#I love my work except for the fourth time reading it in a row

[florencebirdsong]

The perfect set up if you ask me.

No WIP Wednesday this week because chapter 2 of healer au will be out tomorrow night >:)

[yourejinx]

Late Nights

Azriel x F.Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, +18, minors dni. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v. A bit of fluff? I think that's it.

Author's note: I wanted to try something different, this is my first time writing content like this so please be gentle but also PLEASE FEEDBACK.

Word count: 4k

It was the fourth night in a row that you were deprived from sleep, cursed with listening Cass and Nesta fuck like rabbits in the room next to yours. In all honesty, you loved your friends and were absolutely thrilled they were enjoying and exploring the extent of their relationship, they deserved it after everything they went through. You just wished they had a little consideration for your poor ears and sleeping schedule. 

You had been working your ass off the past few weeks, Rhys had you and Az going around the courts every other day, plus you've been dealing with Eris, since you seemed to be the only member in the Inner Circle that the Autumn heir tolerated just fine. So you had your plate full, and wished for a little peace and quiet at your own home. But your friends had other plans.

Nesta let out a particularly loud moan that you clearly heard through the too thin wall. It made you grimace and you decided you had enough. Huffing, you tossed the sheets off your body, grabbed the shirt you had stolen from the shadowsinger years ago and opened the door, putting on the clothing while you made your way down the corridor. If you were awake, then Azriel had to be too, he didn't miss a thing happening in this house. 

You didn't bother knocking on his door, you were way past that line with him. Azriel was your best friend, your confident, the person who you most trusted in the entire world, and vice versa. You were too comfortable with each other to bother with politeness. You flung open the door to his bedroom, making your way inside and slamming the door behind you dramatically. The room was dark except for the dim fae light hanging on his bedside table, Azriel had put down the book he was reading to stare at you amusedly. 

"Good evening to you too." He uttered playfully.

You didn't reply, just scowled, walked up to the other side and plopped down face first on the bed beside him. He chuckled. 

"Finding it hard to sleep?" He asked, setting the book aside. 

"They are insufferable." You mumbled around the sheets. They smelled like him, an instant comfort for your tired mind. "Agh! You can hear them from here too! How are you not bothered?!?" You lift your head from his pillows to look at him exasperatedly. 

Azriel smiled somewhat apprehensive at you. "I'm kind of used to it by now." He shrugged. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, smirking. "Kinky."

He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance. "You have no idea, sweetheart." His voice was a deep purr as he smirked back at you. 

You lifted one eyebrow in amusement. There was this recurrent thing between you two, where you usually teased and flirted with each other but never dared to actually do something about it. It was just for fun right? You were friends who just liked messing around as a joke. Always dancing the line between friends and something more, it was a dangerous game for sure, but you had to admit you loved the thrill of it. 

“Is that so? Oh please, do enlighten me then.” You shot back, lying more comfortably on his bed. Arms behind your head, eyes fixed on him. 

Hazel gaze traveled all the way down to the now exposed skin of your upper thighs, your movement had caused the shirt – his shirt– to ridden up a little, revealing more of your legs and the underline of a pair of lacy black panties. His pulse spiked slightly at the sight. You didn’t seem to notice, he averted his eyes before you could catch him shamelessly staring at you.  

There was a glint in your eyes when he caught your stare again, a slight flush to your cheeks, but he didn’t back off. 

“Curious now, are we?” He tilted his head, resting his cheek on his fist to properly look at you. 

“Ah, don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. You brought it up, are you backing out?” 

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, a playful spark dancing in his golden eyes, when—

“Fuck, Ness!” Cassian’s growl reached both your ears as clear as day. There was a beat of silence after that where you just stared at each other stunned, then you broke in a fit of laughter. 

“Seriously Az, I don’t know how you endure it, if I have to listen to them one more night I’m gonna lose my shit. I haven’t slept in days,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “and neither have you, it seems.” you pointed out, poking open one eye to stare at him. Azriel had laid back facing you, wings tucked behind his back, shoulders involuntarily curving inwards, a sign of tiredness. You noted the dark circles under his eyes. 

“I look that shitty, huh?” he smiled tiredly.  

“Never.” You stated matter-of-factly. “You’re always pretty.” 

It was his turn to blush then, heat rapidly crawling to his face and neck. He could handle your flirting, your teasing, but he didn’t know how to react when you blatantly called him pretty. It just sounded so…sincere, coming from you. It made his heart flutter in his chest. It was no secret that he found you attractive, he thought he made that clear, but there was more to that, wasn’t there? He didn’t just think you were hot, he thought you were beautiful, smart, and kind, and it freaked the hell out of him to acknowledge all those things because that would mean that he wanted more. More than being your friend, but it terrified him to ruin your friendship. If you wanted him in the same way, you would’ve said something by now, right? You’ve known each other for years. 

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered, breath fanning across his face. He hadn’t noticed how close you were. He could feel the heat radiating from your body. 

“I’m thinking that we should sleep.” He answered, but made no move whatsoever. You smiled at him and nodded, making to reach the faelight to turn it off. You angled your body half above him and stretched to the bedside table, hair barely grazing the hot skin of his torso. Gods, you were practically straddling him, his mind taking him to all sorts of indecent scenarios. Your breasts were just a breadths away from his mouth, he could make out the perked nipples under the shirt. He loved seeing you in his clothes, but right now he wanted nothing more than to rip the fabric out of you. Azriel swallowed dryly. 

What was his fucking problem? It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared a bed before, he blamed his friend’s heated session down the hall. He had to admit it had gotten him a bit railed up, especially with you on his bed, smelling like him. It was hard to ignore the growing want in his veins. 

“Goodnight, Az.” You said, pulling back a little to look at him through half lidded eyes, even in the dark. Was it possible you were feeling the same? or was it just tiredness in your features? 

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispered back. If you leaned in any closer, he swears he’d kiss you, consequences be damned. But you slid right back onto your side, back facing him. 

Azriel lets out a quiet, frustrating sigh, reaching an arm out to wrap around your waist pulling you close. More moaning can be heard outside his bedroom, all the way to Cassian’s room. He feels slightly jealous. 

Suddenly you snorted, “We’ll sleep better if we get past the nghs, ohh, right there Cass!” you moaned, imitating Nesta. Azriel inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way your little whimpering had shot straight to his dick. And the bite of jealousy he felt at hearing Cassian’s name falling so sinfully from your lips.

He scented the slight change in your scent though, a pinch of sweet arousal that got him mouth-watering. It had gotten to your head too, the display of passion from your friends a few bedrooms away. Azriel debated whether it was wise to do something right now, to taste the waters maybe. But you rolled onto your back again, facing the ceiling and letting out a frustrated groan. 

“Someone has to teach them though, make them uncomfortably listen for once. Maybe I’ll go to Rita’s tomorrow, choose a random male and bring him home. Beat them at their own game.” 

“No.” Azriel growled. You turned your head to the side, looking at him and were met with the dark, lustful haze in his eyes. You felt your core pulse in response. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“What do you mean"no "?" You asked, feeling your tongue paper dry  in your mouth.

“Why wait until tomorrow, if you can beat them tonight?”

The offer hung there, unspoken, for a few heartbeats. You felt your face grow hot, felt liquid fire pooling at your belly at the mere suggestion. He hadn’t even touched you and yet he got you all hot and bothered with a few words. You licked your lips, staring at him, shirtless, hair tousled over the pillow, shadows dancing dangerously over his shoulder. As if expecting your answer. He was a sight for sore eyes. It had to be illegal to be this beautiful. 

“I’m game if you are, sweetheart.” There it was, the deep purr again that had you clenching your legs together. He noticed the shift of course, smirking smugly. 

“Haha, very funny.” you said, huffing. 

“I’m not playing.” He pulled you closer, pressing you against his front. You gasped, feeling the not so subtle bulge in his sweatpants, rubbing against the side of your thigh.

“Is this why you kept me at an arm's length tonight?” you chuckled, but he could hear the breathlessness in your voice. “So I wouldn't find out they got you all worked up?” 

“No, this isn’t their doing, angel. It's all yours.” He dared a hand down your waist, past your hips, to ghost over the skin under the hem of your shirt. You shuddered. “Tell me to stop and I will. It's okay.” 

He lifted the fabric ever so slightly, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. 

You turned fully to him, chests pressed together, breasts dragging against the firm muscle with every breath. 

“Fuck it, let’s show them.” You breathed into his mouth before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss. 

Azriel groaned low against your mouth, grip tighter bringing your hips flushed together, and kissed you back with fervor. Your hands found purchase in the dark locks at the back of his neck, tugging gently and urging him impossibly closer. He pushed you onto your back, knees parting on their own accord to accommodate him between your legs. It was all so hot and messy. Like you both have been waiting for this for a very long time, it made you throb with need. The thought of him wanting you as much as you wanted him. 

You rolled your hips onto him, desperate for any sort of friction, moaning loudly when the clothed tip of his cock catched on your clit deliciously. Azriel took his chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch and taste of you, kissing you deeply, desperately. He wanted more, he wanted everything. A wave of arousal licked down his spine, your lips were sweet and addictive, he wondered — needed to know— if other parts of you tasted as sweet. 

He kissed your jaw, your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbones. His right hand came to fondle with the generous swell of your breast over the shirt, pinching at the perked nub. The smell of your arousal hit him at a full force, Azriel felt like a youngling in heat rutting his cock at your core. Fuck, he couldn't help himself, he was so enamoured with the sounds he was getting out of you. 

“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging at your shirt. “If I do it I may rip the damn thing off of you, and I love seeing you in my shirt.” 

You obeyed without a second thought, too lost in the feeling of him already. He invaded all your senses, his touch sending your skin on fire, his scent sparkling pleasure bubbling in your insides. The rich tone of his voice had you feeling all tingly and sensitive. Gods, you wanted him everywhere. 

With the offensive clothing now discarded, Azriel wasted no time dipping his head down and latching his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth around the nub. His hand came to play with your other breast, giving it the same attention, switching between your tits. You arched your back into him, whining in pleasure. 

He let go of your chest, looking down to admire you, all spread out for him. Nipples hard and shiny with his spit, breathing unevenly, underwear drenched with arousal, all because of him. He felt his cock throb within the confines of his sweats. Fuck, you looked so pretty like this, he had to taste you. Azriel looked up at your face, your glazed over eyes and swollen lips, and kissed you hard. Scarred fingers found the flimsy material of your panties, pushing them aside and dragging two digits along your soaked folds; you both moaned at the feeling. He rubbed tight circles around your clit, then ran a finger through your slit, smearing your juices everywhere. Your breathing quickened and he bit down your lip before kissing his way to your heat. Azriel looked at you from between your legs, pupils blown with lust, smirking wickedly. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged the material painfully slow down your legs, snarling softly at the sight of your dripping pussy. 

“Beautiful,” he moaned. “So damn beautiful.” His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe out your center. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your hips bucking off the bed to get closer to his face. He chuckled darkly. “Eager, angel?”

“Az please, stop teasing,”  you whined prettily, eyes locking with his. 

At this point you didn’t care if your friends could hear or not, you wanted Azriel’s mouth on you, his fingers, his cock. You wanted to feel all of him. 

“Whatever my sweet angel wants,” he blew some air into your cunt, making you shiver in anticipation. Azriel dive in, devouring you like a male starved, like he might die if he didn’t get to taste you. He all but full on made out with your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking sharply. He groaned at your taste, the reverberations causing your eyes to roll back into your head, hips jerking up. He wrapped one arm around your hips to keep you pin to the bed and switched between harsh sucks and flicking the wet muscle around the nub. The pleasure was all too much and not enough at the same time, you moaned his name aloud and tugged at the strands of his hair again. 

Azriel’s free hand reached down to spread your folds, soaking his digits in your arousal before proding one finger at your entrance, and pushing inside. Your walls immediately clenched around him, making you both growl in pleasure. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so tight. Already clenching on me,” he moaned, teeth grazing your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your lower belly, walls clamping down on his finger when he added a second one. You cried out, desperately trying to ride his face. Azriel pumped his fingers inside of you faster, curling his digits to reach that sweet spot that had you seeing stars behind your lids. Words were beginning to fail you, mumbling incoherently about how close you were. “You wanna cum? C’mon angel, give it to me, cum all over my face and fingers.”

His words had an immediate effect on you, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure overpowered you and you let go, cumming hard on his fingers, moaning his name for all the house to hear. Azriel kept thrusting his fingers into your hole, guiding you through your orgasm and licking every last drop you had to offer. He watched you closely, eyes shut in pleasure, soft pants leaving your plush lips as you came down from your high. Only then he pulled his hand away, mesmerized by you. He crawled up your body, coming face to face with you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling. 

“Hey,” you replied, face flushed and smiling satisfied. You reached your hand to push away the dark strands that had fallen into his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. He looked absolutely gorgeous, hair disheveled from your tugging, lips bruised and shiny with your juices, gaze clouded with lust and something else. More intense even, more deep. 

You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip and he sucked it into his mouth, you almost whined again. Breaths coming in short. You brought his face to yours, kissing him with such devotion you couldn't hold back any longer. Azriel shuddered, leisurely kissing you back, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning softly, you ranked your nails down his body, from his pecs, to the hard planes of his abdomen, all the way to his cock, palming him through the fabric. He hissed when you slid your fingers past the waistband of his pants, gripping him in your hand. His hips buckled. He was big, and warm and sticky with pre-cum. You made to put his sweatpants down but he stopped you before you could take it any further. 

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked, looking intently at you. A swirl of emotions passed through his eyes, it made your heart flutter in your chest. “We don't have to, unless that's what you want. I think we made our point clear.” He laughed breathlessly. 

“It is what I want Az. I want you, I need you. Please.” You watched him with pleading eyes, full of trust and… He didn't dare acknowledge that emotion yet, not unless you spoke it out loud. Although his heart still gave a flip. Pulse picking up. 

He helped you pull his pants down, and kicked them out of his legs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abs, tip swollen and dripping. You flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen you wear, dragging your eyes shamelessly through his body. It gave him a little bit of an ego boost. 

“You're so pretty Az. So so pretty,” you murmured, eyes half lidded already devouring him. 

There it was again, you calling him pretty. He didn't know what to do with himself so he leaned in to capture your mouth in a scorching kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you, both hissing when the tip of his proud cock bumped against your clit. 

You broke the kiss to slide your mouth along his jaw, down his neck, peppering his sun-kissed skin in love bites. Marking him as yours. Azriel groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding through your folds, coating his length in your arousal. He repeated the action a couple of times before aligning himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, your wetness and the remnants of your orgasm making it easy to slide all the way in. Your walls hugged him tightly as he bottomed out, stilling, to give you time to adjust to his size. Azriel let out a moan so hot and sinful it made a new wave of arousal wash over you. 

He felt on cloud nine, his head falling to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting it intoxicate him. He could’ve cum right then and there, buried to the hilt in your heat. But he wanted it to last, taking his time to savor the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly. He had no doubt in his lust filled mind that you were made for him. You were his and only his. 

You rolled your hips at last, running your fingers down his sides urging him to move. That was all it took for him to pull out to the tip and slam his hips hard into yours, Azriel set a slow, sensual pace, intended in making you feel every last inch of him. You welcomed the stretch with a wanton moan, feeling the veins with every delicious drag of his cock against your walls. 

“Gods, Azriel, more!” you whined. “I can take it.” 

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He panted. Pulling out he gripped your hips tightly and turned you onto your stomach, ass up in the air. He thrust in harsher, making you cry out in pleasure. All signs of restraint gone. 

Azriel picked up speed, angling his hips just fine so that he could reach even deeper inside you. He quickly found the spot that had you gripping him tight, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Abusing your hole, hitting your g spot every single time, mercilessly. He had you in a state of pure bliss, bringing one arm to wrap around your middle, reaching between your legs to play with your clit. You were so close, already too sensitive from your previous orgasm. Squirming around in his embrace, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuuck! Don't stop,” you managed out, fisting at the sheets for support. 

“I won't,” he grunted, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix. “You're mine, do you understand me? Mine. No other male gets to touch you.” 

“Yes, yes I'm yours,” you panted,  desperately wanting to please him. 

“Good girl.” 

He was relentless, hips slapping with a force that had the headboard smashing against the wall. He knew you were about to cum, could feel his own orgasm sneaking up on him. Azriel went impossibly faster, pulling sobs out of you. You clamped down on him after one particular sharp thrust and your high barreled through you without previous warning. You screamed, white hot pleasure blinding you. Cum gushed out of you, making a mess of your thighs and his. He held your trembling body up, pressed to him as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. His wings flared proud behind him and he felt the tight knot in his gut snap. Azriel came with a growl of your name, hips coming to a stop. Your body falling limp atop the bed. 

Slowly pulling out of you, he watched astonished at the mess you made, both of your juices dripping down your legs. When his breathing became even again, Azriel leaned in to press a kiss to your spine, making you shudder. 

“You okay, angel?” He asked, scarred fingers gently pushing your hair out of your face. 

You smiled tiredly at him, content. “I feel amazing.” 

He chuckled and laid back next to you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You pressed a kiss over his heart, arms resting on his stomach, still catching your breath. No one spoke for a while, enjoying the aftermath of your actions. There was no room for worry, not with Azriel. Not ever. 

He traced iddle circles on your skin, loving how well you fit next to him. 

“Az?” You called softly to him, he hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you hear that?” 

He stilled, straining his hearing. Muffled moans could be heard down the hall and the distinct sound of a headboard smashing hard against the wall. You laughed in unison. 

“I think we may have spurred them on,” he said amusedly, voice hoarse. 

“I've never been more glad to have left my room than right now” you chuckled. 

“You and I both, angel.” He added, squeezing your ass. 

You turned to him, placing a kiss to the outline of his jaw. Silently admiring the hickies you left on his neck. 

“How does a second round sound?” You purred. 

He smirked, cock already hardening. “Absolutely delightful.” 

[soleilnomoon]

Hello! May I get some strawberries and possibly some mango with a mai tai (Kidd) and songs 3,4 and 16 from the playlist please! Thank you so much!

hihi  ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ i love writing for kidd, he’s so ridiculous all day every day. ty for requesting & i hope you have fun reading 💛💕

1k words (it wasn’t my fault), gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff (it’s there somewhere) & smut; feat. kidd & reader in denial bc that’s how i live my life, a lil fwb except is that all there is~, alcohol, kidd being dumb & that’s how reader likes him (tbh me too), rough sex (does kidd even know the definition of gentle? no?), kitchen sex, choking, a lil bit of a hand job, idk no real warnings except eustass kidd deserves his own warning bc *motions to him* have u seen that man in action (if u see spelling errors/grammar mistakes no u didn't 💕)

it’s not goodbye, you remind yourself for the fourth time that night, throat suddenly dry at the thought. the ice in your cup melted a while ago, so you toss the watered-down drink onto the sand before standing up. when eustass kidd insisted on throwing a party, you didn’t think much of it; how quickly you forget that pirates are notorious for their theatrics and kidd isn’t immune to that behavior.

a large bonfire blazes in the middle of the beach, the air warm and sticky; you hate how humid it is and hate that you let the others talk you into drinking. now your hair is tied up, to keep its thickness away from your neck and face, as sweat glides down your skin. without looking back, you leave everyone behind and make the short trek back to your house. you’re determined to shower and call it a night; you doubt your presence will be missed that much.

after downing another shot of tequila, a frown works its way onto kidd’s lips as he stares at the empty shot glass in his hand. he’d meant to just have a few drinks, but he got roped into game after game by his crew mates and he lost track of time.

now you’re gone.

it’s a sobering enough thought that he shoves the glass into wire’s hand, not bothering to explain himself as he goes searching for you. he doesn’t like that you left the party early, and he doesn’t like that he’s a little bit miserable because you’re not with him right now.

it’s foolish to feel that way and equally foolish to want to do something about it. he knows that, but it’s not enough to make him turn back around.

when he finds your backdoor unlocked — a nasty habit that he can’t believe you refuse to correct — a small wave of irritation surrounds him. you didn’t bother locking the door because you knew he’d eventually make his way over — you assumed it would be much later, but kidd is always unpredictable.

and because he’s incapable of stealth when he’s annoyed, you hear him rummaging through your kitchen. you stand in the doorway, hands on your hips as you watch him eat several pastries in a row.

the man’s stomach is an abyss, you’re quite sure of it now.

“there are plates, y’know,” you say lightly, a teasing smile sliding onto your face with ease, “and napkins too.” since it’s obvious kidd has no home training whatsoever. he doesn’t see what the fuss is, but he knows it drives you crazy when he does that — which is possibly why he keeps doing it.

“didn’t feel like using them.”

his answer should annoy you, but it doesn’t; if anything, it just makes you smile again, a little sadly this time. it doesn’t go unnoticed by kidd, however, who narrows his eyes at you.

“why do you keep leaving that door unlocked?”

you blink a few times, confusion briefly taking hold of you before you realize he’s serious. “you ask me that all the time,” you counter and walk over to him, voice airy as you decidedly stuff the rest of your complicated feelings for him into a tiny box. “and what do i always say?” you place your hands on his chest — soft and gentle, which only annoys him even more.

because you like to do that — touch him like you care, like you enjoy his presence. his mind likes to play tricks on him, so he refuses to believe it; except it’s hard to tell the truth from fiction when he leans down to kiss you. all those pesky, bothersome thoughts coast to the back of his mind when you lick a bit of powdered sugar from his lips.

when he kisses you again, a different kind of heat passes through you, making you press closer, practically melting against him when his tongue caresses yours. it’s in between sloppy tongue kisses that he asks you to come with him — the decision is rash, and he hasn’t thought it through all the way, but the idea of you staying behind only pisses him off.

your heart beats a little too loudly at the prospect of leaving home and going off with him, but your answer is lodged in your throat, unable to come out no matter how badly you want to tell him yes.

he knows how deep your stubbornness goes, so naturally he’s just going to have to help you make the right decision. when he hoists you onto the counter, you unzip his pants with hurried movements and kidd groans softly as you start stroking him. you like the luxury of having your own place, but you know you’ll be lonely when kidd leaves — more unpleasant feelings that you can’t seem to keep hidden.

you wrap your legs around him as he inches his cock inside of you — slowly, at first, before he pulls back and snaps his hips forward, thrusting roughly. your lips are on his again, fingers sifting through his hair as he fucks you harder.

“come with me,” he insists again and again, you shake your head and keep your lips pressed together because you know you’re so close to saying otherwise. he clicks his tongue and he grabs your throat so you can look at him. “why?”

you wish he’d let this go — but a small, much more selfish part of you is glad he’s pressing the issue. “because…” you gasp and moan when he squeezes your neck as he gives you short, brutal strokes. kidd’s stamina is unrivaled; he fucks you like he’s trying to break the counter, nearly forgetting himself and his brute strength. he eases up a bit and releases his hold, but you’re panting when you speak again.

“w-what if you get tired of me?” your voice is quiet, but he hears you perfectly clear.

kidd rolls his eyes before tugging on your earlobe with his teeth. “is that all?” a ridiculous fear, but he can’t really judge you, now, can he? kidd fixes you with a pointed look, one that says be serious. he almost admits that he could never be tired of you, not even if he tried.

you want to tell him that you’re being very serious, but don’t get the chance as his cock hits a spot that has you babbling incoherently at him. kidd laughs out loud because knows what your answer really is; he’s just going to keep fucking you until you can say it with conviction.

[kwonkioz]

. . . brave and nerd | jeon wonwoo x reader (jo shin-yeol) x kim mingyu

part one

𐙚 I thanked my mom for putting the mixed toast in front of me, she smiled at me and then proceeded to put the dishes in the machine.

After taking a bite, I looked at her, "Mom, do you know anything about that Park twins' family?"

His brows furrowed, "I wouldn't say they're very nice people. I know their mother from the association, she is a woman with her nose in the air. Why did you ask?"

"The twins finished second and third. I found it strange when a friend of mine worked hard but came in fourth. It's not normal for them to get such high marks when even I was surprised that I got the first place."

"Mrs. Park must have paid a bribe, she doesn't want her children to be."

"Our school is not a place to accept bribes, Mom, that's why I couldn't be sure."

He turned to me, "Shin-yeol, there's nothing money can't buy. How do you think the twins ended up in your class?"

My eyebrows flew up in surprise, "Really?! O... I guessed it. People blame me, but almost everyone is torpedoed except us!"

"Is anyone still treating you the same?"

I shook my head, "They don't say it publicly anymore."

Except for one person...

He's doing it on purpose to break my heart.

After my toast was finished, I grabbed my bag and left the house. I arrived at the school in a short time by bicycle. Some people said I was a sucker for cycling to school even though we had a driver, and some of them would never shut up. But I was living my way. Yes, there are times when I use my mother's respect, but I do it without putting it in anyone's eye.

Here, everyone sees it as it suits them. I'm used to it.

After entering the classroom and taking my seat, I sighed deeply and watched the surroundings. Everyone had a group of friends or a friend. And the queue next to everyone else was full. The part of me was empty, funny...

A girl named Cho Miyeon used to sit next to me, but when she became close friends with another girl, she started to sit next to her, and this row was empty like this. Strangely enough, I didn't really have any friends. I don't have the number of anyone in this class in my phone book, except for Wonwoo. I had already bought it secretly.

Speaking of Wonwoo; He was back in the front row, quietly taking a test. It was the biggest void in my life. I don't know how my only goal was to win her love when she was so far away from me.

But every second I couldn't talk to him, something was building up inside me. If we get close one day, I want to chat for hours.

As the classroom slowly filled in, the twins arrived. I've looked at them with all my hatred, they're really annoying. They were among those who once treated me like a torpedo, and now they are doing the same thing themselves.

A little later, the teacher arrived and the lesson began. Mr. Kim had taken me to the blackboard to read aloud the quiz notes from a few days earlier. Since this quiz would only replace the oral grade, it would not be written on the list, the teacher would explain it himself or have one of the students read it.

I began to read the notes in order; "Kwon Soonyoung 90, Jeon Jungkook 95, Kim Namjoon 100, Hwang Ye-ji 70, Yoon Jeonghan 85, Xu Minghao 100, Jeon Wonwoo 100, Park Dae Gang 45, Park Dae Gun 50..."

Suddenly, the voice in the classroom went up. Some students began to react to the last two notes, and rightly so.

"How the hell do they come second or third in the exam and get so low in the quiz? It's all out there."

Dae Gun turned to the boy who said this and said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying you're torpedoed, brother, it's pretty obvious. How did you get from middle place to third place with zero effort? Are you a genius?"

"Look at me!" when he stood up, Dae Gang sat him down, "Let him go."

A girl in the back row said, "What's happening is happening to us because of people like you! You're a coward... Do it with your own success. You are incapable."

Dae Gang said, "Isn't it impotent to take your pain out on others because you don't get a high grade?"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I'm saying you're torpedoed, brother, it's pretty obvious. How did you get from middle place to third place with zero effort? Are you a genius?"

"Look at me!" when he stood up, Dae Gang sat him down, "Let him go."

A girl in the back row said, "What's happening is happening to us because of people like you! You're a coward... Do it with your own success. You are incapable."

Dae Gang said, "Isn't it impotent to take your pain out on others because you don't get a high grade?"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Never mind, Minnie, these things are unspeakable."

"Excuse me?"

As the argument spread throughout the class, the teacher yelled and silenced them. He told me to keep going.

"Park Jihyo 95, Wen Junhui 80, Roseanne Park 100, Jo Shin-yeol 100-"

"Like your first place, I hope this isn't a torpedo." I knew he was telling me when the fool interrupted me and looked at him angrily.

"No, it's my own success, as is my first place."

Some laughed, while others did not react. Another boy grinned nervously, "Sure! It's always been your own success."

Another girl asked, "You must have a connection with twins, not triplets?"

As half the class laughed, my body stiffened with nervousness, and I began to squeeze the paper between my hands. The teacher slammed his hand the table.

"Come to your senses! What kind of speech do you speak? There's no tampering with these notes, it's what you get. Know your words!"

"But sir, they're not just doing the same thing for this quiz, they're always doing the same thing."

"Yes, sir! Our families want us to get high grades, but we work and we get them, they are deserving."

I shouted angrily, "I didn't deserve it! Find another cover for your jealousy!"

One of them laughed, "What am I jealous of you? Your money?"

"Exactly, talk, talk, we're listening." after hearing another sarcastic sentence, I realized that I couldn't take it anymore.

"Off... You're really annoyed! It's so annoying, it's so repulsive!" I didn't care about the teacher who called out after me as I threw the paper on the floor and hurried out of the classroom. I barely threw myself into the fire escapes, waited until I got there, and as soon as I sat down on the step, I started crying.

Even if I cover my face with my hand so that I don't have a voice, I don't think it works. So much so that someone had already come to this sound.

"Well... Can I help?"

When I looked up, I saw a boy I didn't know. Who do I know in this school, though?

I quickly wiped away my tears as I don't like to cry in front of anyone as this boy with a cast on his hand looked at me anxiously.

"You can't be."

I thought he would leave, but he came and sat next to me. I looked at him in amazement, still worried and compassionate.

"I don't think I can turn around and leave after seeing you like this. Could you at least tell me what it is?"

My gaze went away. It hurt a lot.

"They say I'm torpedoed, so they think I'm first. They're all disgusting scum."

"Oh, you must be Jo Shin-yeol."

When he held out his hand, I turned to him, "I'm Kim Mingyu."

These were things so foreign to me that I couldn't even reach out and shake the child's hand. He had already withdrawn, "Well, you don't seem to like handshakes. I saw his name on the list, I know it from there. I finished fifth, but I'm laughing."

"Why? Is it so good to be fifth?"

"Are you a maniac, of course it's very good! Well, at least for me. You don't know how hard I tried to even get from ninth to fourth. It's against my constitution to work so hard."

I couldn't help but laugh and he laughed too. After wiping my moist cheeks, I corrected my posture.

"Thank you, I never thought I'd be able to laugh in this situation."

"You can laugh in any situation. Even rose; That's the best answer you can give them."

I sighed deeply. I don't want to be the interlocutor enough to respond to them, but they push the boundaries so much that I'm the one who ends up answering and coming out harmful.

I looked at my watch, and there were twenty minutes left in class. I stood up. I couldn't go to class now. I decided to go to the canteen to get a coffee and recuperate. When Mingyu stood up, I turned to him.

"Don't you have a lesson?"

"The class is the body, and I'm on leave," he said as he showed his plastered hand. I shook my head, "Get well soon."

"Thank you. Where do you plan to go?"

"Canteen. I'll go into the classroom for a second class, and it would be weird to go back now after I've left."

He laughed, "It is. Can I accompany you? My friends play football, I'm the only one left."

"It happens."

We had coffee together in the canteen and talked a little. I found out that he was in the 2/3 class. For now, he aimed to move to 2/2, he is normally a diligent student, but this year his grades dropped because the classes were a little empty. Now he was trying to regain his old order.

When the bell rang, we continued the conversation during the break and then said goodbye. I was back in class when he went out into the garden. I was doing my best to ignore them while the people in the class were looking at me in a type-by-type manner. Wonwoo didn't take his eyes off me until he got to my turn. When I sat down, he turned to me.

"Are you okay?"

"Does he care too much? You don't think differently from them."

He turned in front of him without an answer. Sighing, I leaned back and crossed my arms.

The gaze on me ended when the teacher arrived. Luckily, Mr. Kim didn't say anything about me throwing the notepaper and leaving. Of course, what I did wasn't right, so he told me that I had to wait in class after class. Well, I'm not surprised.

Since our next class was chemistry, we had to go to the lab. When everyone left, I waited in line. Mr. Kim left his glasses on the table and approached and sat on Wonwoo's empty bench in front of me.

"I know your mother didn't ask the principal for any torpedoes about your grades. He makes those donations of his own free will."

Such was the teacher Kim Junmyeon; He wouldn't judge you, he would trust you and support you. But no one knew its value.

"Still, that stigma sticks on him. Do you know why?"

"They're jealous of my grades."

"No," he laughed and added, "I mean, not really. Shin-yeol, it's your behavior that's the problem."

"My behavior?"

"You may not be torpedoed, but that doesn't mean you don't use your mother's power. You can leave the classroom according to your mind, you don't go to classes if you don't want to, you don't pay attention to the tone of your voice when you speak, so you often get into arguments. Just when you're walking, you have the vibe of owning the school. Yes, your grades are so good thanks to your own achievement, your own intelligence. But your behavior... You've got to get yourself in order about it."

Mr. Kim always spoke to me honestly, but the first time he smacked me in the face, I didn't want to admit it. I shook my head.

"How can I act like a model student when they are insulting me? That's what I do."

"You can't just say that's the production and get away with it, Shin-yeol, it's true for everyone! Look, I know you're not a bad person, that's why I'm having this conversation with you. If your actions were as appropriate as your grades, no one would treat you as a torpedo."

I leaned back, exhaling a troubled exhale. A few weeks ago, I was reminded of a sentence that Wonwoo said; "You can be a smart girl, but it doesn't matter because of your ego. Your arrogance has blocked your way!"

Mr. Kim was speaking for my sake. But Wonwoo's was pure hate. My interest in him made me do such ridiculous things that instead of getting to know each other, we were drifting further and further away. Because he's kind of disgusted with me.

"You live this life like a princess; But remember, princesses happen in fairy tales. We are struggling for life in the most painful way in the middle of reality."

I frowned, "I wish you were a philosophy teacher."

He laughed, "But think about what I said. You can get out."

I got up from my bench and made my way to the door. When I left the classroom, I took my cardigan from the hanger and threw it over my shoulder. When I entered the lab, not all of the students were inside because the class bell had not yet rung. So I moved on to the first vacant place I found. And I certainly didn't know Wonwoo was sitting in front of me. Of course, he didn't think so, so as soon as he saw me in the classroom, he rolled his eyes and came and started packing his things.

I pressed my hand on the pen holder he was about to pick up, "You probably wouldn't die if you sat across from me, you're already in front of me in class."

He tugged at his pencil holder hard, "Couldn't you find another place in the big class?"

I defended myself by saying, "I sat in the first place, I didn't know you were here," but he never believed it. He rolled his eyes and sat down on the stool and stopped to pack his things, "I'm sure it is."

Jeon Wonwoo is the embodiment of the word stubbornness!

Before the teacher rang the bell, the class was slowly filling up. I could feel Wonwoo's gaze on me as I took out my chemistry notebook and placed it in front of me. Already soon he began to speak.

"What did Mr. Kim say?" he averted his eyes when I looked up at him, "So if it's not special..."

I smiled slightly at her sweet shyness, and said, "He said I should be careful with my behavior." His brows furrowed as his eyes found me again, "Your behavior?"

"Hm. That I live like a princess, but that's wrong."

He laughed sarcastically, "She's not a princess; child."

This time it was my turn to frown, "Boy?"

"You don't act like a princess, you act like a spoiled child. How are you different from the little children who cry when their candy is taken from them, and who break all hell when they don't get what they want?"

No, I wasn't offended, offended, or angry.

Because he said these things willingly, even to hurt me, and he tried to distance me from him in this way. He's got a plan, he's going after it, but I'm not going to come to his game.

"Do you know what's the difference?" he shook his head with a frustrated look;

"Once children experience things that hurt, they always run away from it. I couldn't leave you."

I saw him swallow. His jaw dropped, but he couldn't give an answer. While we were just staring at each other, we both turned in front of us when the teacher arrived. I've never had any luck since Wonwoo saw me as a kid and himself as candy.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

For two days, Wonwoo had continued to run away from me, and the more he did, the more I chased him. Some things never change.

There was a basketball game today, and Wonwoo looked so cute with a bandana on his head that I couldn't take my gaze off him. While the other girls were screaming Soonyoung, Mingyu, or Seungcheol's name, my only focus was on Wonwoo. I don't care about anyone else.

The gym was filled with enthusiastic cheering, and by the time the first half was over, it had become a little quieter. When I looked at Wonwoo sitting on one of the chairs at the side of the field, I noticed that he was out of breath, but there was no water there. I made my way to the unopened packages, tore the nylon, and grabbed two bottles and went over to him. I sat down and handed one to him and placed the other next to him. He was really tired, he put the water on his head.

"Basketball doesn't work for cows."

Even though he didn't like being called a nerd, he didn't bother about it and grumbled about the coach, "I told the coach not to add me to the team so I can't do it! Who's listening?"

"Why do you say that, you got the first number."

"It is, but I don't have time for that kind of thing. I have to study for the second exams."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "You're really a nerd." she stared at me, "You're the one who likes a nerd, but?"

I pressed my lips together and smiled, and leaned slightly over him with the support of my hand, "I see you're getting used to it?"

She blinked in panic, she was incredibly cute!

"What's the point? Or stay away! You're getting on my nerves."

I pulled back, chuckling and laughing. By the start of the second half, he had clenched his neck and ran towards the field. It didn't matter if they won or didn't win because it was a friendly match for the upper classes. They were just playing for fun. With the comfort of this, I only watched Wonwoo.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

The other team won the match, but as I said, it was a friendly match, winning was not anyone's priority. As I drove to the car alone after school, I caught up with Wonwoo, who was a few steps ahead of me.

"I can let go."

"I'm not crazy enough to get into the car of someone who doesn't have a license, so keep it."

"I drove the car for only one day, today the driver is taking it. And even though I don't have a driver's license, I drive it just fine."

"Whatever."

He wasn't about to stop, and when I grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him, he let out a weary breath.

"Rest in peace, Shin-yeol."

"You too."

"I'm already-" he knew what I meant and paused, and I laughed lightly. But he still looked bored, and my brows furrowed when he continued, "I don't have the peace you're looking for, get it."

"How do you know? You didn't even make an effort to get to know me. You always make firm decisions without trying."

"Because I don't have time for that! I'm the nerd who can't think of anything but my grades, and you'd better find yourself a bum like yourself."

A bum like yourself...

He had gone again. The sweet bickering between us was gradually turning into painful arguments.

When I got home, my mom came home early from work, so we went to the kitchen to have a snack together. Although everyone treated us as if we were incapable people, my mother was a decent woman who knew the law very well. My interest in Wonwoo manifested itself for the first time and made me too crazy to study thinking about him, and I dropped to fifth place in the class. But even then, my mother didn't raise her voice to me one bit, believing that I would be able to succeed in the next exam. He even consoled himself by saying that fifth place wasn't bad.

People talk about a woman like that, and that's what I'm most mad about. Then why is Jo Shin-yeol acting like a bum, and they infuriate you!

"How was school today?"

"It sucks," I said quickly. I wouldn't hide anything from him. Well, except for Wonwoo, but he could already guess it, "Being in the same class as the people who treated me like a torpedo again two days ago will continue to ruin my every day."

"Let them go, girl! They say that a person knows his own business. They use the power of money for small things, so they think you do too. You are building your own successful future. Don't even hear them talking."

I was stuck on one sentence.

"Do you know who uses torpedoes?"

"So... I've witnessed it a few times at a parents' meeting, but I don't have any clear information."

I put my hands on the table and came to the front, "Mom, please tell me! Who are they? Look, everyone blames me."

He sighed as he placed the plate full of biscuits in front of me, brought a cup of coffee each, and sat down on the chair across from me.

"Park Yul Yeon, the mother of twins, is a bit of a perfectionist. He's so used to having the best of everything that he can't stomach his kids getting low grades, and he's ashamed. So he may have had some conversations with your assistant manager."

"Mom, don't talk about it! And what does it mean to be an assistant director? I think he met with the principal."

My mother shook her head, "Principal Rhee is a fair educator who does not accept bribes. He is a close friend of your grandfather, I know from there. But he's Vice Principal Woon, he's really to be feared."

"Well, he couldn't have done such a thing without Principal Rhee knowing. Besides, if you know that, why didn't you tell the principal at all?"

"I don't have any evidence. Not only me, but also many other parents are aware of the situation and they remain silent with the mindset that the mother will get bread for us."

I clenched my hands into fists in anger, "What happens happens to me happens as long as they stay silent. To this day, I have always received those grades on my own, but I am being treated like a torpedo because you donated to the school."

"It doesn't make any sense, what kind of mindset do your friends have? I donate not only to your school, but also to many other schools and institutions. It's a common thing for your father and me, but people are so used to thinking badly!"

"Their hearts are ugly, their way of thinking is ugly, their character is ugly... I don't know what to do anymore."

He smiled and took my hand.

"You have your family behind you, you don't have to be bullied by anyone. Don't worry, I'll figure it out."

"How?"

"You leave it to me, come on, your coffee has gone cold."

I was trying to understand what was going through my mother's mind as I drank my warm coffee, but it was impossible. He thought so fast and made sound decisions that it was impossible to keep up with him. Still, I was sure that he would do something to get me out of this trouble. At least, I hope so.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

[moonknightproductions]

For the character bingo, Xehanort and your favorite Yu-Gi-Oh character?

Gonna put this under a cut because the explanations are gonna get a little long lol

For Xehanort:

Explanations:

I absolutely love his design (any of them), Nomura knocked it out of the park with this one (although him being darker skinned than most of the cast is kinda… you know). Love the coats, love the boots, etc. BUT they could’ve gone even further with his character, even as a kid. Establish his weird empathy powers and run with it. Second row’s are pretty much self-explanatory.

As much as I want to say he’s got a big fanon focus, it’s really only a select group of people who’re in the know about Dark Road (see bottom left of the bingo lol). He very much is THEE character for me, the one who solidified my love for KH.

Autism beam.

If I think about him too long I get a headache (affectionate). Changed my life (as a package deal with kh obviously but Xeha specifically was a big part of it). I really want him to come back in KH4 even if just a cameo. Let me see my boy again in Quadratum living his best 14th life.

For the Yugis (I got a bingo!):

This is for both Yugi and Yami (which is why the dynamic one isn’t filled in; they work as standalone BECAUSE they’re so often in a dynamic). They’re a package deal.

Everyone makes fun of his hair but is it really any worse than, say, Goku’s? Yami especially could be a lot weirder (I know he mellowed out by Duel Monsters with Yugi’s help but l wish he retained some of his season 0 energy, he was very fun in that). The only ship I don’t really hate is Yugi/Anzu, actually. Yugi’s very transmasc to me but also I saw this fanart of fem-presenting genderfluid Yami and she was kinda hot ngl, so.

They very much captured my attention (in a “godammit why does every media I get into nowadays feature a characters with multiple personalities/accidental DID rep (affectionate)” way) and is basically the reason I kept watching past the first few episodes.

His name means game (how original, Takahashi). Autism.

Similarly to Xehanort, if I think about them for too long I start to cry (they’re just so sad and sweet to each other and aughhh). Due to his main character status, people constantly try to kill Yugi and he was bullied a lot before finishing the Puzzle.

Also similarly to Xehanort, he changed my life for the better (in combination with the series but it was mostly Yugi and Yami). However, in exchange, they will not leave my head. At all. They’re the form my consciousness is deciding to take for when I need to talk to myself (and it’s only natural that it’d do this considering the above-mentioned accidental DID rep). Not that I mind, I love him!

For context (even though this means nothing to people who aren’t also into it), I haven’t gotten to GX’s fourth season yet, but I have watched/read all of s0, watched both the og and dub of Duel Monsters, and am in the middle of reading the Duelist manga. I’ve also watched most of the Yugi-related movies except Bonds Through Time, so it’s pretty safe to say I’ve seen a lot of Yu-Gi-Oh media with Yugi in it. YET SOMEHOW I MISS HIM ALL THE TIME? I know I could always reread/watch stuff but every time I finish doing that I just wanna see my boy again??? I’m never satisfied with the amount I’ve seen him???

Despite all that, I do hope he’s happy. I haven’t gotten to 5Ds yet so idk what he’s like in that but I hope the protagonist of that show can help him if he needs it.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Some things that have been inspiring me recently--

1. I took myself to see The Boy and the Heron last night after work, and it is phenomenal. Driving home I was thinking about how much I think all of you, mutuals, would enjoy it. It is just like, completely, completely my very specific wavelength? It made me feel like it was made for me, and I feel like it was made for a lot of you, too.

2. I've been continuing my Six Feet Under rewatch, which I mentioned here before though now I can't remember why I would have. (ETA: OH RIGHT I was learning about Isshin and Ryuuken *definitely* having watched Quincy M.E.!) This show holds one of my hearts of hearts, always and forever, and what I love so deeply about it is the way it manifests ugly feelings. Sure, TV can make you feel happy or sad, and that's great, but what SFU is really good at is manifesting frustration, suffocation--that feeling of pressure building up inside you and you wanting to scream and scream and never getting to (except then sometimes, you do). It just holds you there and it doesn't back down. I feel like often TV too quickly wants to resolve the problem, achieve climax and denouement, reassure the viewer that the narrative knows what it's doing. But this show is like, we're going to hold this. We're going to hold it, and we're going to hold it. And whether the characters are trying to be good (or not trying at all), they have so much capacity to do the very human thing of being presented with the opportunity to make things better, only to seize it and make things worse--not just the second time, but the third, fourth.

And it makes me wonder, like, could my Bleach blorbos do that? my knee-jerk reaction is no, they're living different lives and they're very different people than any of the many people of SFU. I could see them making it worse once, definitely; twice, yeah, for sure. But I feel like they couldn't get much further than that? It's not in their character; or maybe it's not in their genre. Like, maybe in a world where pro- and antagonists are somewhat more clearly defined, you run up against some line. But it makes me think about like, under what circumstances could my blorbos do their third or fourth worse thing in a row? Can I imagine that circumstance? Could I write it? I haven't yet.

So I keep thinking about what that would look like, or whether I really think that it's just not in them--or whether it actually is, and I just don't trust them enough. You'd need to trust them enough, I think. I guess I mean that as a parameter for it happening in that trenchant way where it's simultaneously the worst decision a character could have made but also the most true decision they could have made--not something that's just twisting the knife for no reason, or for drama.

What about you, or you and your blorbos? (If your blorbo is of a more antagonistic nature, I think the question is more about what, from the vantage point of the blorbo, would feel wrong to them, or that they might realize regret over, regardless of whether their POV aligns with the normative scale around these things. If they, themselves, are never going to feel fucked about it [even if they're simultaneously feeling righteous about it] it doesn't count.)

3. I've been reading North Country: A Pedagogical Almanac, which is probably less about Bleach than it is a book that makes you feel life is worth living--like, REALLY living--but it has this incredible, meditative, deeply lived quality that is as plain as it is profound, and I do not use that word lightly. It's written so beautifully it makes you want to write. You read it and it's like, this is described in such a way, or this sentence exists in such a way as I have never seen before--without feeling overwrought or too conscious of its performance.

[simkermellebel]

Presenting the Perfect Private Aquarium

Have at Least 13 Different Species of Perfect Fish in Fishbowls

I feel like I have not been very fair to my previous sims in giving them an actual, well... life. So, here we meet Summer Rankine, who, this time, does not have all the traits that will help her out in this adventure. No, no, I only gave her two. Her traits are Socially Awkward, Loves the Outdoors, Handy, Lucky and Angler. Now, I've also decided to have a little backstory for every sim I introduce, so here we have Summer, who has moved into the beautiful town of Hidden Springs for some quiet alone time. She's been bullied all her life, and she was done living in a town where she was unappreciated, so she left to a place where being different was nothing strange.

Summer moved into a handmade one-storage cottage that sits directly next to a small pond, where she immediately started fishing once she arrived. As she should. Sadly, she was not skilled enough to catch these fish and had to move to a pond a little but further up the mountain.

To make some friends in town, Summer went to the tavern. There weren't many sims there, so she had a drink and headed back home.

Near the pond, Summer found a snake. She caught and got it a pretty little aquarium to live in.

Summer found it only fitting to head to the summer festival. Even on Leisure Day, it was quite empty, so Summer gathered some flowers, had some onion rings and went home.

At home, she set up her own little garden. For now, she only grew tomatoes and salad.

Summer caught her first Perfect Goldfish and put it in the big aquarium in her home. Soon enough, she got it it's own, smaller fishbowl right in front of the television.

Summer bought some books to learn more about fishing and what bait to use. She read them in the park near the pond.

Summer is a handy sim, and, finally, the first appliance of the house broke, allowing her to fix it and gain the handiness skill easily. Right after, she used the toilet, which then broke, too.

By this point Summer had gathered a Perfect Rainbow Trout and Toad as well. Sadly, the rainbow trout died and she scooped it out of the aquarium. Later that day, she luckily found another perfect trout to put back in the aquarium.

The cold hit Hidden Springs and Summer moved to a bigger body of water that wouldn't freeze for another few days. Here she found her first Perfect Alley Catfish, raising her total to 4 out of 13 perfect species of fish in her aquarium.

Summer went out to Mick Master's Karaoke and took a liking to the proprietor, Marcela Jimenez. Marcela wasn't too impressed by Summer.

As it was pouring rain, Summer decided to go fishing at the spot by the lake right across the street. She found a bunch of new fish here and found three more perfect fish of a different species, making her total 7 out of 13 in just one day!

The rain stopped and Summer headed into town. She ran into Emmet Preston, who started up a conversation, wishing to know more about the new girl in town. He became her first real friend in town.

Winter hit and Summer decided it was time to hang up some festive lights. Of course, she chose the color green.

The snow didn't hold Summer back from fishing, especially because the view of the mountains from here was astonishing.

It was quite cold outside and Summer couldn't take being out there all day, so she went inside every now and then and worked on her handiness skill. The poor appliances in her home also needed a bit of an upgrade...

Summer hadn't spoken to anyone in a few days, except for a few texts messages exchanged with Emmet. She played with her pet snake Amara for a little bit, but it didn't satisfy her social needs.

Summer went out to the fishing spot across the street for the fourth day in a row and finally caught her thirteenth perfect fish: a swordfish. Elated, she went home and put it in the fishbowl.

And that was that! Summer was such a cutie, and I'm kind of sad that suddenly it all went so fast. I would've loved to see her get to know the townies a bit more and fall in love. We'll have to save it for another time.

Love only!

[robinfuckery-blog]

MY REVIEW OF "50 SHADES DARKER"

Things were just fine until my girlfriend took me to see Fifty Shades Darker. Full disclosure: I am a dude in my twenties who never read the Fifty Shades books. I did, however, watch the first film adaptation when it came out on Cinemax last year. Actually, I watched maybe half of it. I thought it might make for good spank material. It did not. Nevertheless, I am confident I got the jist of it.

First off, there were nearly six men in the packed theater I attended last Saturday night. Like most of them (except for maybe the lone wolf in the sweatpants sitting third row center), I was not there of my own accord. Rather, I accompanied a significant other of the female persuasion, whom I gather are the intended audience.

I admit when she first suggested the film for a date night, I was somewhat apprehensive. To put it plainly, it wasn't the type of movie that I would typically pay money to see.

In the end, though, I offered little resistance. After all, she didn't complain when I took her to laser tag on our first date and also our fourth, fifth, sixth, eighth, and eleventh dates. The least I could do was go along with something that she enjoyed. Cause that's just the kind of guy I am. Also, I wanted to get laid. I'm that kind of guy, too. Anyway, here are my thoughts on the movie.

What is Fifty Shades Darker? I guess it's basically an erotic love story. Kind of like 9 1/2 Weeks, except without a coked-up Mickey Rourke to class it up. It follows the continuing adventures in assplay of conservative English Lit major and shrinking violet Anastasia Steele and her relationship with tortured billionaire, playboy, helicopter pilot, hair salon part-owner, buttplug aficionado, and all-around douchebag Christian "Dorian" Grey.

As the opening scenes unfold, we learn Ana and Christian are not actually together. Something happened at the end of the first movie apparently. Like, she didn't want to be his "submissive" anymore. I was only half watching at that point. More of my attention was devoted to finding a lesbian video featuring at least one actress who looked like my ex than it was to following the plot.

As it turns out, my failure to pay attention didn't really matter. Minutes into Fifty Shades Darker, Christian was already "renegotiating terms" for another go round at the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. All I can say is he must have read our nation’s savior and 44th President Donald Trump's "The Art of the Deal" at some point, because the two of them are back together before most of the audience has had a chance to go for a second handful of popcorn, which I made my date pay for.

The bulk of what makes up the rest of the the movie are scenes depicting Ana and Christian learning the in's and out's of having a "vanilla" relationship. For those who don't know, vanilla is a popular flavoring derived from orchids. In the instance of Fifty Shades Darker, however, vanilla refers to a relationship that is less about nipple clamps and expanding the diameter of one’s asshole and more about missionary sex and accepting asshole diameter as is.

Throughout, Christian comes off as a massively possessive dickhole blessed with the charisma of a wet phone book. He creeps and broods and makes his maid uncomfortable. He's even rude and dismissive to a waiter. That - along with being rich and capable of doing a pull up without shitting himself - are just a couple clues that he isn't a Democrat, yet he is perfectly cast. Why? Because of all the oohing and ahhing my fellow theater patrons did whenever he took off his shirt (edit - no, he does not hang dong). Also, by the time the movie was over, the floors in the theater were far more damp than I remember them being upon arriving.

At least "possessive dickhole" qualifies as a character trait, though. Anastasia is left pretty much empty-handed in that department. I'll give Dakota Johnson the benefit of the doubt, here. After all, she's not given much to work with. The fact that she can keep a straight face while reciting a line like "I was being romantic and then you just go and distract me with your kinky fuckery" is a credit to her. Luckily, there are a couple moments when she does shine. More on that later.

While Christian and Ana's romance takes center stage, a handful of subplots fill out the rest of the running time. One involves sexual harassment in the workplace. Another is about a corporate buyout. Yet another involves one of Christian's previous submissives stalking Anastasia. In fact, the movie at times threatens to become some sort of suspense thriller. Luckily, the narrative re-routes back to more interesting territory, like crowded elevator finger-banging and how to incorporate a modified chin-up bar into lovemaking.

Oh, and speaking of 9 1/2 Weeks, it seems someone thawed out Kim Basinger so she could make an appearance. She plays Mrs. Elena Bitch Troll Robinson aka the older woman who taught young Christian to channel his anger away from violence and alcohol and towards more healthier outlets, like spanking and her vagina and spanking her vagina.

There is a non-sexual climax in Fifty Shades Darker, though it is fairly anticlimactic. Basically, a situation arises and the future becomes uncertain. Some of the characters are put in a room and given a couple minutes to contemplate the nature of life and death. Then, poof, the situation resolves itself. Whole thing takes about six minutes.

So what do I think about the movie? Do I believe there is a hidden masterpiece lurking just below the veneer of hot sex and lukewarm dialogue? Do I think we will be praising it as an ahead-of-its-time satire about eroticism in the post-911 world? Will this become the Showgirls of the twenty-first century?

No. In my opinion, it is mediocre. But did I enjoy the experience of seeing Fifty Shades Darker? Hell. Yes.

I think it happened somewhere around twenty minutes in. Ana and Christian are getting ready to go out. As she fixes her hair, he whips out a pair of stainless steel Ben Wa balls and waves them in her face.

"You're not going to put those in my butt..." Ana says while most likely recalling events from the first movie.

Turns out, they weren't for her butt. Christian had other plans for the orbs. Specifically, he makes her slobber on them, then bends her over and slides the moistened balls in her vag. I myself let out an audible gasp at this development, as did the numerous middle-aged women to my right. I think one of them might have tinkled a bit.

Christian doesn't stop there, though. He then proceeds to take Ana, balls in (camel) tow, to a charity gala hosted by his parents. Throughout the event, Ana squirms in ecstacy with each sudden movement. Christian cracks a joke and her laughter is cut short because she has to hold back an orgasm. This part of the movie, to me, ends up being rather thought provoking. As in, it made me wonder how many women go around with Ben Wa balls inside them all day and could that possibly explain why my Nana has been so jumpy lately?

While the Ben Wa balls bit was the most enjoyable set piece, it was far from the only enjoyable one. I won't detail the rest here, but there were plenty of moments when me, my date, and the rest of the audience were laughing and engaged in a way that I rarely see in movie theaters, even during the most comedic of comedies.

In the end, I left Fifty Shades Darker pleasantly surprised, yet ready to move one with my life. But this movie wasn't done with me just yet.

While walking through the mall with my lady friend, I could tell there was something different about her. Normally she's run down after our date nights. Laser tag will do that to a person. At least, if you're doing it right it will.

But she didn't appear run down. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was twinkle in her eye, a skip in her step, and a song in her heart. I asked if maybe she had forgotten to take her antipsychotics again. She said, no, that wasn't it. Told me point blank she wanted to "hop on my pogo stick" and "ride it all the way to Albuquerque."

For those who don't know, a pogo stick is a spring-loaded device used by children and certain extreme sports athletes as a way of traveling in as inefficient a manner as possible. In this case, however, it referred to my cock. That having been made clear, we rushed back home as quickly as my 2017 Mitsubishi Outlander could manage.

Once we got back to my place, it was game on. No small talk, no foreplay, no frantic search for a condom. It brought back memories of attending Great Mills High School. In fact, I didn't even have a chance to walk around the block to get the farts out, as is tradition. She literally said "let's do some kinky fuckery," then slapped me in the face with a rolled up newspaper. The New York Post, I believe, which made it all the more demeaning.

My Crocs and argyle socks were barely off before she had my hands bound with duct tape and my eyes blindfolded with the tie I used to wear when I worked at Olive Garden (which still smelled like alfredo sauce). Up until that point, she had done nothing to me that I hadn't done to myself at some point in time already. But then she made me jelly a pair of spit-lubed Titleists up her asshole, even though I'm certain I told her at some point I don't care for golf. From that point on, I was in undiscovered country.

Eventually it came time to "bang it out" if you know what I mean (I mean sex). She decided to opt out of the "oral package" that I offer all my dates. It consists of seventeen minutes of thorough and vigorous cunilingus followed up by cocktails and a reading from the Book of Ezekiel. Frankly, she didn't need it. Her panties were already as wet as a Mumbai street urchin's feet during monsoon season.

Since I'm a gentleman, I shall spare you the rest of the gory details. I won't tell you about how she put a bar of soap in a sock and wailed on my scrotum with it. I will forgo the parts involving her vagina sneezing on my neck. And I certainly will not recount events that led to her pulling hardened candle wax out of my urethra.

All I will say is this: the lovemaking was of a variety I never knew existed. It was as if dolphins were singing next to my futon that night. I felt like I was being ass-fucked, but in the heart.

It comes as little surprise that I forgot myself during the course of things. So loud and violent was my pasion (it means "passion" in Spanish), the downstairs neighbors actually stopped me during my morning beer run the following day and asked if I happened to have held a slam poetry event in my apartment the night before. I said no, but there would be one next Thursday and they weren't invited. They might have bought my story, too, if not for the smell of sex emanating from my face. That's a story for another day.

Being that we are at the end of my review, I leave you with this: while hilariously bad at times, Fifty Shades Darker, when viewed under the right circumstances, is a worthy piece of entertainment and can be enjoyed even by those who exist outside the presumed target audience of older women. It also makes for a profoundly effective date movie.

[hotched]

First Day

Summary: No one likes the first day of class. No one except for you. Only when it means you have a beautiful new professor to admire.

Masterlist to A Million Little Times series

Word Count: 1068

Warnings: first day anxiety, little spicy allusions to sex

A/N: thank you to @fatherhotchner for giving me the push to write this & helping with the series title & being an all over joy. This took a lot out of me to write because it is based on my real life experiences of the man who taught me how to love many years ago (who may have also been my professor 🤭) so who better than to project those feelings onto than the god-like man himself 🤤

Gif credit goes to @lilygarlands <3

There is nothing more stressful than being a freshman. Not knowing the campus or the people and awaiting the horror stories they give about professors, it would give the strongest, most confident of people anxiety. Or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Everyone else is just as lost and confused as you are. Fake it until you make it. Just walk it off, that’s all you had to do.

The first class went fine. You recognized enough of the people from orientation that you felt like you were in the right place and everyone made nervous jokes. The professor was lackluster but bearable. He didn’t seem like he would be a hard ass so you had some hope.

Your second class went about the same. One of the girls from your first class ended up in your second as well so you struck up a conversation on schedules and seemed to hit it off. You had three classes together, your first two of the day and then your fourth. All you had to do was brave your third class and then you would have another friendly face again.

Little did you know just how drastically your life would change in that third class. The moment you stepped into the classroom, you got chills. There was a warm feeling in the room, not from the temperature or an abundance of decorations, but from his presence. He was looking down at papers on his desk when you wandered in, early, and went to find a seat. You chose the third row, close enough to see but not close enough for anyone to think you were a teacher’s pet. Sitting down, the noise must have drawn his attention because you got caught observing him before you averted your stare towards the wall. His molten brown eyes were looking you over, his gaze making you feel suddenly exposed. You tried to peek out of the corner of your eyes to see his reaction without making it obvious. Hoping he would get bored and look away, you continued to study the wall and wait for the rest of the class to wander in.

His eyes didn’t leave you until the next student came in, peeking their head around the corner to make sure they weren’t the first one in. When she saw you, she shot you a small smile and found a seat behind yours. You finally felt like you could breathe, now that his intense stare was elsewhere occupied, back to scribbling on the pages in front of him. The rest of the class eventually ran in right before class started and you found yourself somewhat giddy in anticipation of what his voice would sound like. You hadn’t let yourself admire him for long but that initial look revealed dark, tousled hair that hung low onto his forehead and high cheekbones below dark circles and bushy eyebrows. He was exactly your type.

“Good afternoon, class” he spoke, voice strong and deep in a way that made your thighs clench and eyelids droop. His eyes were sweeping through the 30 or so people in the class but always hesitated momentarily on you.

“My name is Professor Hotchner but you can call me Hotch. I worked as a prosecutor for 13 years before I was asked to teach here at the university. I will grade harder than any of your other professors, but encourage discussion on your scores. You should have received your syllabus from me early last week, for those that read it and ordered the materials already, congratulations. You have a much higher chance of succeeding in this class than those that have not” his voice rang out like thunder against the bare brick walls and silent class, “I won’t waste your time and mine by having you go around and introduce yourselves. The school provides your ID pictures along with your names so I already recognize most of your faces. However, I would recommend that you take the time to introduce yourselves to each other. You will need their help this semester. Here is what you can expect…”

The absolute authority in his voice made your insides clench, both in panic and desire. You had already started reading the required textbook sections to prepare for the intense course load of university so you weren’t too worried about the class. Instead, you were excited to utilize office hours to talk to the dreamy professor about your notes on the required texts so far.

You spent the majority of the class daydreaming, eyes glazed over as you halfheartedly watched him pace the front of the room as he talked about what the upcoming semester would entail. Maybe you should have paid more attention, but between the honey tones in his eyes and the warming quality to his voice, you were fighting the urge to not fall into a complete daze.

When everyone started to get up, you were shaken out of your thoughts and forced back into reality where his hands weren’t wrapped around your neck or pulling your hair. Instead, they were gripping the textbook he had been discussing as his eyes sought out your own. You shot him a quick grin that you feared was more grimace than smile and quickly packed up your things. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him start towards the door but was quickly interrupted by another student who started asking rapid fire questions about the syllabus. The scowl on his face as his gaze burnt into your back would stay with you throughout the rest of the day.

You couldn’t concentrate through your fourth class but thankfully, it went by quickly. After making the trek back to your dorm, you flung yourself face first into your mattress and let the steady smell of home calm your racing heart. Your roommate was gone, thankfully, so you had some time to come to terms with your new reality before you had to push it down.

You spent what felt like hours reliving the same daydream from earlier that day mixed in with the new tones of his voice you heard during his lecture. With one last sigh, you forced yourself up out of bed and to the shower. Your roommate talked about going out that night so you wanted to start getting ready to distract yourself from thoughts of your unattainable professor.

tags:

@multiverse-mxdness @nvttiara @angelmather1 @elhotchner @red-red-rogue <3

[the-cult-of-russo]

I Miss You

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: idk if you’re taking request but i have a Billy x reader imagine where the reader is being super clingy and Billy tells one of his friends.The reader eavesdrop on that conversation and decides to distant herself from Billy.

A/N: I wasn't really sure what resolution you wanted for this one so this was what I came up with. I could have gone really angsty about it but I don't know, I liked this one.

Warnings: cursing, angst, fluff. 

----------

"Yeah, man… I don't know. It's just a bit much… I mean, she's always here or on the phone with me… I dunno… she's just… clingy, I guess."

You knew you shouldn't really be eavesdropping but you hadn't intended on it. Both you and Billy had been tangled naked in his bed after some good sex when his phone started to ring. He'd slipped into the living area to answer it. You'd only gotten up because your bladder was shouting at you but as you'd slipped on his shirt and gone to the bedroom door, you'd caught the end of the conversation. 

It honestly felt like a smack in the face. You were pissed and hurt that instead of talking to you about it like an adult, he instead opted to bitch about you to a friend, no doubt Frank. You weren't in a relationship, it was just casual sex and it had been for a good few months now. You weren't expecting anything else from him. And sure, sometimes you'd find yourself at his place a few nights in a row after work and sure you'd send him texts during the day or call. But never once had he acted like it was an issue. In fact he always sounded happy to pick up the phone and sometimes he was the one insisting you stay the night. 

It wasn't like you wanted a relationship with him. You went into this knowing what it was. You didn't love him. You liked him, both looks and personality, but you didn't love him. It could be easy to fall in love with a man like him but you hadn't let yourself. But things had just been natural with the pair of you. Easy. A casual intimacy neither of you expected but didn't seem to mind. Except he clearly did mind it. 

You weren't even that upset that he felt that way. He was entitled to his opinions and feelings and you wouldn't take that away from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable or feel smothered. What bothered you was how he never once made it known and was going behind your back saying things like that. It made you feel small. It made you feel stupid like some young girl with an unrequited crush.

You rushed to get dressed and decided you'd leave, bladder forgotten. If he wanted distance then that's what he'd get. You weren't going to stick around to be made a fool of like this. He obviously wasn't happy with how you were so you'd remove yourself from the situation. 

Just as you were slinging on your jacket, Billy came into the room only in his boxers and quirked a brow at you.

"Goin' somewhere?" He asked, sounding vaguely amused. His laid back attitude made your eye twitch after hearing what he'd said on the phone. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna head home. I've got work early tomorrow," you said casually, closing your jacket. 

"Oh…" he murmured, brows wrinkled. Yeah, didn't expect that did you, Russo?

You gave him a bland smile, squeezing his arm before walking out. You didn't really want him to know you'd heard him and have to deal with that awkward talk but you didn't much feel like kissing his cheek goodbye like you normally did. He'd normally walk you to the door and you'd kiss his cheek, then he'd capture your lips as you traded lazy kisses at the door before you left. Well not this time. Instead you left the apartment and left a stunned Billy Russo standing in his bedroom blinking at the door. 

You threw yourself into work. It was something to help distract you from contacting Billy. You wouldn't say you were clingy but you had gotten used to talking to him daily and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right. You'd give him the distance he wanted. 

You hadn't text or called him and when three days went by, he'd surprised you with a text at work. 

'Just wanted to check in and see if you're okay. Haven't heard from you in a bit.' 

Your right eye twitched again at his message. This was what he wanted so why bother reaching out? You shot him a short message back along the lines of 'I'm fine. Busy at work.' And that was that. He didn't reply and you didn't really care that much.

The fourth day since you hadn't spoken to him and he called your cell around noon when he knew you'd be on lunch. Your hand flexed with the urge to answer but you resisted. You stayed firm even after it rang a second time. But then it flashed up with a voicemail and you couldn't help being intrigued so you listened to it.

"Hey… uh… I guess you're still busy with work. I just… wanted to make sure you're okay. Hope you're not workin' yourself too hard. Just… call me back or somethin', yeah?"

You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw. This was what he wanted yet he was contacting you. You hated that you itched to call him back but you still refused. Maybe you were stubborn or maybe you still felt slighted by his words to his friend, either way you didn't call him back. Even if you did miss him just a bit.

The fifth day came around and you were exhausted. You'd hadn't lied when you told him you'd been busy with work but you'd made more work for yourself to keep busy. Not only were you doing your own but you'd been helping others out too just to stay busy and keep your head Billy-free. You'd stayed late the night before and then came in early and you hadn't given yourself a chance to grab a coffee. 

You sat behind your desk as you read an email from a colleague as your office door knocked around noon.

"It's open," you called out as you scribbled a note in your notepad for later. You glanced up when the door opened and were stunned to see Billy standing there with a paper bag and two coffees in a cup holder.

"Hey," he smiled at you. You blinked at him for a second as he shut the door behind him. He'd never once shown up at work before.

"Hey," you replied feeling tense. He hovered for a moment, still clutching what you presumed to be food with the drinks as his dark eyes scanned your tired face.

"I just uh… I know you've been workin' hard these past few days. Wanted to bring you some lunch, make sure you're takin' care of yourself," he murmured with a frown. 

"Careful, Russo. Anyone would think you care," you scoffed with an eye roll. You hadn't really meant to say it outloud but didn't care too much that you did either. He looked taken aback for a moment before he nodded, setting the bag and cups down as he sat in the chair on the other side of your desk.

"So I did do somethin' to piss you off, then… thought I mighta done. Haven't heard from you in days. It's not like you," he said with a bitter smile. 

"Yeah, because I'm clingy, right?" You asked coldly, raising a brow. 

He looked genuinely shocked before he groaned, closing his eyes and wiping a hand over his face.

"You heard that… you… you weren't supposed to hear that," he muttered regretfully. 

"That doesn't make it much better, Billy," you squinted. He blew out a sigh and leaned his forearms on your desk as his dark gaze looked right at you. 

"I'm sorry, I-" he started, but you held your hands up to stop him and he shut his mouth abruptly.

"Look… I'm not upset you felt that way. I'm upset you didn't tell me. I didn't think I was being clingy. You never acted like it was an issue for me to be around so much or to text or call so how can I know it bothers you? I'm upset I had to find out by hearing you bitch about me behind my back to a friend like a goddamn child," you bit out, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He winced a little, drumming his long fingers on the desk before rolling his shoulders.

"It doesn't… bother me," his vague words earned him a squint from you and he sighed, sitting back up a little more.

"I freaked out… I freaked out 'cause I didn't freak out," he murmured looking confused. Your face resembled the words 'the fuck does that mean' and he rested his forearms back on the desk. He looked frustrated like he couldn't put his thoughts into words.

"This isn't how I usually do things. I'm a one and done kinda guy… unless I'm gettin' somethin' outta it like information or some shit. I don't … I don't usually go back to a girl. But you just… I had you once and I knew it wasn't enough. I wanted more. And… and I liked havin' you stay over so much and I liked your weird little texts in the day or havin' you call me to see how my day went. I didn't mind it. It didn't bother me. It wasn't too much. So me bein' me… I got in my own head and freaked out about it. I tried to convince myself it was you, that you were bein' clingy and needy, but you weren't. And… if these past five days have taught me anything it's that… I like you bein' such a big part of my life and… fuck, I missed you," he rambled, almost black eyes looking at you imploringly. 

You glanced down to the desk as you soaked in his words. You really hadn't expected any of them and you found your anger at him disappearing. When you just stared at the desk lost in your own thoughts and didn't reply, his fingers tapped on the desk again as he inhaled a shaky breath. 

"Did you miss me?" His soft and unsure voice had your eyes snapping to him. He looked so insecure you wondered for a moment who the hell he was because Billy Russo was a lot of things, but insecure was never one of them. And you knew him well enough by now to know what a big deal it was that he spoke to you about his feelings. Feelings he had that you never expected.

"Of course I missed you, asshole," you said softly. His whole face lit up, deep brown eyes shining with warmth as his lips curled into a genuine smile.

"Yeah?" He asked wryly. You rolled your eyes, playfully this time, as you leaned forward on your desk. He wasted no time in snatching one of your hands in his.

"Yeah," you said with a smile. He bit his lower lip, a somewhat bashful smile on his own face as he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to it. You almost melted.

"I don't… I don't know what this is but… I know it's different and I don't wanna push you away," he murmured softly as his thumb rubbed your palm. 

"No more bitching about me to your friends then," you smirked. He chuckled, ducking his head before landing his soft gaze on you once more.

"I mean it though, Billy. You need to talk to me next time. I don't wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable and if you don't wanna push me away… you need to learn to communicate," you said softly. He nodded, squeezing your hand. 

"I know. I'll do better, I promise," he grinned. 

The whole thing had taken a turn you hadn't expected but you were glad for it. It wasn't like you declared your undying love for one another or even decided this was an actual relationship. But it was a step. One you hadn't expected either of you to make. 

"So… you gonna let me have lunch with you? I know you're busy but… I really have missed you," how could you turn him down when he was looking at you with such soft and warm eyes? 

You smiled, grabbing the bag and making a little happy noise to see burgers from the diner you two frequented. He practically beamed, whether from you agreeing to let him have lunch with you or how happy you were by the food choice, you weren't sure. But you loved it when he smiled like that, how his eyes crinkled a little in the corner. He was breathtaking honestly and you found yourself glad he'd hunted you down at work and told you how he felt instead of pushing you away or lying to himself. If that wasn't character progression you didn't know what was  

[90stvshowgoth]

—THE BET

summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.

w/c: 4587

tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming

a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.

big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.

The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.

Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.

You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.

“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.

She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”

Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.

“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.

Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.

The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.

“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.

‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.

When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.

‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.

After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.

All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

Joker. That meant you had four queens.

It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.

All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.

An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.

Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.

“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.

A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.

“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.

“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.

Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”

“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.

Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.

“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”

A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”

Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.

He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.

Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.

“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.

Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”

Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.

“Shall we begin, then?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”

He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”

You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”

That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.

“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.

Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.

“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”

The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.

The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.

“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.

You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.

‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.

“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.

He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”

You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”

The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”

Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.

“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.

“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.

He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”

If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...

“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”

He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”

Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.

There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?

‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.

“If I lose...”

“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.

Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?

No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.

You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.

“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”

Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.

“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.

“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.

With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”

“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.

Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.

Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.

“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.

“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.

You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”

He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.

“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.

Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.

“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”

You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.

“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”

Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.

Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.

“Wh.. Why?”

“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.

Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”

Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.

You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,

“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.

All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.

“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.

He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.

“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”

“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?

Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.

Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.

“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”

“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”

Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.

With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.

That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.

“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.

“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.

It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.

The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.

“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.

“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“

His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.

“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.

“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”

The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.

“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.

As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”

“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”

He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”

[startanewdream]

(Not) A Summer Date

Written for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily. I couldn't resist writing about Carnivals (even if the ones I researched are nothing like the modern ones). Thanks for organizing this!

Please enjoy this silly sample of James and Lily spending a day together in what James swears it's not a date.

Read on AO3 or below:

____________________

It’s not a date.

It’s not.

They are just two friends who got dumped by their friends and happen to be at the same place at the same time. A place and a time they agreed upon previously. Together.

It’s not a date.

At least, that’s what James tells himself over and over, though as time goes by he really can’t tell why it isn’t one.

He is alone with Lily, after all, the girl he has had a crush on since forever—it’s since Fourth Year, but he doesn’t remember ever fancying anyone before that—just the two of them enjoying each other’s company. It was not supposed to be like that. They had exchanged letters a lot that Summer and when Lily mentioned a Muggle carnival happening in a park in London, James had jumped at the opportunity of going there with her.

Not just him, of course, this was all for Sirius’ interest in Muggle culture, or so James had expressly written in the letter back to her. And if James’ friends would go, then it wasn’t a date; he loved his friends, but he didn’t bring them to a date.

Except Sirius cancelled at the last time, Peter had owled him saying he couldn’t come and Remus had said he was feeling under the weather, all in the last possible minute, so James couldn’t warn Lily in time to reschedule. He had gone to the park, feeling strangely awkward, and to his surprise, Lily had shown up alone too. He had expected her friends to be there with her—they had formed a nice group of friends in the last year—, but he supposed she was equally dumped by her friends.

James had guessed they would cancel, but instead of looking upset, Lily had just smiled at him, her cheeks coloured because of the warm sunny day—though it was already dusk—and had just asked him what he wanted to do first.

And that is how James finds himself on a date with Lily.

Except it isn’t a date.

He knows this is not one, no matter how much he wishes things were different. If it were a date, he would have grabbed her hand when they went to that roller coaster that he really doubted if it was safe (though he kept quiet and faced it bravely); or he would have pulled her closer when they left the spinning ride, holding her in his arms until the world stopped dizzying around them.

And most of all he’d not have enjoyed the view from the giant wheel if they were on a date. Instead, James would have gathered his courage to place his arm around Lily’s bare shoulder, with some excuse about keeping her warm—even though the summer night was warm enough—that Lily would accept because it would be a date. She’d bit her lip to avoid a smile at his clumsy excuse, her eyes shining with the shadow of her amusement, and James’ attention would be diverted to her lips; she’d open them in a quiet invitation, and when he’d look back at her eyes, her answer would be ready even before he’d make the question.

And then, finally, he’d approach her, lips brushing tenderly in a way he could feel her smile before…

Before nothing, because they are not on a date and James doesn’t want to mess up their friendship.

That’s what they are. Friends. Who are certainly not on a date.

After the giant wheel, he gives up on any ride. Those eight minutes were enough to make him crawl up the walls, his treacherous mind unable to drift away from the fact that he was alone with Lily in an enclosed cabin and James doesn’t think he can survive another emotion like that.

They stop for a quick dinner and Lily introduces him to popcorn and his favourite rainbow cotton candy.

‘This can’t be normal,’ he mumbles, watching as the vendor prepares him the cotton candy.

‘It’s magic,’ she teases him. She picks up the cotton candy and eats a mouthful with a challenging expression on her face, but James doesn’t concentrate on this. If he’d kiss her now, James knows he would taste all the sugar on her lips.

His mouth gets dry.

He eats the cotton candy in a quiet silence after that, careful to look at everywhere but to his side, where Lily stands carefully licking the candy out of her fingers.

This is not a date; this is pure torture.

After that, James supposes he should tell her it’s late and they should go home, but Lily grabs him by the hand—her fingers entwining with his as if this is the most normal thing ever, as if her hand isn’t so warm and soft, as if that touch doesn’t make him burn with longing for more —and pulls him to the game tents.

‘This is what I told you about,’ she says brightly, referring to her latest letter and her vivid descriptions of Muggle carnivals. ‘You are gonna love this.’

James isn’t sure he is capable of loving anything else that night, but he doesn’t say anything.

He tries to focus on the games; the first ones are lucky games, and James’ luck doesn’t favour him. Lily gets a cartoonish fawn plushie, which she gives him.

‘It reminds me of you,’ she says, amused with her own thoughts, and James smiles at the coincidence.

‘Well, I should get you something then.’

Her eyes widen, a curious expression there that James doesn’t understand. They are in the middle of a row with game tents, children running around them, a mess of sounds and lights, and somehow he feels they are the only ones in the world when Lily takes a step closer to him, her hand placing an invisible strand of her hair behind her ear.

‘And what will you get me, Potter?’

It’s been a while since Lily has called him by his surname, but it sounds nice; not exactly friendly, but… provocative.

And though the moment is completely different from when they were at the giant wheel, James feels again that urge to move forward, to cup her face, lower his head and…

Not a date.

He turns his head hurriedly, cricking his neck in the process, and his eyes fall on a giant plush lion.

‘A lion!’, he cries, making her jump. ‘I will get you a lion, come on.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, but he doesn’t wait for her answer. James doubts he can control his impulse if they stay this close longer, so he walks towards the game tent; as far as he can tell, it’s easy: all he needs to do is throw an orange ball through a hoop. The person in front of him in the line is bad at it for some reason, but James is a chaser and a good one. He can do this.

‘Oh-oh,’ Lily mumbles at his side. ‘You’re gonna lose money here, James.’

‘How come?’

‘This game is nearly impossible to win.’

James frowns. He looks around, but no other tent has the same plush lion and he already promised he would give one to Lily.

‘I got this,’ he says confidently. When Lily still looks nervous, he winks at her, which, for some reason, makes her look away, a flush coming to her cheeks even as she shakes her head.

James doesn’t get this. He swears he throws the ball perfectly, but the first one bounces in the hoop, the second one doesn’t even hit the hoop and the third one is thrown too much to the left.

He pays another coin.

‘One more time.’

Lily joins him for a few rounds; her throws aren’t much better than his, but they aren’t worse either, which somehow baffles James. He is a good chaser, he holds the current record of goals in a game. He should get this stupid Muggle game.

‘I think we are getting good at this,’ Lily tells him ironically by their eighth or ninth attempt when the latest ball twirls around the hoop before missing it.

‘I am a disaster ,’ James admits, when his last coin is spent fruitlessly. The ball refuses to pass through the hoop.

‘You are not,’ Lily assures him. She seems more amused by his reaction than upset he was a failure.

‘I couldn’t make a single goal. That’s it. I’m resigning as Quidditch Captain.’

‘Because of one rigged Muggle game?’ Lily shakes her head. ‘I told you, it’s not made for anyone to win. The hoop is not round, the ball bounces too easily.’

‘Why is this even allowed?’

‘For the fun of it,’ she tells him, and then she bits her lip in a way James has seen before; she is nervous, gathering courage for something. When their gazes meet, her expression relaxes; her eyes are shining under the lights of the carnival. ‘I had fun,’ she says softly.

‘Watching me make a fool of myself?’

‘Not this. Even if we didn’t win… you have this expression when you are concentrated in a game, all focused like when you are flying as if nothing could distract you and… it’s nice to watch.’

‘You enjoy watching me?’ he repeats, fazed, because now he has said it out loud, it feels like there is some meaning behind it that he can’t quite grasp, something too unfathomable until this moment.

‘Well, I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t,’ she says, her voice sounding half as if this is obvious, half as if she is embarrassed by it. ‘Come on, you can spend my last coin trying to hit the darts there.’

She walks to the next tent without looking at him, her face still flushed, and James takes a while to follow her because his mind is still frozen.

Asked him out? Surely she doesn’t mean like that . Lily didn’t ask him out , she just mentioned a Carnival and told him it would be fun to go there and James had agreed… And Lily knows his friends should come and one does not bring friends to a date.

But Lily’s friends are not there yet.

‘Too bad Mary couldn’t come,’ he says slowly as he tries to aim the dart in his hand. It’s easy to pretend all his concentration is on that hit instead of waiting for her answer.

‘Oh, I didn’t call her,’ Lily says, her voice nonchalant, and James misses the dart completely. This time, he doesn’t complain.

James doubts he could form a sentence. His brain doesn’t seem to be working at all; nothing seems to be making sense, because if he could think thoroughly, then… then he would need to accept that Lily asked him out and then they are on a… No, that would be impossible, they are just friends who happen to have spent an afternoon all by themselves…

The lights of the park start to go out and they walk towards the exit; at least, when they reach the place they met—carefully out of Muggle’s prying eyes—Lily turns to watch him. She looks somewhat nervous as if she is expecting something .

‘I had fun today,’ she says at least when James stays silent. There is an underlying question in her voice that James knows how to answer.

‘I… me too.’

Lily looks relieved. ‘Good.’

‘Sorry for not getting you a gift—you can keep this fawn until—’

‘No, keep Bambi.’ She hesitates a little, her head lowering enough not to look him directly in the eyes. ‘You can get me a lion on the next date.’

‘I will—what?’

‘A lion. Or anything, really, I don’t know where I would—’

‘No, you said… a date.’

‘Yeah, well.’ She rolls her eyes as if it is nothing, though her cheeks are coloured.

‘This isn’t a date.’

‘Oh.’ Now Lily looks even more embarrassed, taking a step back. ‘I had thought… okay. Sorry.’

She looks away now, seemingly wishing to just disappear, but James knows whatever she is feeling is nothing like his current panic.

‘This couldn’t be a date. I would know if it were one.’ She turns back to him, a disbelieving expression on her face. James flushes. ‘I think.’

‘That’s okay, James, really. I just… don’t think of today as a date if you—’

‘Tomorrow,’ he interrupts her hurriedly. ‘Let’s come back here tomorrow. No, wait. Evans.’ He takes a deep breath, his heart beating too fast on his chest. He needs to do this right. ‘Would you like to go out with me tomorrow?’

He knows her answer even before she says anything just by the light on her eyes.

‘I’d love to, James.’

‘Then it’s a date.’

Lily beams, a bold expression coming to her face; it was the same she had before facing all the rides of the park, and she takes a step closer to him, rising on her tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

It feels better than that whooping sensation he got on the roller coaster.

‘See you tomorrow,’ she whispers, and then she disappears on the spot.

James raises his hand to touch where she kissed. Tomorrow will be their second date. He can’t wait for it.

____________________________

“Dear Sirius,

Your best friend is under the impression I invited you over too. I didn’t; I can show you a Muggle Carnival some other time.

Please make up a good excuse to not crash our date tomorrow.

Hope you are enjoying this summer.

Lots of love,

Lily.”

[marty101sblog]

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant.

It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper That he got from a grocery bag Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling* her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for* believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist Hospital in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? tomorrow? Just "do it".

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it?

"Believe in Angels, then return the favor."

[krreader]

untraditional.

pairing: gryffindor!kim namjoon x slytherin!reader fandom: bts ; harry potter warnings: non idol!au ; hogwarts!au ; mentions of sex  genre: crack ; fluff ; smut word count: 2.1k+

summary: after the battle of hogwarts, the school decided to bring the rivalry houses closer together. every year, you would get a partner from your rival house and this year, you really hit the jackpot.

a/n: hiiii @namucries​, idk how this idea formed, I literally just started writing and I am so happy with it. like I actually really love the plot? lol. anyways, I hope you enjoy it bb!!!

After the battle of Hogwarts, the school decided that they needed to make some changes. Not just in regards to fortification and the likes, but to how they ran the school.

This ever growing rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor couldn’t continue any longer. If it hadn’t been like this from the beginning, then maybe this whole Draco and Harry situation could have been avoided and then maybe things would have been different. 

And so the professors had decided that each year, you’d be assigned a partner from a “rivalry” house. That was true for Slytherin and Gryffindor, but not so much for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. They didn’t mind this nearly as much as you and your peers.

It was a huge deal every year. Who would be your rival partner that you were stuck with for the rest of the year? Would you be lucky and at least score some eye candy or would you be stuck with a wizard or witch that could barely hold their wand up straight? It was a surprise every year.

“I can’t believe this,” your best friend shook her head as she walked out of McGonagall’s office, “This is the fourth year in a row they’ve assigned another girl to me. I thought that now that I’m finally old enough..-“

You let out a snort, “You do know that there’s plenty of fish to catch in our own house, right?”

“Yeah, but where’s the thrill in that?” she let out a sigh and leaned against the wall, nudging her head to the door, “Fingers crossed you’re luckier than me.”

You didn’t care much about your partners. You’ve managed to avoid all previous ones on most occasions with lame excuses such as: “I’m sorry, I feel really bad today” or, “I’m so busy today, let’s study together some other time.” Most of them cared as little for you as you did for them, so it never caused an issue. Except for last year, when the guy that you were assigned to developed a crush on you and found out that you were spending your time with other Slytherin boys, rather than with him. He told on you, told the professors how you had been doing this for years - basically going against the rules - and so this year, you fully expected them to get back at you for that and assign you a partner that you’d suffer with for a year.

But the moment you entered the headmaster’s office and your eyes fell on the guy that was - apparently - your partner, you stopped walking.

“Hello there,” after a moment of staring, your confidence came back and you now smirked, “Did I just hit the jackpot?”

The guy furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the headmaster with raised eyebrows, “That’s her?!”

McGonagall let out a disapproving sigh and shook her head a little, looking at you over the rim over glasses, “Ms. (Y/L/N), do everyone in the room a favour and have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you sat down right next to the guy and licked your lips, crossing one leg over the other while continuing to grin at him.

“This is Namjoon. Your designated partner for this year. And..-“ just as you wanted to say something, McGonagall quickly continued, “This is your punishment for this year. Namjoon has been assigned Gryffindor’s headboy and you will help him with anything that he needs and wants.”

This obviously meant errands and helping Gryffindor become a stronger house. That’s what everyone else would have heard in that sentence. But you took away only two things.

“Sure, anything he needs. I’m down for that punishment,” and when McGonagall got up with an annoyed huff, you whispered, “Quite literally.”

At this point, you would have assumed the guy to blush and become intimidated, but Namjoon just smiled at you, despite it not holding any humor to it: “Does that usually work on others of my gender?”

“Don’t worry, some men need a few hours to warm up to me. I’m sure you and I will get along well,” you got up and bounced on your heels, “Thanks for this, headmaster.”

“It’s not a..- just get out,” she had enough of you.

“So.. where are we going first?” this was day one of you being Namjoon’s partner. Unfortunately, it didn’t start with a tumble in his bed, but the day was still young, “How about we go for a butter beer and get to know each other better?”

“I have friends for that,” Namjoon retorted making you stop in your tracks for a moment, but then catch up to him with a laugh.

“Oh, this is going to be so good. I love it when men aren’t shy. Makes them so much more attractive, you know?”

Namjoon let out a snort and shook his head, “Not sure you’ll think of me that way after today.”

Suddenly you came to a stop at a willow. Normally, that’d be a nice sight. Nature, grass, the sun.. But it was not like the paintings hanging in the castle that you often admired, it wasn’t a willow full of magical creatures that you could be amazed by.

It was..-

“COWS?!”

“Yep,” Namjoon grinned and pushed a bucket into your hands, “Someone needs to clean the willow, since Hagrid is away for the month. Nobody was willing to do so and since you and I got paired up, I figured I have the perfect candidate for the job.”

“What, someone to clean?!”

“Someone who is used to shit. After all, that’s all that comes out of your mouth, isn’t it?” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows at you and put his hands in the pockets of his pants, “I’ll be over there reading up for my next class if you need me.”

“Wh..- You’re not even helping me?“ but you had no option, because he was walking away and the cows were already approaching you, curious about who this new person was that had entered their willow, “Hey, stop that,” you tried to scurry away from them when they started nibbling on your shirt.

This was so not what you had hoped today to look like. Cleaning cow shit.. was Hagrid seriously the only taking care of this? Poor guy..

Still, all the while you were cleaning, you kept muttering curse words directed at Namjoon, even if he couldn’t hear them. They made you feel better. 

How dare he be so rude with you? You didn’t just talk shit, you were a great girl. Smart and well-read and.. stupid.

You straightened your back and furrowed your eyebrows, “What the hell am I doing?” you whispered to yourself.

I’m a freaking member of goddamn Slytherin. Slytherin’s don’t just clean like that, they’re too smart for that. Use your magic, you moron!

Whatever Namjoon wanted you to do, you’d bend the rules to your will as much as you wanted. What was important was that it was clean, right?

So you pulled out your wand and cast the spell that you figured would help you out most here. And indeed, after casting it for a few times, the willow looked as good as new. And with a final spell for a nice smell, you walked back to Namjoon with a smirk on your face. As in: HA, didn’t expect that one, huh?

“I’m impressed,” he smiled up at you from the ground, then got up and brushed over his pants, before saying in all honesty: “I knew there was talent slumbering somewhere within you. You shouldn’t hide it under that ‘cool kid’ facade, you know?”

“What?” you snorted, “I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. It’s painfully obvious,” he shrugged, “It’s fine, you do you and all. I just think it’s a shame that you try to hide how smart you are in fear of it ruining your reputation. Because see, McGonagall didn’t just choose me as your partner because she knew I had enough errands I’d need help on, but because she knows there’s more to you than what you want everyone to believe. She thought I might be able to help you with that.”

And for the first time in forever, you had no words to that. No witty comeback and no flirty remark that you could say to that. He had seen through you on your first day of you two being together. That hasn’t happened before… ever.

“Anyways, we should go to class,” and to make you even more speechless, Namjoon took off his robe and placed it over your shoulders, since you had forgotten yours - or more likely simply opted not to wear it because you didn’t want to.

You were… so confused.

What were those feelings you were feeling right now?!

You had never cared about your rival partner in the years before, but that changed with you having been assigned to Namjoon. That first day on the willow spent together was the beginning of a, you dared to say, friendship.

He made you understand that being this sarcastic asshole wasn’t nearly as cool as you thought it was. He made you realise that you had a lot more talent than you even knew of yourself. He showed you that, even if you didn’t, he believed in you.

Your friends kept telling you how much you changed, and while some of them laughed about it at first, they all accepted you now. 

The real you that you’ve been trying to hide for so long. The girl that could be kind when need be and was incredibly smart on tests and in classes.. or in general.

But the sarcasm part? The flirty part? Your rival partner couldn’t quite get rid of that..

“Well, don’t you look dazzling,” you grinned as you spotted Namjoon at the Yule Ball. Both of you had come with different partners, but neither of these were anything more than friends.

“Right? The pants look great on me,” he complimented himself with a grin.

“True,” you pretended to think for a moment as you stared at them, then you looked at him from under your eyelashes, “But you’d look even better without them.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but let out a laugh. At this point, he had come to accept that this was just a part of you that he couldn’t change. And well.. maybe he didn’t even want it to.

“We’re here with other people, yet you’re flirting with me. Don’t you think that’s rude?”

“Not at all. And besides, I wanted you to ask me out, but you didn’t,” you pretended to be hurt by pouting your lips, “We could have had so much fun tonight.”

And see, the Namjoon that YOU knew - or at least thought you did-, would have laughed and turned around to walk away. But that man still surprised you every single day. He took a sip from his drink, then placed it on the table next to him and pushed his hands into the pockets of his dashing pants.

“We still could.”

Not the answer you had expected, same as that look that he threw you.

That look.

Before you could reply, he turned around and walked away. But instead of re-joining his date - that had since formed a little group of girlfriends around her, all laughing, thankfully - he left the ballroom.

And well… you couldn’t not follow, right?

He continued walking, even though you were sure that you knew you were only a few steps behind him, through several hallways and up several flights of stairs, until you were finally standing in front of the Gryffindor common room where he had waited for you.

“Hm.. I’m pretty sure I won’t be allowed in there,” you cocked your head to the side, “But whatever it is that you had in mind.. I’m sure it’s innocent enough for us to do right here?”

You licked your lips, then bit down on your lower lip with a grin.

Namjoon was leaning against the railing of the stairs, confidently so. He looked insanely good right there. So good that you wanted to jump on him this very moment. 

But he took the initiative.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, smashed his lips against yours and kissed you so deeply that he literally knocked the breath out of your lungs. It was a passionate kiss, tongues and teeth clashing against each other and hands already beginning to wander, despite the… not very private environment.

But this desperation only proved how much sexual attraction had been building between you two. Because as much as Namjoon had tried to hide it the first few months, he liked you as much as you liked him.. sexually at first, and then later, on a more deeper level. 

But that was another story. Right now, this was about what you needed in that moment.

“I want you,” Namjoon whispered against your lips.

“Then take me,” is what you whispered back without having to think twice about it.

And he would have. He would have pinned you against his mattress and would have pounded into you until you were screaming his name. And you would have let him. You would have begged him not to stop, because you were already sure that he was good. 

But goddamn it, the Fat Lady just had to ruin it, huh?

“Uhm, excuse me, young lads.. I tried to let you two enjoy yourselves for as long as I possibly could, but I just heard what you said and there is no way I can let you inside now.”

These stupid rules. What were the professors so scared about? Pregnancies? You were witches and wizards, you weren’t stupid enough not to know how to prevent that from happening.

You were almost certain that Namjoon would just call it a night with a heavy sigh and you’d be left horny for the rest of the night, but instead, he pushed himself off the railing and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, whispering: “Headboy’s have a lot of privileges these days, you know? The Prefects’ bathroom is open 24/7 for us to use. Us alone,” into your ear.

Well, well… there were so many things you did not know about this man and you couldn’t wait to find them all out.

[writesowhatnext]

everybody has those days // fred weasley

Summary: A drunken night at Harry and Ginny’s wedding leads to a slightly, very awkward situation with the reader and the bride’s elder brother

Request: nope

A/N: basically I read sunkissed by @ickle-ronniekins​ and I became, as the kids say, thirsty also as I was doing the warnings I realised that I essentially described uni so go figure!!! i don’t know why but this was so difficult to write and I’m like wow am I just losing the ability to form sentences

Reader: female

Warnings: suggestive themes, hangover, drinking, nudity, hickeys, innuendo, swearing, 

A low sound escaped your lips as you shuffled, frowning at the strange weight over your waist. Peeling your eyes open, you winced as rays of bright sunlight leaked through the open curtains. So, you figured, today was almost certainly not going to be a very productive one. You huffed and then blinked slowly, adjusting to the light and letting your eyes focus, a decision you definitely regretted as a familiar face came into view.

Now, you’d recognise Fred Weasley’s face anywhere. Not only was he your best friend’s brother, but he was also half of your bosses and a man you’d been regrettably attracted to for almost seven years. So, as you looked at the slope of his nose and the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and his brassy red hair, you knew that you had made a decision somewhere along the way the night before with very hefty repercussions. And so, as all rational and mature people do in such a situation, you decided to handle it with a certain level of grace and decorum.

“Oh, fuck.”

You hauled yourself from the bed, your head screaming at the immediate whiplash from your sharp exit. The room spun around you and your knuckles look fit to burst as you clutched at the sheets in your hands, pulling them to your chest. Whether it was your abrupt profanity or the vicious reorganisation of his bedsheets, Fred let out a deep, gruff exclamation and tumbled backwards off the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you were both silent, except for the panting noises of your combined heavy breathing, and you found yourself staring very intently at Fred’s confused expression, trying desperately to remember the night before. Why couldn’t you sleep with and forget someone you hadn’t been pining for years for? Wouldn’t that have been more fun?

“What the bloody hell did you-“ he stopped himself as he looked at you wrapped up in his bedsheets, the skin of your neck and collarbones mottled with dark purplish bruises that he was sure he could almost still taste on his tongue. “Oh.”

He stood up with great difficulty, rubbing his head with his hand, sending his hair into ruffled disarray. You didn’t exactly mean to look down and you also didn’t mean to let out a high-pitched screech at the sight of his manhood.

“You’re naked!”

You looked away quickly, heat flooding your cheeks as he grabbed a pillow, the one you’d just been lying on, and placed it over his junk.

“You’re naked, too!”

Though you hadn’t intended to, his indignant tone made you look at him, and you caught what was left of an embarrassed flush extending from his face, all the way down his neck. You clenched your jaw at the sight.

“Please don’t think about me naked,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as the throbbing in your forehead returned.

“Sorry, love,” he said. A lopsided grin pulling at his lips despite the edge to his voice, his inner panic rather obvious beneath the surface. “But I think that ship’s already-“

“Fred!” you squeaked, your eyes growing wide. He stayed silent, but his smile didn’t budge, enjoying your flustered expression far too much. “Do you remember what happened?”

You looked at him then, properly this time. He was handsome, but you always knew that, what with his strong jawline and the long slant of his neck. The skin all over his collar and chest was pale and freckled and covered in dark, splotchy hickeys, you realised with a strange warmth flooding your system. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat as your eyes trailed down, taking silent note of the lean muscles of his arms and his toned stomach.

“No, but if the way you’re looking me up and down right now is anything to go by, I think I can take a guess how it started.”

“What- No- You… Fred, you are so irritating,” you spluttered, annoyed that he could get you so riled up so easily. He shot you a lazy grin, the same one you’d seen almost every day since Ginny introduced the two of you. From the day you met, you and Fred had a habit of bickering constantly about nothing and everything all at the same time and you were sure that had you not been a close family friend, you’d have been fired years ago. Thinking of the family for the first time, your face soured as you dreaded to think what their reaction would be if they found out about how you spent your night. They’d probably hate you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

You shot him a dry look before remembering where you were. “I have to leave. Like right now.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, too busy searching the ground for your clothes, heat searing under your skin at the haphazard display of them on the floor.

“Hey, wait, hold on,” Fred said, reaching out to you with one arm, holding the pillow with the other. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to focus.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we…” he voice wavered slightly, a first for Fred. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“This-“ you said, pointing between you and him, your underwear flying around in your grip. “Was a mistake.”

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your hand and huffed, reaching down the get the rest of your clothes, searching for your dignity whilst you were down there. He probably only wanted a shag and whilst that would be totally fine for someone else, you just couldn’t do that. Not with your history. Not with your feelings.

“But-“

You didn’t give him the chance to speak as you shot up sharply.

“Turn around then!”

His brown eyes turned dry as he tilted his head, a silent sarcastic question on his lips. Your frown deepened and he sighed, turning around dutifully. You rushed to put your clothes from the night before on, struggling to keep your balance, especially when your eyes stalled on his bare bum.

“You better be looking at my arse,” he said, his signature smirk loud in his voice. You couldn’t even try to respond, returning to your dressing with new-found haste.

That had been a week and a half ago and you were still avoiding a proper conversation with him. You’d talk, of course, you worked together, you had to, but it was always just courtesy, small talk, and then that deafening silence Fred hated so much. He missed the easy banter you had and more than anything, he missed you. It all just felt so wrong and he couldn’t help but feel that he’d messed everything up somehow. And so, if you asked him, that’s why he was stood there, hiding behind boxes of sweets stacked neatly on a row of shelves and watching you refill the massive tub of love potions. He felt like a creep, but he hadn’t formed the right sentences or backbone required to talk to you yet. And so, as you emptied the box in your hand and made to fetch another from the backroom, he went to follow you, stopped only by a familiar waistcoat, or rather the man wearing it.

“You alright there, Fred?” George asked, the smile in his voice more than evident as he looked down at his crouching brother.

“Just peachy, cheers, George.”

“So, you’re just stalking Y/N for fun then, yeah?”

Fred glared up at his brother, sighing and standing up under his expectant stare.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Fred said far too quickly. He cursed his defensiveness and groaned. Instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t have told anyone; you said it was a mistake, he reminded himself, earning a familiar sinking feeling at the memory. And so, he’d avoided mentioning it to anyone either, even George, who was now staring at him with a very suspicious scowl.

“Fine,” Fred huffed, rubbing his face with his hands. “At Ginny’s wedding we uh- we-“

Well, he didn’t really remember, did he? He knew on a base level what must’ve happened, but you’d both been so pissed and-

“You shagged.”

“How the bloody hell do you know that?”

George’s laughter only served to further Fred’s indignance. “You two disappeared at midnight, fawning over each other like lovesick teenagers… it doesn’t take a lot to connect those dots, Freddie.”

Fred’s expression soured. “So, everybody knows, then.”

“Afraid so. Mum’s chuffed, obviously, thinks it means you’ll finally get together. With you pair, it was inevitable, though. Especially with that industrial-strength Romanian firewhiskey Charlie smuggled in.”

Fred groaned at the memory, gripped the shelf in front of him so hard his knuckles turned white.

“It’s ruined everything, George. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

George laughed again.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

“You’ve both been mad for each other since fourth year and you think a quick screw is gonna change that? We’ve been placing bets on you for years.”

“You what?”

“You’re so bloody oblivious, the pair of you, honestly.”

“I don’t-“ Fred huffed, immediately dismissing the idea that you would fancy him in any way. There was no chance. “I don’t understand.”

George, helpful as ever, just shook his head, chuckling as Fred rested his forehead on his hands. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but when someone cleared their throat next to him, he sighed.

“George, I’m-“

He stopped short when he saw you, with your arms cross and eyebrows raised. You were clearly unhappy with him. It was hard for him to care though when his words caught in his throat at the sight of you.

“You’re not George.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I’m not-“

“Fred.”

“I am Fred, actually.”

Your vaguely threatening expression made him rethink his approach.

“I’m not spying on you,” he insisted, throwing his hands up. “I’m just watching… closely.”

You rolled your eyes. As you looked at him properly for the first time since the incident, a strange feeling stirred in your chest. He was the same Fred he had been before; the same handsome features and the same five-steps-ahead ingenuity behind his eyes, but somehow it was all different. A very bad different. You sighed, turning to go back to your restocking when his hand caught your wrist. You frowned, your eyes trailing from his hand to his face, studying his almost surprised expression.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said, his eyes oddly sincere. You swallowed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes-“

“I’ll say-“

“Can you not just listen to me?”

“Not when you’re acting so strange!”

“I’m acting strange? You’re the one that’s barely said a bloody word to me since we-“

“Fred!”

“Oh, give off,” he huffed, finally letting go of your arm. “George already knows.”

“You told him?”

“The whole family knows! Apparently, love, we aren’t as subtle as we think.”

You groaned, leaning back against the cash register and sliding down it until you hit the floor, rocking your head back against the wood.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, pausing a moment before sitting next to you, your shoulders almost touching. You rubbed your eyes with your hands, thinking about Ginny’s reaction when she found out. It was a surprise she didn’t hate you already.

“It’s not the same for you, Fred. This is your family, it’s fine for you. But I’m just this girl that’s friends with your sister and probably should’ve been fired ages ago and they probably think I’m a right slag-“

He barked a laugh, his head tipping back and smacking against the register loudly. Had you not have found his consequent pout annoyingly adorable; you probably would’ve been able to keep your frustrated tone without a smile tugging at your lips.

“What is so funny about that?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t need to be worried about that, do you? You’ve always been a slag,” he said, laughing at your offended expression as you smacked his arm, unable to contain your own laughter.

“You’re such a cheeky git.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you were never just some girl. You’ve been a part of this family since you were fourteen.”

You didn’t say anything at that, not even when you felt his eyes carefully inspecting your side profile.

“And it wasn’t a mistake for me,” he said, softer this time. “It’s actually been a very long time coming.”

You sighed, drawing your knees up to your chest and biting your lip.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

It wasn’t until his knee hit against yours that you mustered up the courage to look at him, floored slightly by the sheer amount of emotion in his eyes.

“So, what now?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow. It felt foreign to be so vulnerable with Fred, but you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Well,” he said, pulling back his sleeve to look at the time. “We’ve got about twenty minutes till we open and an empty cupboard about,” he squinted. “Thirty feet away.”

You wanted to be mad at him; that was always your go-to emotion with Fred, but as you watched him grin with his bright eyes and his tongue between his teeth, all you felt was a familiar fondness for this stupid, obnoxious, annoying man. And even as you stood up and let him pull you to the broom closet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about that either.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@ickle-ronniekins​ 

@harrysweasleys​ 

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

[spencereliotwinchester]

Red Stud (Part 1/3)

Title: Red Stud

Author:  Kat

Reader Gender:  N/A

Word Count: 8700

Summary: A look at how Jensen met Misha and began their journey. Partner to Submissive but can be read by itself. 

Warnings: AU, Sub!Jensen, Dom!Misha, Humiliation!Kink, 

A/N:  Seriously, not for the faint of heart. No hate. Inspiration belongs to @impala-dreamer

Thank you to @deansbxtch for being my beta

Character: Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins

--

Tags: 

@dr-dean @drarina1737 @zombitch-cas @teamfreewill92 @winecatsandpizza @bees0are0awesome @sierra-grace1227 @chenshemesh1 @weepinghollywoodatsupernatural @im-in-every-fandom-fangirl @rosescarlett @pandazombie69

--

“What are you doing this weekend, Jensen?” Jared asked as they walked to their ten a.m. biology class. 

“Nothing. Maybe doing that ‘American Ideals’ paper for the capstone class,” Jensen responded, heaving his backpack into a more comfortable position. “Why did we take half our classes on Friday?” 

“To have Mondays and Tuesdays off,” Jared laughed. “Anyway, there’s a rave happening at this club I know of. Wanna go?” 

“A rave? Like, an actual rave, not a house party?” 

“Yeah! They have strippers until Midnight, then it turns into a Rave. It goes until the morning I’ve heard. They also have some BDSM rooms, supposedly, but you have to be a member to go in there.”

“What’s the cover?” Jensen asked. 

“Fifty,” Jared said. 

“That’s cheap for Vegas.”

“That’s the whole point! Anyway, what do you think?” 

“As long as you don’t kidnap me into a BDSM room, I’m fine,” Jensen joked. 

“Ugh,” Jensen groaned. The taste in his mouth made his stomach turn over. It was like something had crawled in there and died. He sat up, careful to extract himself from the unknown man in his bed. His ass still had a dull throb from the previous night. 

Slowly getting out of his bed, careful not to wake up his partner from last night, Jensen made his way to the bathroom of the apartment he shared with Jared. He could hear the sounds of throwing up from inside. 

“Jare, I’m coming in to brush my teeth!” He hollered, opening the door. 

Jared wasn’t the one in the bathroom. A brunette was heaving over the toilet. 

“Oh, shit, sorry!” He said. She looked over at him. 

“You’re naked,” She stated. 

“Sorry,” he said again, and shut the door. 

The door to the apartment opened and Jared came down the hall with a drink holder of coffee. He handed one coffee to Jensen, who took it with a word of thanks and took a drink. 

“Still throwing up?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen responded. “I’m gonna go put on pants.” 

As he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, the man still in Jensen’s bed stretched and then sat up. Jensen handed him his coffee. The man took a deep drink and handed it back. 

“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching again. “What a party, eh?”

“Wild,” Jensen agreed. The man’s deep voice and electric blue eyes brought a memory of last night to Jensen’s mind. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’ll bet that’s all you want, filthy slut!”

“Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”

“Oh, fuck, it’s nearly three!” 

He stood up and quickly dressed, gathering the pieces of clothing that had been tossed into various parts of the room. 

“Got any cologne I can borrow?” He asked. 

“Yeah, on the dresser,” Jensen responded, watching the man get dressed. When the man came up to him, Jensen realized he was nearly as tall as he was, with dark, disheveled hair, and those electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. 

“Thanks for last night,” He whispered, Jensen smirked and they kissed.

“See ya around,” Jensen said when they broke apart, though he knew he wouldn’t. 

“That party was insane,” Jared said as they sat down on the couch in the small living room. 

“I don’t remember much,” Jensen grunted.

“You’ll get some pieces back like usual.” 

“Did we… Take anything?” He asked. 

“Besides a shit load of alcohol? I don’t think so,” Jared responded absently, scrolling on his phone. “Why?” 

“Just wondering.”

“We gotta do that again,” Jared sighed, happily. 

“I won’t,” a female voice said. The girl had come around the corner, purse in her hand. “Sorry for spewing my guts out.” 

“You okay?��� Jared asked. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna go,” She turned to Jensen. “You should get on a pole more often.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You don’t remember?” She asked, then continued. “You got up on stage and swung yourself around the pole like you’d been doing it for years.” 

“I did what?” He asked, incredulous. Jared snickered. 

“It was pretty awesome,” Jared muttered.

“Shut the hell up!”

A few days later, he got a text from an unknown number. He was studying in the library. 

I can’t stop thinking about you stretched around my cock, those green eyes rolling up into your head.

He looked around, worried, but no one was nearby. 

Who is this? 

It could be any of his one night stands from the last few weeks.

I’m offended, we had such a good time the other night! - Sir M

It must be that blue eyed man he met at Frenzy. What did he say his name was? It had been something strange. Another message came through. 

You were such a good slut for me. I’d love to have you for myself. - Sir M

Jensen blushed to himself. He didn’t usually sleep with the same person twice. He thought briefly about making an exception. It had been an amazing night. Most of the pieces of the night had come back. The blue eyed stranger had dominated over him, easily taking complete control of their time together. Jensen had thoroughly enjoyed it. As the memories floated to the forefront of his mind, Jensen could feel that his cock was hardening. Another message. 

I’ll bet you’re so hot and bothered right now, thinking about the way I owned you. - Sir M

Jensen finally texted back.

Yes, Sir.  

It became tradition, each month Jensen and Jared would go to a Rave night at Frenzy. They would stay until the place shut down at 5 a.m. and then crash until late afternoon. Sometimes they brought dates home, sometimes not. Sir M and Jensen continued to message each other. Sir M could be very domineering, even over a simple text and it sent thrills of excitement through Jensen’s body.

About a week after his one night stand with Sir M, Jensen walked into the studio shyly, it was his first time here. He’d been curious about pole dancing ever since that girl had told him how well he’d done. 

“Shoes off please!” The teacher, Jaz, behind the desk said sharply. “No outside shoes on the studio floor. Please sign this waiver and set your yoga mat down next to one of the poles.” 

Jensen ended up loving pole dancing, going to class three times a week in between his college classes and working a part time job. One day after class, about six months later, Jaz called his name as he was walking out the door. 

“Yeah?” He said, walking over to her, his bag slung over his shoulder and a yoga mat in his hands. 

“You’re still pretty new, but I know you like to go to Frenzy every so often. They get a lot of their talent from this studio and they’re holding closed auditions for a new male act. I was wondering if you wanted to audition? You’re one of my only male students and I think I have just the song for you.” 

Jensen stood there for a moment, his mouth hanging open. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said eventually, “I mainly do this for fun-”

“Strippers there, especially males, make upwards of $500 a night.” 

That was more than Jensen was making now, way more. He thought for a few moments, then relented. 

“Let me know what to do.” 

Three Saturdays in a row, he practiced one on one for three hours with Jaz. On the fourth Saturday, they ran through the entire routine twice. Jensen was sore, tired, and out of breath. 

“You’re ready,” Jaz said excitedly. “I think you’ll take the job easy.” 

“You… Sure?” Jensen said between gulps of air. 

“I’m damn sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon!” She gave Jensen a quick hug and began to ready the studio for her next class. “Make sure you drink plenty of water-”

“And eat plenty of protein,” Jensen finished, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I know.” 

That afternoon, Jensen arrived outside Frenzy at 1:30. Auditions started at 2. He showed his paperwork to the bouncer at the door and was let in. The place was a little unnerving when it was mostly empty and the lights were all on. He made his way towards the Rave Hall and saw a check-in table. He walked up to the two women. One looked up as he approached.

“Here for an interview for the bouncer positions?” She asked. 

“Uh.. no,” he said, caught slightly off guard. “I have an audition for pole dancing.” 

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Sorry! Um, name?” 

“Ackles,” He said. 

“Got it. Locker rooms are that way,” She pointed. “Follow the signs. They’re still doing female auditions, so they may be running slightly late. Do you have a song?” 

“Yeah,” he handed over a CD with his name and audition number on it, then made his way to the locker rooms. 

As he got dressed, his nerves started to send butterflies to his stomach. He pulled on a pair of tight black cycling shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He had decided to go barefoot for this audition. From the information he had received, there would be a panel of judges and they would ask him a few questions before he danced. Jensen noticed as he waited for his name to be called that most people were doing slow and sensual songs, sometimes even emo. This made him slightly more nervous since Jaz had chosen a fast song for him. 

“Next up is Ackles! Ackles to the stage!” 

Jensen took a deep breath and then stepped out of the curtain onto the stage. He stood next to the pole and blanched slightly. It seemed like most of the auditioners were staying in the room after they’d auditioned to see the rest of the performers. Jensen only saw three other men in the audience. Then he looked at the panel of judges. Two men and a woman sat there. 

The man in the middle had electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. Electric blue eyes that Jensen recognized. Sir M. It knocked the breath clean out of him. 

“You used your real name?” The bearded man asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s your stage name?” 

“I..I don’t have one,” Jensen stuttered, shrugging. 

“Oh boy,” he said in annoyance. “Any tattoo-”

“Red Stud,” the blue eyed man interrupted. 

“What?” the bearded man snapped. “Collins, are you in-”

“No, I’m just giving him a stage name. Red hair and just look at those muscles! Yummy.” 

“Red Stud, I guess it works,” The man turned back to Jensen. “Tattoos?” 

“N-No,” Jensen sputtered, he started to think this had been a mistake. He grabbed the pole, noticing it was on spin. He could do the routine either way, but doing it on spin was harder. 

“Why do you want this job?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time. 

“I love to dance,” Jensen said smoothly, he was aware his voice had become more even and slightly huskier. “I can dance, and I want to make money doing what I love.” 

“Well, I think we’d love to see!” Sir M clapped his hands together. “Go on.”  

I saw him dancin' there by the record machine

I knew he must a been about seventeen

The beat was goin' strong

Playin' my favorite song

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'

As soon as the music started,  Jensen felt right at home. As if he were back in the studio practicing with Jaz. The loud guitar strums and drum set blasted through the speakers and Jensen opened “I Love Rock N’ Roll” by flexing his biceps, rolling his hips, and showing off his muscles, visible even under the t-shirt, to the various parts of the room. People started clapping along with the beat. When the lyrics started, he climbed the pole to the top, stopping at the end of each line to do various hangs to show off his strength, flowing with the hard rock. 

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Once he reached the top of the pole, the chorus started and Jensen folded over and around the pole, holding an attitude position before quickly hip-switching to a sundial. He pulled up and inverted into a Fang, spinning quickly with the music before doing a cartwheel dismount. 

He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name

"That don't matter", he said, "'cause it's all the same"

I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"

And next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me

Next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me singin'

He pole walked once, before unveiling his next climb. Jaz had spent the majority of their first session teaching him this complex no legs, hand-over-hand climb until Jensen could do it perfectly without falling. Jensen was surprised to hear cheers. He climbed, doing a pull up at the end of each line of music until he was at the top of the pole again. He quickly maneuvered into a cross-legged sit so his arms were free.

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Jensen tore his shirt in half splitting it down his chest, then took it off and flung it at the blue eyed judge. He then inverted into a crucifix and nose dived down the pole. Jensen gracefully dismounted as the music faded. He took a bow to the cheering audience before turning his attention towards the judges. Jensen became all too aware of the sheen of sweat covering his face and chest and felt his cheeks reddening - it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just done and everything to do with Sir M staring at him. 

“I...I thought Jaz said you were new to pole dancing,” the woman said in awe. 

“I mean, I’ve only been pole dancing for about six months,” Jensen responded, shrugging. “Should I go?” 

“Can you dance like that tonight?” Sir M asked, his voice deep and vibrating. 

“I- What?” 

“Can. You. Dance. Like that. Tonight?” He asked again, more slowly, like Jensen was hard of hearing. 

“I’d need a new black t-shirt… but yeah, I can,” Jensen felt even more blood rushing to his face. 

“Then the job is yours. You’re on at midnight,” the bearded man said. “Be here no later than 11.”

As he was walking out, he heard his name called. Turning, he was shocked to see Jared. 

“Since when do you dance?” 

“Six months or so,” Jensen said, looking away from Jared. 

“Dude, you’re insanely good!”

“Uh...Thanks. Why are you here?” 

“Got hired as a bouncer!” He said excitedly. 

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Jensen exclaimed. “I gotta go call Jazzy and tell her I got the dance slot and then get ready for tonight.” 

“I’ll see you tonight! It’s my first night too.” 

Jensen was able to meet most of the other dancers that night in the locker room. It turned out that there were only three other male dancers, so everyone shared one locker room. A girl came up to Jensen. She was dressed in a red thong and red corset. She had blonde hair that was curled in large spirals. He recognized her as the female judge from earlier. 

“Hi, Red,” She said, smacking some gum and winking at him. 

“Hey,” He nodded. 

“Come on, I’m gonna show you the ropes and rules. I’m Cherie by the way. So, tonight. They’re just going to have you open the Rave with your routine, but people will still throw tips at you. Each of us also has a jar at the bar where people can place tips, too. Don’t forget to empty it before you leave for the night. If you have any problems with patrons on the floor, grab one of the bouncers. After a couple weeks, you might do some dancing for tips, or they might have you out on the floor to do lap dances and such. I dunno, Mish will let you know.” 

“‘Mish?’” Jensen asked. 

“Misha Collins?” She looked at him incredulously. “Big blue eyes, stubbled jaw, orgasm inducing voice?” 

“Oh, him.” 

“Yeah, him. Let's get some makeup on you.”

Jensen fidgeted as midnight approached. His butterflies were even bigger now and he worried he’d mess up the entire routine. As the acts neared his, the music got faster. Cherie was just before him in the lineup, her song started, ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. Jensen warmed his body and put grip aid on his hands. Cherie came through the curtain. She had removed the corset during her act and was down to her red thong and pasties. 

“Good luck, Red,” She winked at him. 

He swallowed hard and entered the stage through the curtain. A few whistles met him. 

“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer. His debut performance right here, right now! RED STUD!” the emcee announced. 

‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ started and Jensen began his routine. He only slipped once and it was barely noticeable. Cheers and applause met him and he bowed. Then, he quickly picked up the cash tips that had been tossed onstage and exited. He’d made nearly $250 from tips he’d picked up off the stage.

Jensen made his way to the bar after he put on another black shirt from his locker. The lights shut off completely and black light turned on. Glow sticks lit up the room. A thumping bass beat blared through the speaker. Jensen sat down at the bar in an open seat and waited for the bartender to see him. The bartender came over to him. 

“What can I get ya?” He yelled over the thick bass beat. 

“Shot of whiskey!” He yelled back. As he went to hand over a ten, a hand caught him. Jensen turned to see Misha standing right next to him. He was wearing a red t-shirt that was a size too small and stretched dangerously over his shoulders. Up close, Jensen was able to see just how handsome the man- Misha- really was. 

“On the house!” He yelled to the bartender. “And make it two!” 

Jensen and Misha tapped glasses and took the shots together. After four more shots each, Jensen was feeling much more free and relaxed. Misha tapped his hand against his shoulder. 

“Come with me!” He yelled. 

Misha dragged Jensen into the Rave and they began to dance together. After the second song they were both drenched in sweat and the alcohol was really hitting Jensen’s head. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours. Misha raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Then raised his hand to his mouth again. This time he grabbed Jensen’s face and began kissing him. Jensen opened his mouth in surprise and Misha shoved his tongue in and Jensen felt a small pill. Guessing what it was, he swallowed and continued to make out with Misha. 

Within ten minutes, the drug was taking effect. Jensen began to feel remarkably loose, happy and floaty. Misha was grinding against his ass and Jensen didn’t mind one bit. The music thrummed heavily through his head, his heart speeding up to match the rapid music. The bass beat dropped and Misha was reaching around palming Jensen’s half hard cock through the shorts he was wearing. His moan was lost in the music as he leaned back into Misha’s solid body. 

Then, Misha was pulling him along, through the waves of people. They reached a door on the other side and Misha pushed him through it. They were in a back hallway and Misha pushed Jensen into another room. The lights flicked on. Noise was completely silenced when the door closed but Jensen’s head pounded with the remnants of the bass line. 

“Should we be in here?” Jensen asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the room. It was a smaller room, but it was beautiful and dangerous. The walls were red, the carpet was plush and black. A few sex toys were scattered around and Jensen could only imagine what was in the armoire at the other side of the room. There was also a double bed in the corner behind the door. 

“It’s my private room,” Misha said. 

“A private room?” 

Misha came up behind him and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Misha grabbed the hem of Jensen’s shirt and dragged it over his head before going back to kissing his neck. Jensen moaned lightly. 

“Owning the place does have its perks,” Misha growled, his voice low and lust-filled. 

Jensen turned to face Misha and pulled the other man’s shirt off. Misha pulled Jensen over to the bed and pushed him down on it. As Misha kicked his jeans off and leaned down on top of Jensen, something clicked into place. 

“Are you a Dom?” Jensen asked. 

“You could most certainly say that,” Misha laughed. 

“I’ve never really… Except that night with you and I don’t remember everything.” 

“Well, it’s up to you, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you stay, Boy,” the voice slipped down a few notes and Misha reached a hand into Jensen’s hair and pulled lightly. A rush of pleasure flowed through his body. Jensen moaned. “What are your limits?” 

“Nothing too crazy, I’m, uh, pretty vanilla you could say.” 

“Vanilla it is, but next time we do things my way,” Misha smirked before kissing Jensen again. Blood rushed to his face and his cock, making his brain spin. He laughed into Misha’s mouth, the feeling of euphoria enveloping him again. 

--

As Jensen began to swim into consciousness, he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his ass hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the deserts surrounding Las Vegas. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had no idea where he was. The room was lit softly through thick curtains. The walls were a cool grey and matched the bedding. An unopened water bottle was sitting on the nightstand and Jensen grabbed it, cracking it open and taking a deep drink. 

“I was thinking I was going to have to come wake you up. It’s nearly five,” Misha’s voice startled Jensen, and he looked around to see Misha standing in the doorway. 

“I’d have been up at three if you hadn’t slipped me Ecstasy,” Jensen grumbled. “Where are my clothes?” 

Misha walked over to the closet and stepped inside. He threw a shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed. 

“You only had on those pole shorts when we came home,” Misha answered. “Take those. They should fit okay.” 

Jensen got out of bed and stumbled sideways. Misha caught him. He became suddenly dizzy and shut his eyes trying to clear the feeling before it made him hurl. 

“You okay?” Misha asked. 

“Just a bit dizzy… Stood up too fast,” Jensen grunted. He slowly put weight back on his legs and got dressed in Misha’s clothes. They smelled like leather and cologne. An image of Misha pushing his cock into Jensen’s mouth came to mind. 

“We should get some food in you,” Misha said. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” 

“Sure,” Jensen said, his stomach snarling at the thought. 

--

“Everything okay?” Misha asked. 

“When you said ‘have dinner’ I thought you meant a dive bar or a diner or something…”

“Oh no, Sweetness, when I dine, I dine in style.” 

“I’m not really appropriate-” Misha cut him off. 

“Nonsense. Come on.” 

The maitre’d greeted Misha by name and led them all the way to the back of the restaurant to a private booth. A waitress dropped off water, smiling at them before gliding away to the kitchen. Jensen fiddled with the menu, slightly uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Misha asked in his low, gravelly voice. 

“Just nervous,” Jensen mumbled. 

“Listen, about last night-” It was Jensen’s turn to cut off Misha. 

“I don’t regret anything.”

“Well… Good, then,” Misha said. “Are you good to go on tonight?” 

“Of course,” Jensen waved a hand at Misha.

The waitress arrived with an appetizer. 

“The usual, Sir?” She asked Misha. He nodded, then the waitress turned to Jensen, but Misha interjected. 

“Let me order for you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jensen, shocked, nodded at him jerkily. Misha whispered into the waitresses ear and she gave him a nod before vanishing again. He turned back to Jensen, and put a hand on his scruffy face. Jensen suddenly had butterflies in his stomach again. 

“So what are you into?” Jensen blurted out the question. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, like you have a private room at Frenzy- Hell, you OWN Frenzy. You’re a Dom, you asked my limits…” Jensen trailed off. 

“I’m into things you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, darkly. Jensen shivered. It was strange, the way Misha could make him feel both scared and aroused at the same time. “But for the most part I’m into Dom/sub.”

“Like, whips and chains and ‘Master’?” Misha chuckled at the look on Jensen’s face.

“I’m more into the relationship, the power exchange, not the punishments, and I prefer to be called ‘Sir,’” He responded. “You know nothing of BDSM if you’ve just watched porn.” 

Misha began explaining the mechanics and the true BDSM scene. Jensen became much more interested, and aroused, as Misha explained the true relationship between Dominants and their submissives. He never figured this sort of scene would be up his alley, but the way Misha had made Jensen beg for release last night… 

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Misha stated. “Eat.”

Jensen did so. Misha smirked at him, his eyes were filled with lust and approval. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You absentmindedly enjoy being told what to do. I just had a very intriguing thought,” Misha said in a hushed voice. 

“What?” Jensen was even more confused. 

“Let me introduce you to being submissive. I think we’d be a good match. We like each other and damn you’re just yummy. I can’t get enough of you.” 

Jensen looked down at his mostly empty plate, his mind was hesitant, but his cock was thoroughly interested in the idea of having sex with Misha again. 

“Try it,” Misha pressed. “If you don’t like it, no harm no foul… But I think you’ll fall in love with it.” 

“Fine,” Jensen relented, telling himself he could try something new. “We should get going. I need to go home and shower. I also need to work out a little. I missed my afternoon class today.” 

“Want a ride home?” Misha asked. 

“That would be welcome,” Jensen whispered.

Jensen finally got back to Frenzy at ten pm. He opened his locker and saw a jar of tips. The jar from the bar. Jensen groaned, knowing he would probably be in trouble with the bartender for forgetting to pick them up. He then pulled his phone out of his locker to check it. He had a message from Sir M. 

I need you to open and close the dance acts next weekend. Open with a slow, sensual song for me? Then close with your regular routine. Next week you work Wednesday thru Sunday. W & Th & Sun 7p - 3a.m. Fr & Sat 7pm - 12:15 am, then you’ll join me in the Member’s Club -Sir M

He immediately texted Jazzy to find out if she could help him with a new routine. 

We can practice this week, I’ve got a good one for you. I’m here btw! To see you perform. 

That week was one of the hardest of his life. He even skipped a few classes at the college trying to get some rest between the club, school, practicing a completely new song, and texting Misha. He barely even saw Jared except at Frenzy. 

Friday evening came and Jensen was a ball of wrecked nerves. He was exhausted, but got a jolt of excitement at the thought of performing a slow song just for Misha. The emcee was beginning to announce the acts and Jensen’s whole body buzzed with nervous excitement. 

“Let’s open up with Red Stud!” The emcee yelled. 

Jensen took the stage and a few whistles broke out above the chattering crowd. He sat down in front of the pole, back pressed against it and nodded toward the emcee. “You’re the Best” by Wet played through the speakers as Jensen began to go through the choreography Jazzy taught him. It was slow and sensual, just what Misha had asked for. Most of the choreo had him on the floor, using the pole as just a prop, instead of being on it the entire time. He ended the song on the floor, in a shoulder mount with his legs split. People clapped, cheered, and whistled. Jensen collected the money on the stage and went back to the locker room, to rest and get ready for the closing act. 

After the closing act, Jensen got a t-shirt on and went out into the now Rave Room. As he approached the bar, he saw Misha talking to a few patrons. One girl was draped over his shoulder and a hotness spread through Jensen’s body. Jealousy. They had never said they’d be exclusive, Jensen reasoned, but he still wanted to toss the girl into what was now becoming a mosh pit. 

He grabbed a couple shots from the bartender, downing one right after the other. His eyes were trained on Misha at the other end of the bar, the jealousy burning through his veins, just like the whiskey he’d shot down. He finally shoved himself from the bar, deciding he could play the same game. He disappeared into the rave to find a partner for the evening. 

As he was grinding with a stranger, he felt a hand fist the back of his shirt and yanked him back. Jensen was shocked, he looked around and saw Misha was the one who had his shirt. He was surprised at the roughness and then saw the look on Misha’s face. 

His jaw was clenched and eyes were narrowed in anger. There was fury written into his face. He caught Misha’s eye for just a moment and saw only rage in the flashing blue. Misha shoved him through the same door as last weekend and into his private room. 

“Think you’re funny?!” Misha spat as all other sound was drowned out. Jensen opened his mouth but a single flash of Misha’s eyes and his voice died in his throat. “Grinding on some stranger right in front of ME? You’re mine!” 

Something strange happened at Misha’s words. He was slightly scared, very much confused and then a shooting feeling of arousal coiled through his belly. Jensen found his voice. 

“You had women all over you at the bar! We never said we were exclusive,” He strained his voice to keep it level. 

“I wasn’t the one out on the dance floor practically having sex!” 

“You were last weekend!” Jensen cried, aware that his words were making less sense. 

“You’re MINE, Boy!” Misha barked. The arousal came back, harder and stronger than before. 

“Promise?” Jensen breathed. 

Anger melted from Misha’s face. He looked confused, then a grin broke across his face. 

“What?” Jensen snapped, but the anger was melting completely and being taken over by desire. 

“You liked it.” 

“Liked what?” 

“Being called names. When I called you ‘boy’ I saw your cock jump in those tight shorts. You like being humiliated,” Misha looked at him fondly. “I’ll tuck away that information for later.”

They ended the night a lot happier than it had started, the fight completely forgotten, like the clothes all over the floor. 

--

Jensen was sitting at Misha’s kitchen table. A laptop, books, notebooks and folders were spread out around him. Jensen had his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He’d spent the better part of three hours trying to write a paper for his english class. What does each room color symbolize in Mask of the Red Death? Discuss. Jensen then thought of the two ten-page papers due at the end of the semester. A Topic of Your Choosing Using Compare and Contrasting Methods and How are American Ideals Still Relevant in Today’s Day and Age? 

He groaned and lifted his head up. He found Misha standing against the counter to his right. Misha was wearing a suit, crisply ironed, with a khaki top coat over it. From the looks of it, Jensen figured it was probably cashmere. 

“Looks like a tornado came through,” He indicated the mess on the table. 

“More like a typhoon. I’m drowning in this.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about some things, but it can wait if you’re too busy.”

“Please, I could use a break from this.” 

“Now that we’re going to delve into this relationship, I want to lay out a couple rules for you to follow,” Misha sat down at the table and looked at Jensen seriously. Jensen nodded. “Number One, you call me ‘Sir.’ Number Two, you don’t cum unless I say so. Number Three, do not lie to me, EVER. And Number Four, is this.”

He took a small, leather-bound book from the inside of his topcoat and set it in front of Jensen. Upon further inspection, it was a journal with lined pages. Jensen cocked an eyebrow at Misha. 

“I want you to keep a journal. At least one page per day, more if you feel like it. On the first page,” Misha flipped the book open, “I’ve written some prompts I’d like you to start off writing about, so we can hone and mold our relationship together.” 

“So, I’m drowning in homework… And you give me more?” Jensen said, indicating the haphazard papers that littered the table. 

“I guess so, yeah. Got a problem with that, Boy?” Misha’s voice dipped into a commanding voice. 

“No,” Jensen responded. 

“No, what?” Misha’s voice dripped with venom.

“Uh, no, Sir,” Jensen looked down at the table. 

“Failure to follow my rules will result in punishment, and trust me, punishment does not equal pleasure.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen said, nodding his understanding. 

“That’s my good slut,” Misha said, patting his hair. Misha and Jensen had found out fairly quickly that the pet name turned Jensen on to no end and Jensen felt a swell of happiness each time Misha used it. “I have a meeting. Be good.” 

As Misha left, Jensen looked at the table. He rolled his eyes in frustration and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the first page, he saw Misha’s handwriting. It was slanted, neat, almost calligraphy

What are your likes and dislikes in the bedroom? Discuss. 

How are you currently feeling about our relationship? Write this subject weekly

What do you want from a sexual partner?

What do you need from a sexual partner?

There was a hard line penned into the page

Only Jensen may write, unless he gives permission for me to respond. 

This is Jensen’s safe space to write what he needs.

Jensen will never be judged for what is written. 

Jensen looked between the journal and the three college papers he was working on. He groaned and pulled the laptop towards himself, deciding to write a little more about Mask of the Red Death before trying to fill out his journal. 

The first room is blue, which symbolizes Poe’s own depression…

“You know, maybe he just liked the color blue!” Jensen yelled at the empty house. He tossed The Works of Edgar Allan Poe across the kitchen. 

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the relationship with Sir. I’ve barely met him but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. I’m nervous and scared, but also aroused…

Jensen felt extremely weird writing in the journal at first, but once he got the first few sentences out, a bunch more were written. He ended up with three pages. By the time Jensen finished his journal as well as the Poe paper, it was nearing 5 pm. Jensen stood and stretched. It was Monday, so he didn’t have work and he didn’t have class: college or pole. 

He felt like he hadn’t seen Jared in forever. At least, the last time he saw Jared outside of work or school. They never really had time to talk while busy studying and working. Jensen texted Jared. 

Where are you?

Video Games was the response. 

Jensen was getting ready to head over to his apartment when a thought struck him. He quickly texted Misha.

I’m going over to the apartment to hang with Jared. 

Home by 2am came only a few seconds later. Jensen set an alarm on his phone to go off at 1. 

Jensen had only been by the apartment a couple times in the last two weeks and that was only to grab some clothes, his toothbrush, and school things. Jared hadn’t been home. He was splayed across the couch, playing COD. Jensen grabbed a controller and joined the game. As they played, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of tension between them. After about half an hour, Jared shut the game off. 

“Drink?” Jared asked stiffly. 

“I’m gonna drive back to Misha’s later,” Jensen said. “Is something up?” 

Jared finished his own beer and grabbed another one from the fridge. He scoffed. 

“What?” Jensen pressed. 

“You know, dude,” said Jared, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to say. You get this job at Frenzy, end up in the back room WITH THE OWNER, and then disappear for three weeks. What the fuck, Man?” 

“It’s not like that-” Jensen started before Jared cut him off. 

“That’s how it looks from my angle! You’ve never been that kind of whore! Tell me, is it true? Are you Collins’ new bitch? I have never known you to sleep with a partner more than once, but now that it’s some rich dude...” 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Jensen tried to explain, but he realized Jared must have been drinking most of the day; he wasn’t usually this hurtful. “What?” Jensen was taken aback as he comprehended the last sentence. 

“That’s what I heard. That’s what everyone at Frenzy is talking about. You hopping in bed with the owner. Man, I knew you liked to sleep around but this...” 

“Jared, I’m sorry, dude. Let me explai-”

“Explain what? Just answer the question, Jensen!” Jared yelled. 

“We’re in a relationsh-” Jensen started to yell. 

“It’s been three weeks and you’re basically moved in with him! Do you know how worried I’ve been? I would’ve called the cops if I hadn’t seen you at Frenzy!” 

“I’m fine, Jared! What? Can’t bear me actually being happy?!” 

“You’re a goddamn idiot! You have no idea what this guy’s intentions are! Sure, we’ve all done one night stands, but this… This is a whole new level, even for you,” Jared had gotten right into Jensen’s face. Jensen didn’t back down. The hurt was pumping through his body and he stabbed Jared right where it hurt. 

“You’re the one who almost killed yourself over Gen leaving you!” Jensen shoved Jared hard. He didn’t react fast enough to the fist that connected to the side of his head. 

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jared snarled. 

Jensen had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes before the dizziness finally passed enough for him to drive to Misha’s...To home. When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the lamp on in Misha’s bedroom. He felt relief at the sight, not wanting to be alone after his fight with Jared. He let himself in the house and went down the hall to Misha’s room. He hesitated for a few seconds before knocking on the door. 

“Enter,” Came a distracted response. 

Misha was propped against the headboard, wearing only his boxers. He was reading Things Fall Apart by an author whose name Jensen couldn’t begin to pronounce. He felt that, in a way. That his life was falling apart around him. The room began to blur and shift and Jensen clenched his hands at his side. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. His head began to buzz loudly, like angry bees. 

“Jensen?” 

The room began to come back into focus, but then thoughts of the night and the last month of his life overwhelmed him and the room spun wildly, his heart raced, and tears fell from his eyes. Misha was at his side, steadying him. 

“I need. My medicine,” Jensen was almost hyperventilating. “In my bag.”

Jensen curled up on the floor, holding himself until Misha came back with a prescription bottle. He popped it open and handed Jensen one pill. When shaking hands, Jensen put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. It would take about ten minutes for the effect to settle in and calm him down. With arms stronger than Jensen imagined, Misha scooped him up and set him down in the large bed. 

“Shh, just breathe,” Misha soothed. 

As time passed, Jensen felt his heartbeat begin to slow and his breathing evened out. He became aware of Misha holding him with one arm, the other carding through his hair. The feeling was soothing, comforting. When he felt he could, Jensen sat up and faced Misha. 

“Panic attack?” 

Jensen nodded. 

“That may have been something you should have told me about.” 

“I haven’t had one for two years,” Jensen whispered. 

“Did it have something to do with the bruise that’s darkening on your face?” 

“I had a fight with Jared,” He explained. 

“Obviously. What about?” 

“This. Us,” Jensen said, apologetically. “I should go lay down. The medicine makes me insanely tired.”

“Stay. I want to keep my eye on you.”

Jensen hadn’t stayed the night in Misha’s bed since their second night together. Jensen felt a swoop of anxiety, but then Misha brought a hand to his face, and it melted away. He leaned into Misha’s touch. 

After a moment, Misha got out of bed and beckoned Jensen to do the same. He set the book carefully on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. He indicated to Jensen to get into bed, then slid in after him. 

“Why do you have panic attacks?” Misha asked. 

“When I was little, and my Mom and Dad were still together, they fought, like, all the time. Downright screaming matches. Their fighting started causing panic attacks. So, now whenever there’s arguing it can cause an attack.”

“I guess the fight just really affected me. I shouldn’t have said some things,” Jensen sighed deeply. 

“We’ll have to be careful. Everything will be okay,” Misha soothed.

The light clicked off and Misha spooned Jensen, his arm wrapped around his waist comforting him. Jensen pushed himself back into Misha’s chest and within minutes, the exhaustion from the day as well as the medicine pulled him into sleep. 

Jensen woke the next morning, groggy and feeling like his head was too heavy to lift. He was alone in Misha’s bed. Slowly, he sat up. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand on top of the book that Misha had been reading. He grabbed it. 

I will be in my office when you wake, taking care of some work. Eat some eggs and toast and meet me when you’re through. -Sir

Jensen went to the guest room he’d been calling his own. He slipped into the bathroom attached and did his morning routine. He then made his way to the kitchen, wishing he knew where Misha kept the Tylenol. 

As Jensen ate breakfast, he scrolled through his phone lazily. The group chat he was in with the other guys and girls had blown up the previous night. Jensen scrolled through quickly, getting the gist of what had been discussed. He paused, however, when the chat shifted.

Cherie: It’s almost Mish’s Birthday y’all. What are we doing this year? Another showcase? 

Brad: Maybe, he never gets tired of watching us dance. 

Ariel: What if we did a choreographed routine with all of us? We could do it on the weekend of his birthday.

Michelle: Ooo I like that. Unless @Red Stud has a better idea? 

Brad: That’s a good idea. Everyone meet at noon at Frenzy tomorrow. Come with song ideas. 

Cherie: Great idea! See everyone then?

Shit. It was almost eleven now. He quickly finished breakfast and packed a bag. Then he went to Misha’s office. Jensen knocked on the open door. 

“Enter,” Came a reply. 

Misha was sitting behind a large carved desk, looking through a stack of papers. He glanced up at Jensen. 

“Where are you off too?” Misha asked. 

“Uhh,” Jensen hesitated, not knowing if the birthday party was a surprise. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Misha reminded him suddenly, fixing him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to read his mind. 

“Okay, I’m meeting the other girls and guys at Frenzy-”

“Ah, yes. My birthday,” Misha rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this and ask you to fill it out. I’m filling one out, too. We will compare them and make necessary changes before signing.” 

Misha slid a thick packet towards Jensen. He walked to the desk and picked it up. Standard D/s Contract - Misha Collins was the title. Jensen felt his cheeks heat up. 

“Okay,” Jensen said, slipping the contract into his gym bag. 

“Okay what?” Misha snit.

“Sorry. Yes, Sir,” He amended. Jensen walked around the desk, so he was directly next to Misha, who had gone back to his report. He gave Misha a soft kiss on the cheek which he accepted. 

“Tell the girls and boys not to worry too much. I think I’ll be getting exactly what I want for my birthday already,” Misha threw him a quick, dirty look. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Be good, Slut.” 

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat pool in his belly. Then, he left to get to Frenzy. He seemed to be the first one there, surprisingly. He changed, then warmed himself up quickly. He walked out to the stage and placed his phone off to the side, hitting the “Play” Button on the song he wanted. The slow guitar started and Jensen began swaying his body to the music, body rolling on the pole, doing slow spins. 

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am young again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am fun again

“I think Red should do the choreography!” He heard the yell, it startled him and he lost grip on the pole, landing painfully on his elbow. 

“I have no idea how to do choreography,” Jensen said tersely, sitting up and rubbing his aching elbow. He looked around and saw Brad, Cherie, and Michelle, who seemed to be the one who’d yelled. 

“Yes, you do,” Cherie said. “I know you can. Just by watching that performance, I know you can.”

Everyone filtered in and then Cherie called for silence. 

“I think Red should do choreo,” Michelle said again. 

“All in favor?” Cherie asked. Everyone except Jensen yelled ‘Aye!’ 

Jensen groaned. 

“Now, what song should we do? Fast or slow?” 

“Slow,” Jensen said. “I’m a lot better at slow choreo. Jazzy’s the one who usually choreographs for me.” 

It took nearly an hour before they’d settled on a song. Jensen huffed, it wasn’t a very slow song, but he could work with it. 

“Give me a half hour to figure out what we’re doing,” He grumbled, grabbing a pad of paper from behind the bar. 

Jensen played Breathe on Me at least five times, stopping and starting and writing the choreography on the pad. He called Cherie over and went through it with her. That way she could teach group one and he could teach group two. After about two hours, Jensen called it quits for the day. 

After a long shower, Jensen settled down at the kitchen table to do his homework and try to go through the large contract Misha had given him that morning. He’d gotten his english paper done, his journal written in, and was just staring at the front page of the contract when Misha arrived. 

“Slut,” He greeted, flashing a smile his way. 

“Sir,” Jensen nodded at him, a smile spreading across his face. 

“I’ll be in my room. Have fun.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Jensen, in his limited free time, had been doing a lot of research into proper BDSM etiquette and rules. As Jensen read through the contract, filling in the blanks, he was all too aware of his cock hardening. He palmed himself as he went through the listed kinks and fetishes and circled ones he’d be willing to try. One line of the contract kept playing through his mind.

Above all, the primary duty of this submissive is to please.

Jensen grinned to himself. He had a sudden idea, and it sent warm heat through his body as his heart sped up. He hoped this would work, because if not, he’d be having a hard time following Misha’s rule not to cum without permission. 

He walked down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The door to Misha’s room was open and Jensen dropped to his knees just outside the threshold. He put his hands on his thighs and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He’d seen this pose on a website as one of the accepted sub poses. He itched to call out, call attention to himself, but he pushed the urge down, stubbornly. Jensen waited. 

A calmness washed over him. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, the thought of pleasing Misha helped him ignore the numbness in his knees. Finally, Jensen heard an intake of breath and the swish of sheets rubbing against pajama pants. Jensen kept still, unmoving. He fought the urge to snap his head up. To meet those blue eyes that could read his mind. 

“How long have you been here?” Jensen couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft, loving tone. Misha was right next to him. A hand rested on Jensen’s head. Jensen leaned slightly into the touch before remembering to keep his pose. Words were lost to him. 

“Speak,” Misha’s voice was still soft, but had an authoritative tone that Jensen couldn’t ignore. 

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. It could have been five minutes or three hours. The time had melted away, had become meaningless. 

“What do you need?” Misha asked. 

“To please you,” spilled from his mouth. 

“Good Slut.” 

A sense of pride swelled inside him and a jolt of arousal coursed through his cock. 

“Crawl in here and take your position,” Misha guided him to an open space in the bedroom. 

When Jensen had resumed his pose, he listened intently, trying to figure out where Misha was and what he was doing. Misha’s hand curled into his hair, lifting his head. Jensen struggled to keep his eyes closed, but his lips parted slightly as his breathing quickened. The soft, velvety head of Misha’s cock brushed lightly against his lips. A shiver went down his spine. Sure, he’d sucked guys off before, even Misha, but never like this. 

“Is this what you want?” Misha asked, his voice low and growly. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen whispered. 

PART 2