d a n g e r o u s @xx--xv - Tumblr Blog

❝N—o! I’m. You’re not going.❞ Jensen bites hard into his bottom lip, shoulders tensing. he refuses to go closer to Misha. he can’t keep doing this thing where he’s just property, because fuck, he loves Misha to death and he would die for him, but he doesn’t want to do this. he doesn’t want to share.

xx--xv

❝You must be confused, Jensen. You see, I thought you said I wasn't going like that was even an option. Ты мой дом, Jenska. I'll come home. But it's not open for discussion.❞ Perhaps Misha is going about this the wrong way. He reaches his fingers across the distance and burrows them tightly in Jensen's short hairs, yanking him forward until he's down on his knees. He doesn't like asking more than once for what he wants.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

xx--i

❝Ruby? As in blonde haired Ruby? As in the girl who wanted me to give you underwear, Ruby? No. You’re going. You’re not leaving me here to go out somewhere with her.❞ it’s a sure fire way to get his ass kicked into next year, but Jensen’s not going to let it happen.

xx--xv

❝What was that?❞ Misha's expression falls flat in less than two seconds, dark eyes hardening as he appraises the boy. Jensen's been rather outspoken lately. Perhaps now is the time to remind him of his place -- to remind him who he's with. He raises his hand and motions for Jensen to come closer.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

xx--i

❝Nn — Can we talk later?❞ Jensen tries his hardest to not pout, because he knows that Misha doesn’t want to see him acting ungrateful, but he can’t stand it. he can’t turn it on and off like Misha can. he frowns and bites his bottom lip.

xx--xv

❝Ruby and I are going out of town for the weekend.❞ There's a soft anger in his voice. Jensen's acting bratty again, almost as bratty as the night they fought about the girl who kissed him. Misha still doesn't know her name. The boy ought to think of this little trip as punishment.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

xx--i

❝D—on’t tease.❞ Jensen fights at the growing arousal in his bones, whimpering softly at the touch of Misha’s hands against his skin. the hit man is being awfully gentle — Jensen wonders if he’s done something wrong.

xx--xv

❝Я уже жаль, Jenska. We need to talk.❞ The boy must have no idea, then. Misha releases him entirely and pushes him forward. It's a shame. It would be different, though, if Misha weren't more angry than he was feeling the need to cuddle his boy.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

xx--i

❝I — Ah.❞ the taste of Russian on the man’s tongue is almost too much. heat sears through his veins until he’s mewling, twisting slightly with discomfort.

xx--xv

❝Домой, Jenska. Ты мой домой.❞ Cruel fingers burrow their way into the space between the boy's skin and jeans, wiggling. He palms the flesh of Jensen's hip, moving his mouth to suckle on the junction between his neck and shoulder.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

xx--i

a shock ripples it’s way up the base of his spine. a small gasp passes through his lips, and he’s turning ever so slightly in Misha’s tight grip to press their mouths together. ❝—Misha—❞

xx--xv

❝Не говори.❞ He brushes a hand up against the side of his mouth, squeezing Jensen tightly to prevent him from turning. It's different this time. He's calmer.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

❝Ты мой дом.❞ Slow hands wrap around the younger man's torso, tugging him close to his chest from behind. Lips splay over the smooth skin of the nap of his neck, gently nuzzling in a soft kiss.

#x x i #thread3; x x i

witness-protection-with-wings

❝Don't move! You've got something on your back. Let me get it for you--❞ Misha places the open port of his gun against the man's lower spine and shrugs. It was much easier said than done, although if he had any intention of removing the weapon, he would have moved already. He's not here to kill him. Just spook him. It is his job to protect what was his. He smiles easily and dusts off one of his shoulders.

❝Okay, I got it.❞

#witnessprotectionwithwings #introductory setting; witnessprotectionwithwings

lavanduleaes

❝You look hungry. Don't they feed you in this establishment? Why, someone might assume you're a skeleton just by looking at you!❞ A wicked grin is quickly muffled behind a hand, and he tries very hard to not break his concentration. He's only been this ruthless to someone before, and it had been his own mother. He'd been seven.

❝You could eat a cow if you really put your mind to it! Although, you have some baby fat in your cheeks you should get rid of. I mean, it makes the rest of you look awfully round. Although, isn't that what you're trying to avoid? Sweetheart, you aren't doing a good enough job.❞

#lavanduleaes #introductory setting; lavanduleaes

nightxthief

❝The world is ending. Don't believe me? Here, take this stupid flyer.❞ Jehova's Witness, or lunatic, who knows? But Misha doesn't want or need this flyer, so he tosses it at the next person he passes as he walks on foot and shrugs his shoulders. Someone would believe it and need it.

#nightxthief #introductory setting; nightxthief

balancethelines

Morality is such a stupid sentiment. What need was there for morality when the world was already in shambles, coming apart at the seams until everything that is bad and illegal is bursting through? It's such a boring concept, one meant for senile old men and for those who had never tasted blood on their lips. Death, immoral deads, disastrous traits -- they were delicious in their own way. Exhilarating and comforting. The world needs a good disease to be rid of those who find the darkness in things too sinful.

The bad things were sinfully delightful. Darkness was more a soothing touch than that of light, and doesn't everyone have their share of dark thoughts built inside their chests that come out in the brightest of times? That's how all bad men got started, after all. A little push in the right direction, and everything was set for the rest of their days. Never mind the blood and gore that ruined a good pair of boots or a designer shirt -- if you were bad, there were no rules. Tear down the security cameras, shoot open windows and let the alarms and sirens be your lullabies at night. At least, that's how Misha thought. He didn't find there to be a single wrong thing with a little anarchy. Games that involved death were so much better to play than those where everyone got participation trophies. Jensen's father at least had that part right. ❝I think we should crown a new king.❞ He does not expect the woman beside him to understand a word of what he speaks, but he's very precise in his conversation. He reminds himself that not everyone is the same. She, as most humans appear, seems to correspond with those bright arrays of all things that were justice, and he tends to drive towards those that would given even the worst serial killers nightmares. A raunchy grin travels across his features until he's beaming. Yes. The mafia would do very well the put Alexei in charge. Someone as ruthless as the boy could take down this shit hole of a world, and Misha would happily watch everything burn.

#balancethelines #introductory setting; balancethelines

chrysi-l-y-r-a

❝How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Why, a woodchuck would chuck all the wood if a woodchuck could chuck wood! Which makes for an interesting setting, does it not?❞ Misha laughs, then, for it's simple. It's the same formula. How many people would a hit man for the Russian mafia kill if the Russian mafia hired a hit man to kill so many people? Why, a hit man would kill all the people if the Russian mafia hired him, because it pays well. It's the same even if he were a bird. As long as there's good profit, he's interested. As long as the bird gets fed, its interested. There's no reason for silly rhyming games to questions that are that simple to answer.

#chrysilyra #introductory setting; chrysilyra

morantem

❝Ghosties, monsters, and aliens, oh my! Those are some manly interests for such a pretty girl, don't you think, Boss?❞ He offers her the shadow of a grin. Jensen had told him about his night prior, and he hadn't left out the interesting bit about the girl with the strange interests. Misha's a bit interested in the dark stuff too, but for entirely different reasons. He mocks, Jensen admires.

#morantem #introductory setting; morantem

dontscratchthewalls

❝Ah. It's my time for questioning now. Why don't you stay right there, and don't move a muscle? Simple enough, мальчик?❞ The hired gun sits himself on the dresser, crossing his legs. For someone who went around with the ability to ask others questions, Misha would have expected him to have a bit better of a room than this one. Not that he minds the smell much himself. He plays with one of his knives, carving a small figure into the dresser's wood. It's such a pretty shape.

#dontscratchthewalls #introductory setting; dontscratchthewalls

monstrueux--sauvuer

No need to make more enemies, yet a silver tongue is not one to easily tame. Misha speaks without further consideration. His interest has piqued, and he finds that questioning the motives of those who could be described as chaotically good to be so much more exhilarating that moving along to his next victim. He allows his gaze to roam his skin, interested momentarily before finding interest in the dirt on his shoes. He'll just have to clean them later. ❝How was the journey down under, boy?❞

#monstrueuxsauveur #introductory setting; monstrueuxsauveur

post--mortem--kiss

❝I stare as the walls close in on me. Fragile existence, am I alive? Fragments of a broken life, frozen int ime. The darkened sanctuary within my mind; I call for in times of strife. Withering, like autumn leaves. Beauty always dies.❞ Misha takes in the appearance of the young woman, lips pressing into a firm line when he's finished his rhyme. Should she expect to live, he'll applaud her. He's not here to kill her after all, merely question why she has put down her own knife for the sake of sanity that should not linger long given her structure. He tilts his chin and peers at her longer before tearing his eyes away to stare at the ceiling.

❝Devoured, by Ashka. It reminds me of you.❞

#post mortem kiss #introductory setting; post mortem kiss

xv--ii

It’s him, the guy Jensen mentioned. Misha Collins. The murderer who actually had no murders beneath his name because people couldn’t pin anything on him; the murderer who was probably going to end his life since the other girl had failed so hard. Jared tugs his knees closer to his chest and shifts his weight in the bathtub, his heart jumping into his throat until it’s hard to breathe. He’s just seventeen. He can’t die, he really can’t. He’s given this speech to somewhere before, but in his muddled state, he can’t remember if it was Jensen or the pretty girl on the street who had kicked him. Jared doesn’t want to fight it anymore, whimpers softly and digs his face into his torn jeans. ❝Don’t hurt me. I won’t touch anything.❞ Jensen had mentioned this guy was pretty anal about the things in his house, and Jared didn’t want to die because he accidentally knocked a vase over.

xx--xv

A withering gaze is ran down the man's lithe form, and it's hard to keep back the disgusted grimace on the Russian's lips. Of course. He should have expected Jensen to be the bleeding heard who would insist they have a pet, but now that this boy has seen his home, he simply can't release him into the wild. Misha draws his weapon from the inside of his jacket, a curved knife, and inspects it closely. He listens to the boy's plea, nods his head while he listens to his words. He considers it. Not hurting. Jensen isn't home, and it seems to be a sight he ought to learn to enjoy. Misha doesn't want pets, doesn't want to see them or share them with anyone else. Dark eyes linger on the ashen skin coating the boy's bone structure, and he grunts. ❝Why are you here in the first place?❞ It would not be much of a surprise to hear the boy admit that it was Jensen that brought him here. His apartment is high up and there is no way that the boy could have found it without help. Misha grinds his teeth lightly.

#x v i i #introductory setting; x v i i

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