that he might get his wish. The thought, combined with the remnants of her recent nightmare, makes her chest constrict under the weight of a grief so intense she can hardly breathe.

Peeta wants her to keep on living without him. But the emptiness setting in her bones tells her that will never happen. Because, even if she escapes the arena, she will never escape him. And, while other people might recover from Peeta’s death, she knows she won’t.

She’ll still have Prim, and her mom, but Peeta’s death will damage her beyond repair.

Her eyes find his again. Her fingers tangle tenderly in his hair. “You’re wrong.”

Peeta stills. There’s something in Katniss’s tone that has his heart pounding furiously in his chest. Blue eyes search her face as he desperately tries to understand what she’s trying to say.

Katniss smiles sweetly at him, her words are as soft as a caress. “I need you.”

Next to her, Peeta’s body goes rigid. The crease on his forehead tells her he wants to argue. She can almost see his mind working, coming up with the perfect combination of words to dissuade her. But there’s nothing he can say that will change her mind. She’s done with words. She’s never been good with them anyway.

Katniss closes the short distance between them and kisses him. Tenderly, then passionately. Without guilt, without restraint.

She kisses him for all the times she wanted to but didn’t. For every moment he spent taking care of her when she broke her heel, and for every stroke of color he added to her family’s weathered old book.

She kisses him for every smile and every hug. For standing up to a rabid peacekeeper, risking his own life just to save Gale’s.

For every nightmare he’s pulled her out of, for every dream he’s had to forget.

For every afternoon he spent helping Prim with her homework, and for all the mornings when he showed up with a basket full of cheese buns and an open heart.

She kisses him fiercely, deeply, with a hunger she never knew she could feel, eagerly making up for every time they had to pretend, losing pieces of each other and their love to satisfy someone else’s demands.

She also kisses him for the beautiful stories he tells her before they fall asleep. For being him.

And for her. Because she needs Peeta, and she simply can’t go on pretending, acting like he isn’t her whole world.

She kisses, and touches, and feels him deep into the night; until she’s breathless and spent, trembling in his arms like a delicate flower dancing in the rain.

Peeta kisses her back, matching every one of her silent promises with one of his own. Sealing their fate and their bond under the light of a thousand twinkling stars.

XXXXX

Haymitch cancels their last day of training. Katniss and Peeta greet the news with a smile and spend the day together, enjoying a quiet picnic on the terrace of the training center.

They eat. They play. They laugh. They kiss.

They talk about everything and nothing, cramming as many happy memories as they can into the precious minutes they have left.

They watch the sunset. A beautiful show of pale oranges and bright pinks crisscrossing the deep blue sky.

Katniss rests her head on Peeta’s shoulder and tries her best to pretend that this is just another day.

He plays along. But when they look into each other’s eyes, they both know. Their days are almost gone.

Quietly, they make their way down the stairs and into the penthouse.

“I’m gonna drop this in the dining room,” Peeta says, gesturing to the picnic basket swinging from his hand.

“I’ll go with you, I’d like to get some water.”

They reach the dining room and find Darius there, standing ramrod straight as he silently waits by the long table. He smiles at them, his green eyes twinkling under the bright lights.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was happy to see them.

Swiftly, Darius walks over to them. He’s still smiling when he lifts his arm, wiggling his fingers to ask for the picnic basket.  

Peeta hands over the hamper. “Thanks—“

Darius presses a finger to his lips, instructing Peeta to be quiet.

Surprised, Peeta does as he’s told. He turns to Katniss, who shrugs, just as confused and intrigued as he is.

With swift, urgent motions, Darius gestures to the two victors.

They nod, encouraging the avox to keep going.

Darius turns toward the empty hallway that stretches behind him and points to it.

Katniss cranes her neck as she tries to see what Darius is indicating. Her breath hitches. “Haymitch’s room?” she whispers.

The avox nods and cups his ear with his hand.

Katniss is still trying to understand this new signal when Peeta’s hand wraps around hers.

“Thanks, Darius,” he whispers, quietly pulling her to Haymitch’s room.

Intrigued, Katniss follows.

They reach their mentor’s door and stop in front of it. Katniss’s eyes widen when she notices the small gap between the door and the frame.

Quickly, she glances back.

Darius is still in the dining room, his eyes trained on them as he cups his ear once again.

Katniss nods back.

Katniss and Peeta hold their breath as they lean in, trying to get as close as possible to the small gap. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to follow Darius’s instructions, though. Haymitch isn’t exactly whispering. His words reach them clearly through the open door. “Have they set a date yet?”

“No, not yet,” Cinna answers, “they already have a hovercraft, but they need to see how things play out before they can choose a day.”

Katniss frowns. Hovercraft?

“So, they’re going in without knowing,” Haymitch grumbles.

“Yeah, it can’t be helped. But Plutarch’s already found a way to communicate with them.”

Plutarch. Katniss pales at the mention of the head game maker. Her palms begin to sweat as she remembers the intriguing man who carried a watch engraved with her mockingjay.

Haymitch’s gruff voice brings her back to the conversation. “He has?”

“It’s pretty smart, actually. Simple. He wants to send them bread.”

“Bread?”

Katniss turns to face Peeta. He’s staring blankly at the door. The tight grip he keeps on her hand tells her he’s following the conversation just as closely as she is.

She keeps her eyes trained on him, waiting for his reaction as they listen to Cinna’s reply. “Mm-hmm. The number of rolls will indicate the time. The district the bread comes from will be the day. I think it’s pretty ingenious.”

“Yeah, assuming we can break into the arena on a day that matches our allies’ districts,” Haymitch scoffs.

Katniss’s heart skips a beat. Break into the arena?  

Suddenly, Peeta lets go of her hand. Before she even knows what’s happening, he’s pushing the door open, and stepping into the room.

Katniss follows.

Peeta’s voice bounces against the walls, an unexpected roll of thunder unleashing a storm. “What’s going on here?”

[regrettablewritings]

All the Write Words, Pt.III (Library AU!Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader)

A/N: I’m gonna be real, this is just total juvenile cheesecake because even at my age, I have the sense of humor of a baby. And let’s be real, this was bound to happen at some point. This is a Vladimir fic after all . . .

Prologue Part I Part II Part IV Part V

For the first time in a long while, Vladimir Ranskahov’s life had a schedule: Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday, he was to be dropped off at the S. Lee Public Library from 10:45 AM to 1:30 PM. After every shift and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he typically would resume his previous work at his and Anatoly’s taxi garage. On Sundays and nearly every single night when he figured he could manage, time was put aside for downing copious amounts of vodka and drunkenly praying to God that this bullshit would end soon.

If not for his upbringing by a God-fearing born-again woman, Vladimir’s belief in a higher power would have died completely the moment he realized the ordeal wasn’t disappearing any faster than it could have been. However, it made no sense to disbelieve in a god when every other day he had to face the Devil.

The Bible had it all wrong. The Devil was not called Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t red with horns or anything of that nature. Instead, he was much less predictable: He was a she. And her name was (Y/N). And she was not red and with horns, but brown and small (thought she might have horns lying beneath that bushel of curls, Vladimir suspected). And her domain wasn’t an infernal pit of whips and organ-pecking birds so much as it was a homey little den of a library (still, there was much suffering, it was just relative). And there weren’t any torture devices like spears and daggers and racks so much as there were plenty of books and ridiculous words and references that could make a man feel insignificant all the same.

Or the damn alphabet chart she kept using during their little lessons in the faculty lounge. It was definitely plucked from the children’s learning corner, and it was definitely humiliating that he was being taught pronunciation association with it. C’s cat and F’s fox mocked him with their cartoonish faces. He swore he could hear D’s toothy donkey wheeze with laughter.

Maybe they were (Y/N)’s little demon accomplices? Maybe he himself was so weak that they needn’t resume an actual three-dimensional form to torture and berate him? The thought would make Vladimir shake his head furiously and toss the shot glass to the side, going full-on swig with whatever remained in the vodka bottle he’d nicked from Anatoly’s wine rack. Christianity had gotten one thing right about her, though: She had soul-sucking eyes that could make you feel quiet and nude. Especially when she was certain she could gain an upper-hand. Which, with Vladimir, almost always seemed to be the case somehow.

Vladimir stared blankly at the book in the center of the table, part-because its original cover had been so mangled that at some point it’d been given a new “jacket” made out of folded paper and marker, and part-because with what little English he could read, there was oneword  on that book cover that stood out to him the most. He’d seen it graffitied on the cell walls, heard it uttered a million times more, even said it himself plenty of times if the situation suited it. Enough to identify it by sound and connect it to the letters.

Fun with Dick and Jane.

Was he going to read/look at a porno? Vladimir fought to keep from smirking. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Sip. Oh. Wait.           

“Well, I see that childish humor transcends all languages.” And already, today was back it being normal. Vladimir flashed (Y/N) a reproachful look. She sat on the other side of the round lounge table per unspoken request, wearing yet another baggy sweatshirt that ended practically midway down her thighs and was altogether swallowing her short form up. She should’ve been more than warm in that suffocating getup, but she still insisted upon helping herself to a Styrofoam cup of hot Swiss Miss. She also insisted that she coyly sip from said cup for what seemed like every ten seconds of silence.

“You can try to hide that smirk all you want but the proof is in the pudding, puddin’: you’re all giddy about that Dick.” Proud of her little joke, (Y/N) smiled into her cup. The roundness of her cheeks were still visible. Vladimir quickly tried to change the subject before he slapped that cup out of her hands in a childish revenge fashion.

“What sense does it make that I read this when I can barely write?” he questioned. It was a fair point: how could be possibly read when he didn’t understand what composed the words before him?!

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought. “Weelll . . .” she dragged, tapping her fingers against the side of the cup. “To tell you the truth, I’ve actually never really taught before . . .” Her cheeks turned rosy slightly, and Vladimir knew instantly that was it wasn’t because of the Swiss Miss. Her tone indicated a sudden realization of the gravity of this task. Maybe it’d prove to be too heavy for her and she’d just give up, sign the papers, and set him loose? Vladimir hoped so.

But all at the same time, there was a small part of him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge too greatly, that wanted her to remain persistent. Just to see where and how far this all would go.

“B-but I have younger siblings, and I read to them occasionally. So . . . so I figured that if I tried reading some basic words to you, you’d begin to connect words to writing. Or at least get more enthusiastic . . .” She shyly played with one of her many curls, suddenly gaining an interest in the image of her Styrofoam cup. She bit at her lip slightly, repressing only a fragment of the smile that was beginning to grow on her face. “I guess I could be on the right track, though.” She glanced up at the rugged Russian. “After all, you could read ‘Dick.’”

A hiss of irritability escaped from Vladimir’s flared nostrils but nothing else. She had a point, as pissed as he was to find himself understanding and agreeing. He glanced back down at Fun with Dick and Jane with its printer paper makeshift cover. What the hell, his mind finally gave in. Jane was having fun with a dick, so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad . . .

“’See Jack laugh?’” A painted illustration of some nancy boy laughing at a clown on a clunky old TV set. “’See Jane play? Jane plays with the doll.’” A little blonde girl swearing a frilly blue dress, playing with a raggedy old doll that his mother probably wouldn’t want. “’Dick is running. Run, Dick, run!’”

Yeah, you dick: Run away for fooling me, Vladimir wanted to say. This was pure torture: Having the poofy-haired Devil read to him – and at such a slow-ass pace! (Y/N), at the very least, seemed to be enjoying herself in some way. Well, that’s what the tight smile plastered across her face had initially said. But about midway through, Vladimir began to suspect that it was because she, too, might be embarrassed by the childish display. 

. . . Or maybe because there was something rather odd about having to constantly utter the word “Dick” in front of a guy with whom she was not involved with nor even on friendly terms. Either way, it managed to create a small sense of victory for Vladimir; the torturer suffering alongside the tortured. Beautiful.

Why should he care about the daily activities of Jane? Or that Spot the dog and Puff the cat liked to play? Or – aw, hell, who the hell is Pam and why is she being brought into the cast seventeen pages into this travesty?!

When (Y/N) began to talk about how Sally was “funny Sally, funny, funny Sally”, a knock came from the threshold. Vladimir’s relief was almost immediately run over by embarrassment as a certain pudgy young man appeared to have walked in on their little lesson.

“Uh, hope I’m not interrupting anything major,” Foggy said from the doorway. “But that one guy? Mr. Wesley? Yeah, he’s here for those language books but we’re having trouble locating the one on Mandarin.”

“Oh, really? Okay, hold on, I’ll be right out,” (Y/N) offered. The slight eagerness in her voice indicated that she was just as excited to stop reading the bore-fest. As she followed Foggy out to the front desk, she called back, “Few-minute break, my little big pupil! Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” Vladimir nearly broke his phone with how fast and frustratingly he whipped it out of his pocket. Immediately, he set to dialing one of the very few numbers he had.

“You should not be calling,” Anatoly greeted after the third ring. Before he could say anything more, Vladimir interrupted, his Russian becoming more like gibberish. “Brother, you have signed me up for sick torture. This -- this witch has me sitting here listening to her read about Jane and Dick and –”

“Zaderzhat, zaderzhat– khuy?! You are reading porn?!” Anatoly demanded. Judging by the harsh whisper he’d delivered the sentence in, it was safe for Vladimir to assume that he was in the garage surrounded by the employees. Vladimir opened his mouth to clarify but the elder Ranskahov went on. “What the hell are you reading porn in a goddamn library, you mudak?! I send you to make you better person, not to be like some horny teenage boy!”

“No, you idiot, listen! I – ”

“Volodya, I understand if last two years in jail were rough on you – urges is -- is normal. But just because it is so long, does not mean you go about letting your dick lead you like a dog on a leash. You are its owner, you control it. So stop hiding in back room and get to work!”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you goddamn mudak!” Vladimir hissed. His pride had been severely wounded. How dare Anatoly assume he was stooping so low. Hell, how dare he assume he couldn’t just walk right out this library and get any! “Women is not problem for me! And to correct you, you idiot, is not porn, is a . . . a fucking book for children!”

“Ooohhh,” Anatoly muttered with slight relief. A beat occurred between them, with Vladimir too furious and embarrassed to say anything and Anatoly suddenly in thought.

“Why are you reading children’s book?” His voice broke the crisp silence. A flurry of emotions and thoughts banged against the walls of Vladimir’s skull. Like hell Anatoly was going to find it out now!           

“Okay, I’m back,” (Y/N) said as she returned into the room. At that moment, Vladimir considered the little devil an angel. But just for a second. He quickly hung up on his brother without offering him an explanation and shoved the phone back into his pocket, his usual glare holding in place. “Sorry for the holdup,” the young woman said as she grabbed another cup from the counter. She was making yet another cup of Swiss Miss.

“Mr. Wesley is a man with some rather . . . high . . . expectations. He’s a bit of a butt if you don’t put things a certain way, though . . . Oh, well,” she sighed. But her words fell on deaf ears for Vladimir. As did her continued narration of yet another Dick and Jane segment. To be perfectly honest, Vladimir had bigger, better things going on in his mind. Like how his own flesh and blood had the audacity to accuse him of being like a hormonal plebian.

He was a grown-ass man, he was more than capable of controlling his hormones! So what if he hadn’t gotten any kind of anything in a while? . . . A rather long while . . . Vladimir unconsciously furrowed his brows in thought. How long had it been precisely?

“Ow! Dammit!” The little curse yanked Vladimir back into the world of reality. In reality, (Y/N) had spilled a majority of the hot Swiss Miss on to her baggy sweater. The large brown stain coupled with a hiss of minor pain caused (Y/N) to click her teeth with dismay. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vladimir, I was just – gimme a sec.” She said it as if Vladimir had actually made any attempts to help out with the situation. Mentally, the Russian scoffed as he took his seat once again. . . . Wait. When did he even get out of it?

(Y/N) sighed after further inspecting the damage the spill had caused. “It’s all damp and gross now . . .” she muttered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It made Vladimir roll his eyes. Why did she care about it like a normal woman cares about actually fitting clothes? It was just a baggy, old sweater. Hell, it was probably just a burlap sack dyed a different color to hide just how rough it was. Silly peasants and their attachments to their trash. These thoughts rattled in Vladimir’s head, completely drowning out his previous mental documentation and the insults that had called for them.

Then he noticed (Y/N)’s arms disappearing from the sleeves of her sullied sweater. She began to do that all too familiar wriggle a person does when they were getting a shirt off. What the – ?

“Hope you don’t mind . . .” (Y/N)’s voice sounded bashful from behind the cloth as it covered her mouth. He could see her cheeks reddening as her face descended into the neck hole, the sweater completely swallowing her. “I – I just can’t wear something so damp. It’ll get chilly, I’m sorry if this comes off as unprofessional but – ” The rambling continued on as it normally did with (Y/N), muffled until the little woman emerged from the bottom of the jumper but the embarrassed blush of her face continued. Her brown eyes scurried to look anywhere but at her overgrown pupil. Had she looked up, she would’ve noticed a change in his demeanor.

Well. The Bible might have gotten one more thing right about the Devil: She could completely transform her impression by someone in the blink of an eye because damn was that sweater like a ragged snakeskin hiding a form like that. Maybe it was the way the black fitted t-shirt embraced the slopes of her curves. Maybe it was because without the low-hanging sweater, Vladimir could see that she had soft-looking thick thighs being hugged by comfortable jeans. Maybe he just liked how after the ordeal with removing the top, her hair had become a mess he had only ever seen after becoming very . . .  “playful” with a woman. … Or maybe he just liked the fact that now he could confirm that she had a nice perky-looking set of –

Konechno net! Vladimir scolded himself. You are not some simpleton brat who gets a hard-on at the mere sight of a shoulder!

It was irritating to say the least and it rang in his head even as (Y/N) carried on like normal, clearing her throat as she resumed her place in the book. It was distressing how much Vladimir was actually forcing himself to pay attention to the words she read, especially after being so insistent that he do otherwise not too long ago. But then ago, not too long ago, he wasn’t trying to not think about the last time he’d been with a woman. And not too long ago, (Y/N) the Devil had been wearing an unflattering sweater that made Vladimir certain she probably had the body of a deflated potato. And not too long ago, he was certain the book was mostly focusing on the antics of Pam or Sally . . .

“Dick is lonely. Poor, lonely Dick,” he heard his teacher utter. He was almost certain he heard a wave in her voice as she said it (almost like a laugh attempting to flutter out) but decided against that possibility. But he did notice that among other things, he sat up straighter and his eyes searched frantically for other stimuli. Something, anything to dull out the ridiculous and rather suggestive sentences he had to hear her utter, even the minor add-ins she made to soothe the laughter he swore wasn’t there.

“Dick wants to play. Dick goes to play with Jane.”

This is absurd. This is ridiculous –

“Jane wants to play with Dick as well. Hurray!”

Surely these damn Americans knew how filthy this all sounded!           

“Dick j-umps with happiness (Oh, God . . .).”

Focus! On that poster – shit, it’s in English. The fridge? How many dots are in the ceiling tiles?!

“‘Jump, Dick!’ says Sally (pfft!). Dick jumps high.”

Hell no, nothing down below was jumping, right? Nothing to get all jumpy down there about when you’re looking at – a toaster? Magnets? Napkins?! Hair? Her hair? All messy and curled against cheeks red from being flustered –

“Dick is b-big . . .”

Those curves that didn’t exist until now, that perfect handful set on her chest –

“Dick is bigger than Ja – I can’t do this!” Immediately, (Y/N) burst into what might have been the most juvenile laughter Vladimir had heard in a long time. Like a series of bubbles overflowing from her mouth, rampant and without any of the control or demure nature she’d appeared to have before. It was unsettling. “I – I’m zsorry, V-vladimir,” (Y/N) wheezed as she tried to pat the laughter back with gentle taps to her chest. “I dknow it’z childish but – but come on, it’z zso ridiculous!” Vladimir could only stare and fight off the feeling of gobbsmacked that he actually felt.

He had been brought back to reality by a thunderous laugh and yet he wasn’t sure how much of it was actually real.

“Shoot, man,” gasped (Y/N) when she’d finally managed to calm down. “I think I laughed myself a set of abs almost. Geez, I’m a child . . .” She shook her head. Vladimir was used to only her curls bouncing when she did this but with the sweater gone and her body still making minor heaves after such a laughing spell, he couldn’t help but notice some other things moving in a bouncy fashion as well. And he fucking hated that he noticed this. He also hated how when she laughed in that gross fashion, his face burned. What witchcraft was this freaking suka pulling?!

Knock-knock.

The two looked up to see Claire in the faculty lounge doorway. “Hey, (Y/N)? Yeah, a young man at the desk is asking about Arachnemania? That one book on spiders? I swear we have it somewhere but we can’t find it in our system, is there any way you could . . .?”           

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks Claire,” (Y/N) turned to Vladimir. “Hang tight for a sec. When I come back, we can start on some workbook crap, a’ight?”

Vladimir nodded slowly. He had to remind himself to make his perpetual scowl at last minute. It didn’t last long, however, as when (Y/N) turned to leave, Vladimir’s eyes could help but slink downward on her body. Well. Apparently there were now two things Vladimir didn’t hate about his teacher from Hell. It took the end of his shift and his distance from them for him to realize in pure frustration that the little cheeky devil had turned the things he liked against him to get into a false sense of enjoyment.

[felvillalobos]

The Shadow It was a sunny Saturday morning. I woke up at 5:30 am as always to take Blair on her daily sunrise stroll. The sun was pouring in through the glass doors to my balcony. I threw back the covers and walked towards my dresser. Pulling on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt, I made my way down the stairs. Blair was sitting next to the door with her leash in her mouth. For years this had been our routine, and nothing would make her change it now. The cool morning breeze was sending chills up my spine. I held Blair's leash in one hand, and a water bottle in the other. Early morning walks always seemed to bring out the eeriness of Twin Lakes Drive. With sun peering through the many clouds of gray that polluted the sky, some houses were illuminated with beautiful patterns of sunlight, and others with oddly shaped shadows that seemed to engulf each home. As I walked down the drive I could hear Shawn saying “There is an evil in that house Shae. Can’t you feel it?” Shawn is my wonderful husband who has dedicated his life to catching and chasing all things supernatural. For weeks he would go on ‘business trips’, and clear houses and other cursed or possessed objects from evil. Being a private investigator I stuck to focusing on evidence I could physically see and touch before me. Whenever Shawn tried to pull me into one of his trips, I would simply state “No face? No case.” I am running with half of a leash in my hand. The cold morning air sending chills up my spine. Where did Blair go? In the 8 years that I have had her, she's never taken off on me the way she just did. I followed the sound of her bark all the way to that one vacant house that never failed to have an eerie shadow fall upon the large front door. The Evans’ house was the darkest house located in a corner at the end of the drive. I stood paralyzed in the narrow twisting driveway before the house. The ancient architecture of the house made it look like a home straight out of a horror movie. Dead trees, rotting and bowed shutters, and two broken statues of angels. My stomach tightened in fear as I wondered if Shawn’s work really was true. For the first time in my life I doubted my teachings and wondered if there was a world beyond the living. “A shadow that’s cast upon a door, holds evil inside its very core.” I shook Shawn’s favorite line from my head and took three small steps towards the slanted staircase that led to the grand brown door. The shadow seemed to shift and grow as I made my way slowly towards it. I wanted to turn around and run straight back to the comfort of my warm bed, but I had to find Blair. I told myself I was being ridiculous. Seven years on the job and I had never encountered anything close to supernatural. But then again, I had never allowed myself to look into the topic of ghosts, demons, or any of the monsters that I saw pile up on our table amongst my scattered case files. My training taught me to avoid what could not be explained using human evidence and I had always done just that. My case files were human evidence. Shawn’s were not. Snapping back to reality, I made my way up the winding path. As I stepped on the stairs, pieces of cement cracked and crumbled under that soles of my shoes. I grabbed hold of the rusted iron railing beside me and looked back up at the house. The windows were boarded up and the grass was long and yellow. Mrs. Evans, the woman who used to live here, moved out after her husband passed away about a year ago, and the house has been vacant ever since. A terrified bark pierced the silence, and without thinking I threw myself at the door. Thinking the door would be locked, I did not prepare for a fall and flew head first into the wall facing the door. Inside, the house smelled of wet socks and rotting food. All the furniture was in place, and paintings and picture frames decorated the floral wallpaper on the walls. These weren’t your average happy family portraits. These were dark. Bare trees lost in the mist, a vacant swingset in a deserted schoolyard, pale children in long black robes, and the most disturbing- the living room as it was with indistinguishable silhouettes sitting in the chairs, and a dead dog on an altar in the center. I had to find Blair. There was something bad in this house. I could see the evidence, and I could feel its presence. Floor boards creaked above my head and I darted towards the kitchen where I hid in the pantry. Inside, shelves were stocked with cans of tomato soup, and lots of quakers oats. Knowing food meant signs of life, I checked the expiration dates. Each expiration date was set between 1890-1910. I could not believe what I was seeing. Mrs. Evans, the woman who had lived here just a year ago would not have survived off of food that had expired a century ago. Something was wrong. Very wrong. All of a sudden, footsteps raced down the stairs and I heard something fall and shatter in the living room. With my face pressed up to the door and both eyes to the mail slot, I looked for any sign of movement. Both the kitchen and the living room were still. I could see the fallen picture frame in pieces on the living room floor. There must have been a draft coming from a crack in one of the windows. There has to be a rational explanation for all of this. As I began to open the pantry door, something black flashed by and threw the door wide open. I sprang back in terror knocking over a perfect stack of oats and fell into the wall. I sunk into the dark corner between two shelves of tomatoes. This had to be a trick. Someone or something was behind all of this. But what did they want? Where was Blair? With both eyes fixed on the hallway outside of the door, a note fell to the floor. My curiosity overpowered my terror, and I made my way to the piece of paper. Stepping out into the open, I looked around for any signs of who had dropped the note. Seeing no one, I knelt down and inspected the old stained piece of parchment. Realizing this could potentially be a crime scene, I took out my phone and snapped a quick picture. After taking a few more pictures of the expired cans, boxes, and paintings, I sent the lot to Shawn and returned my attention to the note. “You will leave the hound. Get out of our home.” If it could write, it could think, and if it could think it must be alive. Right? The dark figure could have been the light reflecting off of one of the many mirrors at every corner of the house. The note was something else. Someone knew I was here. Someone had Blair. She was my partner, and she was in trouble. Out of nowhere started a high pitched ringing. It grew so loud my knees gave out and I fell to the floor with both hands clasped to my ears to try and drown out the sound. There was no use. My brain was pounding and my consciousness was fading fast. The sound was unbearable. Everything was blurry. Then everything went red. My lungs burned from screaming, and when I looked up something dark stood before me. The ringing had clouded my vision to the point where I could not make out where I was or what I was looking at. The dark figure approached me and everything went black. I woke up in my bed. I shot up when I remembered what had happened. Had it happened? Maybe it had been a dream. I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs in search of Blair, but she was nowhere to be seen. Fearfully I checked my phone. It was 9 pm. Where had those 15 hours gone? There were 3 messages and 6 missed calls from Shawn. The messages consisted of, “Shae get the hell out of there!” “Honey answer me!” “I’m coming home now. Please answer me.” Shawn had been in Des Moines, Iowa performing a home purification on a house that had been built on a Native American battleground. He said there were multiple spirits haunting the grounds where a family had recently decided to build their forever home. He was not supposed to return for another two days, and nothing pulls Shawn away from the job. I knew something was very wrong. I looked back at the messages I had sent him. They were delivered and read at 7:07 am. It was a 14 hour drive from Des Moines to Harrisburg Pennsylvania, so he’d be home any minute. While looking at the photos I had sent him, I realized why he was so worried. In one, a dark shadow appeared on the wall. In another, there were long scratches all the way down the wall by the shelves of tomatoes. The last picture was that of the paintings. When I zoomed in on the picture of the living room, each silhouette seemed to be staring at me. As I zoomed out I noticed the mirror in the corner of the room. Looking closer at my body, I noticed a claw-like hand on my shoulder. Terrified, I yanked on the collar of my T-shirt. There was thin but long hand shaped burn left behind. I was screaming when Shawn entered the house. I heard him slam the door shut and sprint up the steps to our room. He saw the hand print and carefully removed my shirt. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. I sat still and looked straight ahead. This could not be happening. I had factual evidence that something evil had happened in that house. Something that could not be explained with human evidence. Shawn got up and frantically dug through his drawers. I wanted to assure him that I was okay, but I could not move. I was in shock. I watched him take out a cup made of silver and fill it with holy water. He then poured some of the same holy water and some salt on to a rag. He walked both the rag and the cup over to me. He sat in front of me, looked me in the eyes and said “Christo”. To his horror, my face jerked upward. I did not understand why my body had reacted the way it had to the word. I took the cup from him and drank the water. It burned. I screamed and threw the glass across the room. My body went into a fit and I looked at Shawn desperately for an explanation and way to ease my pain. I could see tears falling down his face as he reached for a book in his bag. When I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror, I had turned a ghostly shade of pale gray. My lips were scabbed over, and my once bright blue eyes were now a dark black. I stared in terror at the face looking at me. It smiled and let out a low gargling laugh.