*sin on skin


purposely written with no caps.
it makes the words look prettier.

and a little less jagged.



there's an eloquence in the way she walks.

it's not quite beautiful, or graceful, but a bit off. she walks a straight line. except the straight line is diagonal, because she's tess tyler, and she isn't all about the rules.

and caitlyn loves her.

it's not the beautiful kind of the love. it's the sin on skin kind, that cuts and scars and bruises. but didn't you know – caitlyn's sadomasochistic streak is what keeps her breathing. the jagged edges of tess tyler's love, the way it hurts and bleeds and makes her skin crawl.

almost like a twisted fairytale. except there's no prince charming – there's just the ugly witch and the damsel in distress.

the ugly witch with the soft curves and pink lips and perfect kisses. the ugly witch whose spell cannot be broken, no matter how many knights in shining armor try.

the damsel in distress does not need saved.

she just wants those damn princes to leave her the hell alone. she's perfectly happy being trapped.



did you know that if you turn a little to the left, and cock your head slightly, you can see the sparkle in his eyes? you know, him. shane gray.

he's so angry, and so bitter, and mitchie's scared to put her hand in his because she's afraid he'll break it, but she does it anyway. he looks like he needs it.

when mitchie was little, she always loved to play house. the thought of a mommy and a daddy and lots of pretty little babies still makes her fingers and toes tingle with excitement.

mitchie loves taking care of shane gray. she loves the way he rests his head on her shoulder, and the way he nuzzles her neck and calls her M. she always wanted an (almost) boyfriend like him.

they haven't even kissed yet, but that's okay.

mitchie wants to play house with shane someday – except for it to be the real thing. so she'll wait forever and ever and ever if shane wants her to.



ella pador is one of those 'heinz 57' people. you know the like. they have heritage from all over the world.

ella just happens to be mexican, filipino, french, and japanese on her mother's side.

she's been speaking spanish since she was 4, french since she was 12, and she knows a little japanese as well (more than just, "konichiwa," thank you very much).

every boy loves an exotic-looking girl.

they love the almond-shape of her eyes, and the curve of her hips, and the black of her hair. lovelovelove.

and you don't need to speak spanish, japanese, or french to read her body language, because they can all see what she wants. the way she swings and shakes and grinds – oh it's quite obvious the things she wants them to do to her.

she wants to feel them between her legs, their hands on her arms, the way their hips press to hers. it's intoxicating, the tingle and burn of skin on skin. she's addicted to it, and she knows the boys love to see her writhe and squirm beneath them, gripping the bedsheets until her knuckles turn white.

maybe that's why she's a dancer and not a singer.

because the prettiest thing that's come out of her mouth in three years is; fuck yes.



this is where someone would say something about peggy warburton.

if there was anything worth saying.

probably one of my favorite things i've ever written.

please review with more than "so cute/sad/whatever" or "i loved it," thanks!