slick balls

iconic parts of lord of the rings that sadly didn’t make it into the films:
  • Frodo and Sam getting into a fight about rope
  • Gandalf and Aragorn tag-team sassing a convalescent Merry about the location of his pack
  • the massive intra-Fellowship fight about how fair or unfair it is for people to be blindfolded
  • Legolas coming all the way from Mirkwood to deliver bad news and get bitched at by Glóin
  • Bilbo’s passive-aggressive notes to his annoying relatives
  • Aragorn and Éomer leaning on their swords to take a break and chat in the middle of a fight (twice)
  • Saruman appearing out of nowhere and harassing the Three Hunters like a DND random encounter
  • the disco ball/oil slick/sequin robes
  • basically every time Ioreth or the Master of the Houses of Healing says anything
  • Pippin jumping into his bath and soaking literally everyone
  • Bilbo’s song about Eärendil and Aragorn trying to gently point out that some topics of conversation are Sensitive
  • Frodo deciding that the best way to be inconspicuous is with a loud obnoxious song about when the Moon got drunk

feel free to add your own

Good Princess

A/N: Oops I wrote a thing. Go easy on me, I’ve never written Lucifer but the second I got this ask I got flooded with ideas.

Pairing: Casifer x Reader

Warnings: Fingering, language, daddy!kink, smut, voyeurism if you count Cas seeing what’s happening from the inside, a um, a rough blowjob, hair pulling, light choking

Word Count: 1.3k

Originally posted by zeusisrad

Everybody out!” you shouted as you marched into your father’s, throne room, lair, dungeon – whatever he was calling it these days. The demons surrounding Lucifer jumping and scattering. You loved that affect you had on them.

“Y/N, how very nice to finally meet you.” Lucifer said as you walked up to him as he lounged in your father’s throne.

He was wearing Castiel. Which in all honestly, fit him like a glove. You looked to the side to see your father, Crowley on all fours, trapped in a hell hound’s cage, bound like a dog.

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A Night to Remember: Sasil AU

A/N: Hi! So this is my first Sasil fanfic. I’ve written a lot of Olitz fics, and some Richonne one shots and those fandoms led me to Outsiders. This fic is completely AU, set in a high school. I hope y'all like it.

Blackburg Kentucky, May 2015

Sally Ann bit her crimson bottom lip, looking unsurely at her matching fingernails, splayed on her bare knees, her wrists shrouded in the black ruffles of her dress’s cupcake skirt. She got up and went to the living room’s full-length mirror to again examine herself. A sliver of cleavage, cleavage she hadn’t had before G'win dragged her to Victoria’s Secret to buy a “bombshell” bra to go under her dress, peeked out of the dress’s sequined bodice. She looked down at her waxed legs, marveling at the soft glow coconut oil gave them, and her black pumps, outfitted with ankle straps that made her feel ladylike.

“You can stop looking. If you get any prettier, I’ll keep you home,” Naomi, the elderly woman who had essentially adopted Sally Ann when James’s drinking spun out of control, said as she stood in the doorway.

Sally Ann blushed as she turned to face her. “I just… It’s prom night. I want it to be perfect.”

“Y'all could wind up at McDonald’s and Hasil wouldn’t mind. You’ve been leading that boy around by the nose since fall.”

Again, Sally Ann blushed. “You know what I mean.”

“I know. It’s why I didn’t give you a curfew. Just this once I want you to do something wild.”

Sally Ann smiled at the glimmer in the woman’s eyes, wondering what sort of wild things she’d done in her long-gone youth. “We’re just gonna go to prom, and then probably Waffle House. Hasil’s been talking about waffles for a whole month.”

“He’s something, isn’t he?”

“The question is what,” Sally Ann answered with a smile. The doorbell rang and her eyes turned to the door.

Naomi smiled as she stepped into the room. “I’ll get it. Go fix your lipstick.”

Sally Ann hurried into the bathroom and reapplied her lipstick. A moment later she could hear Hasil’s voice, soft and lilting like a babbling brook, and Naomi’s, gravelly from her cigarettes. Both stopped at the sound of her heels on the shining wood floor.

They stared at each other, Naomi grinning between them. Sally’s Ann’s eyes moved over his coppery hair, shining and slicked back into a ball at the crown of his head, and his face, gently shaved with even the sparse hairs around his eyebrows plucked. No one noticed them but her, and she knew what he had done to look his best. Her wild-eyed farm boy had groomed himself into the men she looked too long at in Calvin Klein ads. He wore a crisp black blazer, tailored perfectly for him by the attentive hands of the bleached beyond blonde seamstress at the rental place. His bowtie was the same shade of gold as her bodice, tied crookedly by his eight fingers. Her eyes fell to his bottom half and the corners of her mouth quirked in a smile. Hasil was never one for tradition, and true to his own form, he had forgone the tux’s matching pants for his beloved kilt and Doc Martens. Only he could be so mismatched and still so well-dressed.

Hasil misunderstood her lingering stare, his eyebrows falling into creases. “I know I promised to get myself all cleaned up but—”

“You look perfect,” Sally Ann interjected, a full smile forming on her face.

She smiled harder at the tinge of pink that tipped his ears and the apples of his cheeks. He shook his head. “Naw. I don’t look half as good as you.”

Sally Ann blushed, her eyes falling to her shoes as Hasil stepped closer. He lifted her chin, giving her nose an affectionate tweak, before his hands reached their true destination. His fingers threaded through her silken hair, brushing her scalp then falling through to the ends. “Ain’t ever seen your hair like this.”

“Gramms straightened it.” She smiled at Naomi over his shoulder, her cheeks hot as he continued running his fingers through her hair. He was fascinated by its natural cottony tufts, but this new bone-straight texture captivated him just the same.

“How’d she do that?”

“With the hot comb.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sally Ann smiled. “It’s a metal comb. You heat it on the stove and—It’s not important. Do you like it?”

“Ain’t nothin’ about you I don’t like, pop tart,” he replied. Sally Ann grinned at her new nickname. She had been introducing Hasil to store bought food—something they never ate on his family’s farm on the outside of town—and now she had a new nickname each time he discovered something new he enjoyed. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, surprised by the supple freshly shaved skin around his mouth.

“I think it’s time y'all got going before I see something I shouldn’t,” Naomi interjected.

Sally Ann smiled as Hasil interlaced their fingers, walking toward the door. He turned to smile. “G'night ma'am. I’ll have her back soon as I can.”

“I know.” Naomi smiled as she followed them to the door.

They walked outside the house and she went to the front window to watch them, grinning when the boy stopped at the end of the walkway and rushed to his freshly washed ATV then returned, a plastic box in his hand. She could see the bashful smile on his face as he took the red rose corsage out of it. She smiled as Sally Ann helped him pin it to the corner of her dress’s sweetheart neckline. Her corsage secure, Hasil offered Sally Ann his hand to help her climb onto the ATV as demurely as she could before he climbed on in front of her. Sally Ann looked at the window and smiled as she waved at Naomi. Naomi waved back as they pulled away from the curb.

She’d had her misgivings about the quirky when he started walking Sally Ann home, but she’d overheard enough phone conversations, and seen enough painstakingly carved woodland creatures, to know he had nothing but pure affection for her little girl, whom she was beginning to realize wasn’t so little anymore.


“Last picture. Make it special,” the photographer instructed as Sally Ann and Hasil stood before the prom’s Old Hollywood themed photo backdrop.

“I’m wearin’ a kilt. Can’t get more special,” Hasil replied.

Sally Ann laughed, leaning forward and attempting to cover her mouth. Hasil looked on with a smile, proud of making her laugh, and the photographer smirked as he snapped their picture. He looked at it on his digital camera. “That’s a keeper.”

Hasil held Sally Ann’s hand as he walked over to look. He grinned. “Def'nitely. That there’s goin’ on the weddin’ invitation.”

Sally Ann smirked. “You’re not wearing a kilt to our wedding.”

“We’ll see ‘bout that, cupcake.”

They paid for their pictures then went into the prom. Sally Ann smiled as she looked around at the directions she and the rest of the prom committee had worked on for weeks. She turned to Hasil. “Pretty nice, right?”

“I never thought a gym could look so nice,” he replied, looking around at the black and gold decorations. They had lined the walls with black paper generously sprinkled with gold stars. Gold balloons swarmed the ceiling. The refreshment table held mini bottles of sparkling cider and disposable cameras. A row of photo booths lined the back wall. He smiled at her. “You match ev'rything. You’re the bell of the ball.”


Hasil smiled as he resumed his place at Sally Ann’s side. She turned to looked at him, a bottle of sparkling cider in her hand. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to tell Asa somethin’,” he replied, nodding at his cousin, a recent graduate who had graciously taken the prom committee’s meager offer to be their DJ. Sally Ann gave him a questioning look but Hasil only smiled sweetly, reaching out to twirl a lock of hair around his finger. “I think I miss your curly hair.”

Sally Ann smiled. “It’ll be back once I wash my hair.”

Hasil nodded, having recently learned the joys of Sally Ann’s hair-washing routine when she taught him to twist her locks with a sweet scented paste called shea butter.


February 2015

Hasil smiled at Sally Ann as she emerged from the bathroom, a towel around her neck to catch the drops of water falling off her damp hair. He scooted over on her bed to make room for her to sit beside him, watching as she gathered supplies from her dresser. She sat beside him, putting her products between them, and he picked up a jar of paste. He smiled at its sugary scent. “What’s this?”

“Shea butter,” she answered as if that would explain anything to him. When he gave no reply, she looked at him with a smile. “I use it to twist my hair.”

He nodded, dipping a fingertip into it. “Is this what makes your hair stay in that braid thing?”

She nodded, watching as he rubbed it between his palms then brought them to his face to inhale the scent. “So this is what you smell like all the time…and chocolate too. What’s that?”

She left the bed and went to her dresser then returned with a yellow bottle that she placed in his hands. He read the name slowly. “Cocoa butter… You use a lot of butter on yourself, lollipop.”

She wrinkled her nose as she massaged shea butter into her hair. “I think that’s the first nickname you’ve ever given me that I don’t like.”

“I just figure it fits cause you’re so sweet and I like licking on you…” He smiled, his eyebrows quirking at the way she looked away from her, a smile on her own face. “Plus your head’s awful big for your little body.”

“Shut up! No it isn’t!” She laughed as she shoved his shoulder. “It’s mostly hair.”

“If you say so.” He watched as she used the paste to twist her hair into little knots all over her head. “Now what does those do?”

“They help my hair curl a certain way,” she answered, slowing down her method so he could watch. “You just twist and twist until it becomes a ball by itself.”

He nodded, reaching over to take a lock in his hair and twist it. “Like this here?”

Sally Ann examined his knot in the mirror. “It’s a little small for hair as thick as mine, but yeah.”

It didn’t take them long to finish her hair and start on his. Naomi wasn’t sure what to expect when she came home and heard their laughter.


“Alright kids, here’s the last dance of the night. This song is older than just about all of y'all but a friend of mine just had to have it played for his date,” Asa announced and Sally Ann wasn’t surprised to find him giving them a knowing grin.

She looked at Hasil and he only smiled as Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love” began and the gym’s lights dimmed. Hasil gave a theatrical bow as he offered his hand and Sally Ann grinned as she took it. He sheepishly took her in his arms and pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m real sorry you didn’t get to be queen. I know you wanted it.”

She shrugged and smiled. “Nothing in the world can ruin any night I get with you.”

Hasil looked away, blushing, and Sally Ann lay her head on his chest, allowing him to sway her to the music. She was surprised at the ease with which he moved, having been dreading his two left feet all week. She lifted her head to look at him. “You can dance?”

He blushed again. “I couldn’t ‘til 'bout three days ago. I knew you’d wanna dance so I asked Ms. Ray to teach me a li'l somethin’.”

Sally Ann looked around the gym and found Ms. Ray, their silver-haired history professor, smiling as she looked at them. She turned back to Hasil and caressed his face. “You are the sweetest thing.”

He gave a bashful shrug. “I just wanted to do somethin’ special for you. I’d do anythin’ to make you smile.”

“Can you get Asa to play that song one more time?”

Hasil turned to Asa and gave his cousin a pleading look that he hoped Asa understood. A grin spread over his face when the song began once more, and he turned to Sally Ann, resuming their embrace. “I b'lieve you owe me one smile.”

Sally Ann grinned as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

amishmashofmuses  asked:

“Pass the ball to me!” A little girl calls out to a large group of kids. They just ignore her and continue to throw the ball amongst themselves. The girl lets out a scream of frustration and stomps on the ground. When this fails to get their attention, she angrily storms away. Plopping herself down onto a park bench, she screams in their direction, "Fine! You are all dumb anyway!" She doesn't pay any attention to the man with the briefcase sitting next to her. (Aiko meeting Mr. Slick please :3 )

Mr. Slick relaxed on the park bench as he ate his lunch. While he didn’t really pay much attention when children played in the park, he noticed the group of kids playing ball. They caught his attention when he noticed they appear to ignore one girl in particular. He heard how she called for them to throw the ball to her, yet they ignored it. They even ignored her when she screamed and stomped the ground in frustration. He frowned in concern. Why were they ignoring her? It wasn’t just a couple of kids being bullies, but a whole group. Judging by how many children there were, where was their teacher?

He continued to eat his lunch as the little girl plopped herself on the bench next to him. He wasn’t surprised when she screamed at them. 

“Are those kiddos yer friends?” Mr. Slick asked her. If they were, then they were bad friends…


forgivethesinnersammy because my phone is an idiot it lost the answer to your prompt in its asshole so I hope this is ok. But luckily I copy and pasted the whole thing before I tried to publish it!

Prompt Idea or Close To It: Sex kitten!Sam gets Dean jealous, Dean buys him collar or makes him get a tattoo and Sam may have realized too late that he might have gone overboard.

I hope that’s close enough 😅.

Of course, lovely.

His slim hips sway with the music that’s on. He lets his head fall back as the guitar riff rolls over him.

Eyes watch him with lustful curiosity, Sam knows. His nipples harden under his black shirt at the thought of a pair of green eyes watching and knowing that Sam’s body is his.

“You here alone, darlin’?” A rich voice asks him.

Sam looks over a shoulder at a tall guy, too lanky for Sam’s taste. Also, too cowboy.

“Mh, may-be,” Sam gives him a teasing smile and rolls his hips hard.

Chocolate brown eyes trail themselves a long a body that doesn’t belong to them.

“What’re you doing in this place by yourself?” The guy comes closer, a few feet away from Sam.

Sam just swings his hips slower, blinking up at the man.

“Never said I was alone,” Sam shrugs.

Sam hears a beer bottle slam down onto a table and knows his lover is angry.

“Come home with me. Could ruin that nice ass,” chocolate eyes rake over what they don’t own again.

“R-ruin it?” Sam bites his lips, batting his lashes when the guy comes closer.

“Yes,” its a hiss of arousal from the man.
“You wanna hurt me?” Sam asks, turning to lean against the juke box.

Chocolate eyes meet hazel ones. Green eyes burn.


The twenty-two year old grins, tip of his tongue between his teeth as he sees his older brother come up behind the guy.

Dean grabs him up by the jacket and slams the man onto the nearby, wooden table.

“That’s my little brother you’re fawning over,” Deans voice is a growl.

Leather jacket, combat boots, and short cropped hair–Sam’s weakness.

“I-I didn’t know! He said he was alone!” Chocolate eyes dart from Sam to Dean behind him.

“He said may-be,” Dean hisses, picks the guys’ head up and slams it back down onto the wooden table; knocking him out.

Green eyes land on Sam.

“Lets go. Now.” An order.

Dean grabs him by the neck and steers them out the bar even as people watch.

All that Sam loves rolled into twenty-six years of hard muscle, green eyes, and possesiveness.

He gets left in the dingy motel room with an order of “You move and you’ll get spanked” that makes him shiver, but stay put.

Sam needs Dean, wants him, but Dean has opted to neglect him in favor of disappearing off somewhere. They could be having ravenous sex, Dean buried deep inside him, but Sam is just picking away at the red bed spread, laid out on his stomach as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air.

His cock stays half hard in his jeans and he ruts into the bed softly to keep the ache away, until he hears the rumble of the Impala.

He hears the engine stop and the creaking of the door opening and closing, immediately he’s fully hard.

“Dean,” he purrs as the motel room door opens up to reveal said man.

His older brothers mouth is set in a firm line and his shoulders squared.

“Face down, ass up,” Dean commands, a brown bag crinkling as it hits the bed.

“B-but, Dean,” Sam stutters, but does as he’s told.

He spreads his legs apart to arch his back further and lays his forehead down on his forearms.

The pillow smells like cheap laundry detergent. That’s what he notices as his brother stands beside the bed and begins to open Sam’s jeans roughly with one hand.

“You think you’re for everybody, Sam?” Dean asks, voice even.

“No, big brother,” Sam answers, letting Dean yank his jeans down to his knees.

“Then why–” he pushes Sam flat to the bed, “–do you act like it?”

He admits that he’s been testing Dean more than is acceptable, but he hadn’t thought about the consequences.

“I-I didn’t mean to!” Sam gasps as Dean rips his pants and boxers the rest of the way off, jolting his body.

Sam looks over his shoulder just in time to see Dean shrugging off his jacket and throw it onto the other bed. Deans muscles bugle under his shirt.

“Face down,” Dean barks.

Sam puts his face into the pillow and a few seconds later, a sharp slap to his ass is delivered. He bites the pillow, ass cheeks clenching at the sting.

“I told you not to be dancing like that in front of other people,” Dean whispers hotly in his ear, wet lips brushing.

Sam whimpers as Dean spanks him hard again, the sharp sound of his echoing.

“All this ass is for me, baby boy,” Dean kneads his left cheek hard as he licks from Sam’s neck all the way up to the shell of his ear.

Sam’s cock is hard and trapped under his belly, probably blurting pre-come out all on the sheets.

“So, I got something for you,” Dean says, voice raspy.

Sam tries not to whine as his lovers warmth disappears and he hears Dean pick up the brown bag.

“Lift up your head.”

Sam immediately does as he’s told, his eyes staring straight ahead at the brown headboard.

He hears the brown bag hit the floor lightly, empty, and a metallic jingle.

“Look, Sammy.”

He turns his head to the right to see…to see a fucking collar.

His hand flies down to squeeze the base of his cock with a whine, keeping his orgasm at bay.

The dark green collar dangles from Deans index finger, the silver name tag says ‘Property of Dean Winchester’.

“Gotta two name tags just for you, baby,” Dean smiles, green eyes dilated.

He reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out another silver tag, 'Dean’s Good Boy’.

Sam cries out as his hips buck against the sheets, head of his cock wet with his excitement.

“You’re going to look so good with this around your neck, let all those bastards know you’re mine,” Dean groans.

Sam’s throat gets grabbed as Dean climbs on the bed behind him, putting the collar around his neck.

It fits perfectly, the leather cool against his heated skin.

“My perfect boy,” his brother kisses at his neck.

Dean leans back between Sam’s spread legs, gripping his ass hard.

“Let it happen again, Sammy–” Dean slaps both his cheeks hard, “–and this ass is getting my name tattooed on it.”

Sam shivers and mewls as his brother spreads him open, exposing his hole to the cool air.

Sam is about to ask why Dean isn’t moving before he hears him spit, a warm wad of it landing right on his hole.

“Oh God,” Sam humps down hard into the bed, dick drooling.

Dean spits again and it runs down to his balls, slicking him up.

“Dean,” he pants out, face flushed and body on fire.

“Hold on, just–fuck,” Dean uses both hands to get his jeans down around his knees.

Sam squirms as he feels more of the spit sliding down behind his balls. He won’t last long, his balls already drawn up tight.

Dean lays over his little brother, slipping his throbbing cock between the slick space of Sam’s ass.

“Yeah, Dean. Fuck me, fuck me,” Sam whispers harshly, gasping as Dean ruts against him.

“Not tonight, baby,” Dean licks the shell of Sam’s ear as he picks up the pace.

His spit slicks the way, his dick slipping smoothly along the crack of Sam’s ass, over his twitching hole. He humps him like they’re animals, making the bed move and the headboard smack the wall.

“You’re going to cum just like this, all over these sheets. Just from me on top of you like this,” Dean growls into Sam’s ear, he wraps his hand around his throat to feel the collar.

Sam lets out a choked yell, hands tight in the sheets. He spreads his legs wider to move down harder into the sheets and buck back up into his brothers thrusts.

His nipples rub against the sheets as he cries out his pleasure and Dean rubs a thumb along his collar.

He’ll wear the damn thing whenever Dean tells him, wherever they go, no matter what.

“Beautiful, plump ass, Sammy. Feels so fucking good around me,” Dean is still talking into his ear, tightening his hand around his throat.

Sam lets out a yelp when the fat tip of Deans dick catches in his puffy hole. He’s going to come, can feel it in the way his balls pulse.

“’M gonna’ come soon, Dean. I’m gonna–oh, oh!” Sam lets out an embarrassing squeal when Dean reaches under him to pinch a nipple and bites his neck.

“I was thinking, Sammy,” Dean breathes hotly, his body pushing Sam further down into the bed, his dick making a sickenly wet sound as he ruts harder.

Sam sounds like he’s starving for air, chest heaving as his orgasm nears.

“Yeah, Dean, yeah?” Sam swallows, head tilting upward as his body is jarred wildly, his bangs sticking to his forehead.

“Was thinking about getting a tag that said–that said–” Dean cuts off with a loud moan, bloated length throbbing against Sam.

Sam writhes under Sam, sweat making the glide of their bodies easier.

“That said, Deans. Good. Bitch,” Dean snarls in his ear.

Sam screams loud, bucking wildly and shaking as he comes hard, moaning. He sobs, cock trapped under his stomach as he shoots the last of his load.

Dean sits back quickly, squeezing the globes of Sam’s ass together and fucking between them.

“Good boy,” Dean smirks, breathless.

He spits thickly onto his own red, aching length and fucks forward slowly. Sam groans, boneless and lets Dean do as he pleases.

He’s gonna spill all over his brothers tan skin and between his sweet ass.

“Not going to do it again, right?” Dean whispers, trying to hold out a little longer.
“No, Dean, not gonna,” Sam whimpers.
“Uh huh,” Dean pants, beginning to shake as his orgasm hits, hissing as his balls pump out his seed.

He looks down to watch himself spill thick and hot all over Sam’s hole and lower back.

When he’s done he slumps forward, groaning when his come dries between them.

“Dean?” Sam whispers.

Dean slides over on his side and Sam turns to cuddle against him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry,” Sam kisses along his sweaty neck, cooing softly.

“Its alright, just…makes me nervous to think about something happening to you cause– what if I’m not their at the moment, ya’ know?” Dean murmurs into his hairs.

“I do it cause you’re there with me, Dean.”

His older brother snorts softly.

Did you want smut? Cause smut happened. I’m sorry.

[delete what’s in the brackets before publishing? (ehehe i most certainly will not –eliza) ummmm i’m drunk and i love you so have this and please, for th elove of all that’s holy beta it before you post it hahahah but yeah delete the bracket stuff but keep what’s after for me?] heyyy, eliza! i’m drunk blogging, so you’re getting this :D

Cas is a good boy, he knows this. He went into heat early for an omega; he’d been barely nine. Dean’s family bought him immediately, pleased to hear that a young Novak omega was on the market. He’s ten now, mated to Dean, who’s sixteen. Whatever his beautiful alpha asks him to do, he does. No hesitation, no fight. He loves the way Dean smiles at him, pets his hair and calls him pretty.

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Superhero/Cheerio roleplaying, as requested.

“We meet again Crimson Cheerio,” Nightbird says with a swoosh of his cape. Mostly because it looks cool. “You thought you could get away with stealing the Crown Jewels. Not on my watch.”

Crimson Cheerio struts around him, dragging a finger down Nightbird’s armored chest. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to get away, I-” He stops, grimaces and wiggles uncomfortably. “This uniform is really tight, ugh.”

Blaine sighs, cape dropping in a flaccid flutter around him. “Kurt, you’re breaking character,” he complains.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! I love your writing! Can you do an AU fic of 8x03? Maybe a college AU of castle and Beckett playing beer pong? Please and thank you :)

Professor Castle was only five years her senior, but she swears the man acts just as immature as the rest of the frat boys at this stupid party Madison had dragged her to, playing beer pong and crowing with delight as he has his frankenstein opponent chugging down another cup of beer. 

Maddie had abandoned her for Brent Edwards (some things never change) long ago, though, and so Kate remains propped against a pillar near the exit, nursing her single red solo cup of liquor for the night. She’s twenty-two, one of the few here actually permitted to drink legally, but there are too many images of her father, passed out on the ground of their apartment with a bottle of scotch clutched to his chest, for her to indulge in the ‘joys’ of college drinking.

The crowd groans in disappointment when Professor Castle steps away, only one cup of beer empty on his side of the table while Patrick is swaying on his feet, and withdraws from the game. His eyes land on her once he emerges, noticing her watching him, and Kate quickly glances to her shoes. 

She didn’t dress up, not like everyone else, wearing nothing more than a pair of glittery cat ears on a headband that Madison had tossed at her while she was slipping into her ‘slutty witch’ costume, but Professor Castle isn’t donning a costume either and she appreciates that at least one other person looks normal tonight.

“Ms. Beckett,” he greets, the smile flickering across his lips genuine and she hates how it has butterflies swirling in her stomach. Not only is he her teacher, completely off limits, but he also gets under her skin in all of the worst ways. She should not have a crush on Professor Castle. “Not enjoying the party?”

“What gave me away?” Kate quips, arching her brow at him and causing his smile to grow, a low chuckle to rumble past his lips that has the stupid butterflies swarming into a frenzy. She didn’t have a crush on him. She didn’t. “You seem to be having a blast though, Professor.”

“Gotta keep the cool teacher image up,” Castle shrugs. “Only way to earn respect from most of them.”

Kate’s brow furrows at the explanation, but… huh, makes sense.

“That’s actually a really smart strategy,” she murmurs, earning an amused look.

“So glad to finally have your approval,” he returns, nodding towards the door that leads out onto the campus courtyard and Kate falls into step beside him all too easily. Only because she’s eager to get some fresh air, that’s all. “Thought I was just an immature ass of a teacher, didn’t you?”

Beckett gnaws on her bottom lip to suppress her grin. “Perhaps.”

“You wound me.”

They walk together across the empty lawn, the light from the street-lamps above and the glow from the party inside illuminating the sidewalks. 

“A little hard to respect a grown man playing beer pong with a bunch of boys,” Kate teases, smirking at his gasp of offense. 

“You say this as if beer pong is not a respectable sport,” he tosses back, meandering down the curving paths with her, and she’s not sure of their destination, but she finds that she doesn’t really care.

She has enjoyed the few conversations she’s had with their temporary literature professor over the last few weeks, but never has she had the opportunity to be alone with him, to speak without the prying eyes and ears of other students around.

“Oh is it?”

“You just don’t like it because you’re bad at it,” he bets, goading her, and Kate scoffs.

“Tossing a ping pong ball into a cup of beer is not a challenge, Professor Castle.”

“Oh yeah? Is that a challenge?”

They come to a stop in front of one of the male dorms, his brow hitched with the question, and Kate bites her bottom lip in contemplation, notices his eyes flicker there momentarily before darting away.


“Maybe it is,” she decides, taking a dangerous step closer, diverting her gaze between his lips and the enticing blue eyes behind his glasses. “Up for it or not?”

Castle doesn’t back away, delight shimmering in his gaze at her answer. “You’re on.”

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