rjalker:

optimisam:

sam-winchester-admiration-league:

bbcbecausebenedictcumberbatch:

Why is Sam doing research so hot?

somebody needs to research why Sam doing research is so hot.

I move that Sam should research why Sam doing research is so hot.

Sam honestly had no clue why the fans of those damned “Supernatural” books found him so…hot.

Out of sheer boredom, he’d Googled his name, completely forgetting for a moment that he was famous.

He stared down at the laptop, his brow furrowed and his mouth forming a frown. What?

Apparently people found watching him doing research ‘hot’. His brow rose of its own accord. That was…strange, to say the least.

Conceding that he probably didn’t have anything better to do, he opened a new tab, and typed into the url bar, “Why is Sam Winchester doing research hot?”

For a few minutes, he just sat there, eyes scanning through the /multitude/ of discussions on the topic. Apparently, his fans weren’t sure, either.

When he got to a part where his fans voted that /he/ be the one to reasearch why him reasearching was so ‘hot’, his mouth twisted itself into a twitching smile of irony, and his hands reached forward to slowly shut the laptop.

He stood up from the table, and moved over to the bookshelf.

It was probably safer to read a book than to delve too deeply into his fanbase.

…Though, he had to admit…

He was flattered–and surprised–to see that so many of them were willing to stand up for him.

Not that he beleived any of the wonderful things they said about him….

…But still. He could pretend.

tabbycas:

Dean is an 18 year old fanfic writer who doesn’t feel worth in the real world. He takes to the internet to express his passion and here he finds Cas in the comment section. Their bond grows immediately and soon neither can stand to be so far away from the other.

Read chap.5 here

gamoradean:

The first thing Dean notices are the tattoos.

The man’s entire left arm is covered in intricate swirls and patterns, large, lush flowers, all of them done in bright, beautiful colors. 

“Are those bees?” Dean asks, pointing at the man’s bicep.

Slowly, the tattoo artist lifts his head and he squints up at Dean.  “Yes, they are,” he replies simply.

Dean’s tongue suddenly swells and he doesn’t know what else to say.  The face staring back at him is so unbelievably gorgeous it takes his breath away.  As cliché as it is, he can’t help but study him in detail, the soft swell of his lips, a dusty pink, his painfully blue eyes, ringed with smudged eyeliner, topped off with a crop of chocolate colored hair, artfully tousled.  He’s wearing a heather gray vest with the cover of an old Smith’s record printed onto the front. 

“Are you interested in getting some work done today?” he asks. 

Keep reading

sammylied:

Inspired by “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men.

Dean stared at the ceiling and hoped it would collapse in on him.  Castiel stared at Dean and hoped he would finally see him.

Neither got their wish.

Cas waited for some sort of improvement as the days went by.  He watched Dean closely, looked for the darkness in his eyes to lessen.  It never did.  In those few spare hours a night in which Dean slept, Cas watched over him.  He watched the nightmares bloom in his chest.  He listened to the shattered sounds of a man who was not so much breaking as already broken.  And the worst part was that Cas was incapable of waking him from black dreams that gripped him.  

Dean waited for death.  He did not wait for it like a man who had accepted a different path.  He waited for it like a beggar waits for food.  He craved it because it was his last salvation.  He had nothing and no one but himself.  

Sam visited, of course.  As often as his schedule allowed.  He would talk endlessly about his days.  Whatever new client he had, what he and Jessica had been up to.  Sam talked as if he could erase his brother’s pain with words alone.  He talked like he could fix the cracks in Dean’s soul.  He hoped his words would somehow banish the emptiness that had taken hold in Dean’s chest.  He talked to fill the silence that surrounded Dean’s hospital bed.  Though, of course, the room was never completely silent.  Not with the whir of the machines that worked to prolong Dean’s fragile life.  Not with the eternal song of the monitors, ticking away his heartbeats like they still mattered.  

The sterile hospital room always felt so damned empty.  It didn’t matter if all three of them were there, because Castiel didn’t count as a presence anymore.

Keep reading

supernaturally-penned:

Word Count: 814

Reader Gender: Female

Character(s): Castiel, Reader

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Based on the imagine: “Imagine taking a walk in the rain with Castiel.”

“Y/N, would you like to come with me?”

         The angel’s gravelly voice pulls you from the cheesy romance novel you’re curled up with. “Huh?” You murmur, looking up at him.

         “I am taking a ‘walk’.” He uses air quotes around the word. His tie is hopelessly crooked, and somehow that just adds to the effect. You grin at him, amused, as he continues, “Would you like to accompany me?”

         Of all the times to want to go outside. You furrow your eyebrows at him. “A walk? Cas, it’s pouring outside.”

         There’s a moment of apprehension, as if he’s nervous, before he states, very matter-of-factly, “Dean informed me that you enjoy the rain.” He looks like a puppy dog, so hopeful it’s adorable. And the fact that he’s been asking Dean what you like to do? If you didn’t know him better, you would think it was romantic.

         You smile at the dorky angel, and reply, “Alright, Cas, let’s take a walk.” You shake your head a little and set your book down.

         “You may want to wear a rain coat to prevent sickness,” he informs you very seriously.

         You roll your eyes at him, but get up to grab your jacket anyway. Pulling your arms through the sleeves, you call to the angel, “So where are we going?”

         “I believe the journey matters more than the destination on a walk. Is this correct?” He says pragmatically, tilting his head sideways just a bit. You bite back an entertained smile and just nod, gesturing for him to follow you up the stairs and out of the bunker.

         “Which way, Cas?” You ask once you’ve closed the door behind you.

         He doesn’t say anything, but turns to the left, so you follow his lead. True to what you thought, it’s raining outside. The streets are glistening wet and only a sliver of moonlight peeks through the thick clouds overhead. Damp as it may be outside, Dean was right—you do enjoy this rain, especially when you have the fallen angel next to you. You smile over at him, at the light shining on his profile.

         The situation seems like something straight out of the novel you were just reading. But this is Castiel—an Angel of the Lord—that you’re talking about, and you’re not even sure he knows what romance is.

         “Any particular reason you wanted to take a walk tonight?” You ask him, giving him a curious look.

         “They are good for talking, I was told,” he tells you thoughtfully.

         You smile, bewildered, and push further, “And what do you want to talk about, Cas?”

         “I am not human, Y/N,” he states after some hesitation.

         “Yeah, Cas, I kinda got that a while ago,” you point out, even more confused. “When you popped into our lives, you know, claiming to be an ‘Angel of the Lord’.”

         He waits patiently for you to finish talking before he continues. “I am not human,” he repeats. “Once, I did not feel emotions. I suppose being close to the Winchesters has taught me some of these…but what I have been feeling recently is very new.”

         You eye him cautiously. “Like what, Cas?”

         “Dean has informed me that it is something all humans feel. He also told me that I should get it ‘off my chest’.” More air quote follow these words, and you can’t help but laugh at him.

         A look of embarrassment passes across the angel’s handsome face, and you force yourself to take this ‘talk’ seriously.

“I have been having feelings. In nature, they are…romant—“

The rain starts to fall harder as he’s speaking. You look up at the torrents of water pouring out of the sky, and realize suddenly that you have a hood. Flipping it up over your hair, you turn back to him, but he’s stopped.

         “—No, don’t do that, Y/N.” Cas says, sounding alarmed.

         Huh? “Don’t—don’t put my hood up?” You ask, puzzled as to the angel’s logic.

         “No, you look…” Cas stops himself, but continues. “I cannot see your face with your hood up. You look very beautiful in this light. In all lights.” He states the last bit so nonchalantly, like he’s discussing the weather—but you can see his nervousness.

         You raise your eyebrows at him.

         “I am sorry, Y/N. Should I not have said that? I just do not understand human customs, but I thought you should know—“

         Finally understanding the point of the conversation, you cut him off by launching yourself into the angel’s arms. He looks surprised, but before he can say another word, you press your lips to his. When you pull back, he is stuttering, trying to find words, but you just laugh.

         Slipping your hand through his, you pull him in the direction of the bunker. “C’mon, Cas. I think we can continue this conversation somewhere a bit drier.”

tiptoe39:

“So,” Dean says, shutting off the TV and turning to Cas, “what state do you want to get married in?”

Castiel looks like someone has flash-frozen him. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve got our pick now,” Dean replies with a shrug. “Pick a state, any state.”

“Dean.” Castiel frowns his I’m-about-to-be-far-too-practical frown. “Leaving aside the fact that you seem to have just proposed to me, you do realize that I technically don’t exist according to the laws of this country. I have no birth certificate, identification papers…”

“You mean you need someone to make you a fake ID?” Dean’s grin is a wicked thing. “Gee, I wonder if I know anybody who does that.”

Keep reading

*Submitted anonymously for Late Nights With Misha, I did not write this.

Thinking of sitting on the floor with Misha, cuddling up between his legs. Misha gets frisky starts to tease my breasts, pepper kisses on my neck as one of his hands creeps down between my thighs and he caresses me intimately. 

I can feel his hard cock pressing into my back as he’s all like “do you like that” “tell me how it feels” “do you want me inside” as his fingers wander. I’m rocking my hips to meet his touch, breathing heavy, face flush. Then he’s all like “show me how much you like it, cum for me (name)" 

His expert touch is so damn good and I cum for him intensely cradling against him, whimpering his name all "oh fuck Misha” and “oh please don’t stop”. 

He brings his fingers up to my face to show me how wet he made me, smug about how easily he can get me off as he pushes his fingers into my mouth and I eagerly suck them clean. His erection still pressing into my back. I sit up, turn around and crawl to him we share a passionate kiss as he releases himself from his underwear. 

Keep reading

spnficlets:

Man, I am all about Dean being enthusiastically vocal about what he likes in bed.  I’m not talking about the kind of moaning and screaming straight out of some implausible porno; not that I have anything against that, mind you.  It’s just not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about a shuddery-voiced “ah, that’s nice” when Cas teases his nipple with fingers and lips.  I’m talking about tiny little “mmmyeahhhh”s that rumble up from deep in Dean’s chest when Castiel’s teeth scrape his neck in a gentle bite.  Or about a gasp and an “oh, yeah” followed by a hoarse “do it again” when Cas swirls his tongue just so around the head of Dean’s cock.

I’m talking about the straight up “I like that” when Castiel grinds their cocks together in a slow, teasing rut, their lips almost touching and the words no more than a breath.  About the gruff “shit, Cas, don’t stop now” when they finally get around to fucking and Castiel’s thrusts start to slow even the tiniest bit.  Or about the growled reminder “I like it when you pull my hair” when those thrusts find a quick, sharp rhythm that grinds Dean’s cheek into the bed.  

I’m talking about the “yeah, yeah, like that” and shortly thereafter wheezed “just like that” when Cas takes the hint and grabs a handful of hair and between the hair pulling, the thick cock filling him, and his own hand slipping slick and frantic on his dick Dean knows that he’s gonna come any second.  And about the satisfied sighs and breathlessly murmured “god, that was great” when they’re face-to-face again and sharing post-coital kisses.

I’m just really all about enthusiastically vocal Dean, you know?

deancasheadcanons:

one time while they’re at the bar, cas asks if dean’s ever honestly lost a game of pool and dean answers, “yeah, of course. when i was like 10 and learning how to play.” cas doesn’t really say anything else after that, but dean notices how his eyes stay glued to the group of men and women playing at the tables in the corner.

“c’mon,” dean says as he grabs cas’ hand and pulls him over to an empty table. “you ever play before?” he asks as he tosses a cue at cas and starts racking the balls.

cas just shakes his head.

“i’ll teach you.”

it isn’t until the bartender AND the server refer to cas as dean’s boyfriend that dean realizes standing behind cas, pressed up against him, whispering in his ear, one hand on his elbow and the other cupping his shooting hand over the stick….definitely makes it look like cas is his boyfriend.

huh. well, if people are going to assume it anyway, and if cas doesn’t seem weirded out at all, then it’s totally cool if dean continues his not-so-platonic lessons. he even gets away with a peck or two to cas’ temple.

and if somehow in the confusion dean ends up with his back pressed into the green felt and cas above him, kissing him breathless with a pool cue still in his hand, well, whatever. it was bound to happen eventually anyway.

thoriinsacorn:

imagine dean having to have teeth out and being really high on meds once he gets back to the bunker and sam filming the whole thing.

imagine him being all overexcited like ‘OMG SAM LOOK AT CAS’S EYES AREN’T THEY THE BLUEST THING????’ ‘hahahaha sure dean’ ‘NO OMG I CAN’T STOP LOOKING AT THEM LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL THEY ARE CAS ARE YOU AN ANGEL?’

and sam would be wetting himself and cas would be so red and then dean would be like ‘SAM WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING IS THERE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?’ then he would look in a mirror and gasp and clutch at his face

‘OH MY GOD THERE ARE DOTS ALL OVER MY FACE WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY AM I GOING TO DIE ARE THERE A MILLION SNIPERS TRYING TO KILL ME?’ and sam wouldn’t be able to breathe so cas would be like ‘no dean, those are freckles’ ‘FRECKLES??? WHY DO I HAVE THEM YOU DON’T HAVE ANY!’ and he’d start touching cas’s face to look for freckles and cas would blush again

and then dean would be like ‘CAS AM I SICK?’ and then he’d pull his shirt up and look at his own chest ‘OH MY GOD THEY ARE EVERYWHERE THEY’RE ALL OVER ME’ and cas would be so flustered and staring at dean’s chest and sam would gasp out ‘you know some people say freckles come from angel kisses’ and cas would blush even more and glare at sam while dean gasps ‘OMG CAS HAVE YOU BEEN KISSING ME ALL OVER MY BODY?’

and cas wouldn’t be able to speak just shake his head and then dean would cry and say ‘cas am i not pretty enough to kiss? do you not want to kiss me or my body?’ and sam would actually have to have a lie down and cas would only manage a strangled ‘dean’ before dean forgets why he was crying and starts undoing his pants to see how far the freckles go. at which point sam leaps up to stop him and cas has to concentrate very hard on breathing

inspired by (x)

collectionofdestiel:

Castiel knew that he was lucky to have even got one date with the gorgeous man who was Dean Winchester. His entire life he had figured that he would settle when it came to romance, that he would never find someone to actually love in a way that frightens him to death. But during his senior year of college he had bumped into the mechanic and from there grew something that Cas had never prepared himself for: love.

Three years into their relationship and Cas knew that he would never find someone else as perfect for him as Dean. Sure they had their fights, but they always came back together stronger than before. There were few times when Castiel actually thought Dean would leave him, that the love they built would crumble to dust at their feet. Tonight was the night that Castiel felt a deep burn searing his insides as he watched his boyfriend smile flirtatiously at their waiter.

Keep reading

winchestersandwordprocessors:

Gabriel had been out of heaven for centuries, so it stood to reason that he would need a distraction or two- at least that’s how he justified keeping tabs on the Winchesters. He’d first encountered them when he’d been having a little fun back at that college- really though, frat houses reminded him so much of the nest back home that he couldn’t resist dropping in. Anyway, the Winchesters had shown up and captured his attention, and he’d been following them ever since.  

He was caught in their story the same way the earth is trapped by the gravity of the sun. Maybe it was the way they bitched and teased. Maybe it was the way they fought for each other. Or maybe it was because these little humans had something deeper, some bond that kept them together; a bond that angelic brothers had lacked all those years ago.

What started as a hobby- popping into the Winchester’s neighborhood, innocuously checking on them- soon grew into an obsession. And that obsession was centered on one giant of a human- a little brother who rebelled against his father and left, even though it meant leaving his brother behind; a man who wanted something more; a man who fought for the little guy. Gabriel continued to watch over Sam- through his addiction, his fears, the end-of-the-world-that-never-was, through everything, and while Gabriel watched, he fell a little more in love. By the time he saw Sam again- after “dying”, being controlled by Metatron, helping to rid Dean of the Mark- he was consumed by his feelings for Sam.

He chomped nervously on a green apple jolly rancher, waiting for Sam to come into the cheap motel room. With a squeak of the old, sagging hinges, Sam finally stomped in the door, stopping when he saw the angel waiting. “Gabriel?”he asked, voice unsure.

“Sure is, kiddo,” the angel responded, swallowing his nerves. 

“Gabriel!” Sam shouted, lunging across the room and yanking the shorter man into his arms. Gabriel, ever the trickster, twisted in the embrace so that he was face to face with Sam. Placing his palms on either side of the hunter’s surprised face, he planted a wet kiss on his lips, caution lost long years ago. When he pulled back, Sam’s face slowly shifted from blank incomprehension to disbelief to smug satisfaction. He pulled the angel up tighter, hands supporting his ass now, and smirked as Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

“I didn’t bring my climbing rope, Samster,” he griped. A few minutes later, after the pair fell onto the bed, Gabriel wasn’t complaining anymore.

~~

A/N: This is the little drabble I wrote for worrysam for cutie anon week.