#featuring: castiel (qapsiel)

[esoterium]

@qapsiel || random inbox starter! || always accepting!

"dean, there's a cowboy movie on tv."

there's not much going on. the hotel's in one of those tiny towns that's right out of some sorta horror novel. one stoplight to break up the monotony of nothing on the road but white dotted lines and tumbleweeds for days. sam's lucked out, though. with no one in sight for weeks, the weird owner with half his teeth in his front pocket gave them two rooms for the price of one. sure..it was a little shady of a deal and dean wondered if splitting them up was some sorta tactic out of hills have eyes but they had no idea who they were messing with if that was the case. or the arsenal that'd be greeting them if they tried to drag them off to their nuclear bunker full of messed up.

they've faced worse. let 'em have their space.

course cas showing up and being there? dean doesn't mind the company. he's hunched over the small two seater table by the window. hoagie from the truckstop (the only other open and functional business in town far as dean could tell) shoved in his mouth when cas points out the movie on the old enough for disco to still be king television. his ears perk up. few bites later and a swallow from his drink, dean's hopping up from the chair with a metallic clank and an arched brow shot back over his shoulder at the noise.

then with a toss of his body weight down on the bed, socked feet cross over one another and he huffs at his companion. "cowboy movie? this is more than a cowboy movie," a lowbrow look is given to the angel, "this is the good, the bad and the ugly. one of the best movies ever made. see that guy? that's clint eastwood. if we had him around? damn. our jobs would be so much easier," he muses shooting cas one of those little grins. "c'mon. take a load off and learn.."

[bloodsalted]

@qapsiel || inbox tappy tap! || zipping through some asks. pew pew!

"I do, like, a ton of coke here." (Endverse Cas obviously lmao)

the look on dean's face says it all. he's not too happy. not even a little bit. worried. down to his bones? yeah, that's more like it. and absolutely lost as hell on how to set cas back on some kind of trajectory that VAGUELY resembles normal. his hand comes to clasp a shoulder as he crouches down in front of him. now they're both close to the floor cas is sitting on. his back to a couch that kinda rivals the worst of the worst hotel rooms they were forced to live in when he was a kid. smells like it too. cheap fabric and REGRET.

and a whole lotta skunk weed.

he sniffs, gathering his thoughts. nose twitching as he does. gives cas a second to meet his eyes because the position he's in? the closeness? says he's not budging until he does. "the hell am i supposed to do to knock you out of this? you gotta help me a little bit here." he opens up. more than he has in a long time. by offering this small confession of weakness. of hurt. maybe even loneliness. "i'm lost, cas. can't do it if you don't let me.."

[bloodsalteds]

@qapsiel || mystery prompts: sinday action edition || accepting!

2 + 11, i'm going for broke and doing both! (including them in the actual post but not listing what they are so it doesn't spoil the post!)

they've done this together more than a few times now. shared some fantasies in whispered tones when all the lights've been blown out from their antics. sam's getting rooms to himself lately (a few doors down so he doesn't have to hear) and they have so much time to make up for. so many experiences to have. so many ways to enjoy each other that dean doesn't feel like there's enough time in every night they can take to fit it all in. cas is the same. always looking for more. always wanting more. it's sinful how much they crave one another. lust at it's finest. and dean couldn't care any less.

not when his wrists are now bound together above his head. cas's tie is laced around and through in loops that intertwine a metallic rung of the headboard. he's good at tying knots. impressive even. dean's hands aren't going anywhere. a shuddering breath parts tongue swept lips left glistening with spit. his head lifts, a gasp drawn through them when the angel's fingers close around a nipple pinching it lightly and he groans when he sees the blue in castiel's eyes darken as they flick up to meet his.

the stare holds dean in place. pulse thundering in his ear drums as his breath quickens, stomach trembling and his erection is thick and curved towards his belly. unable to move and barely able to get out anything more than a shaken murmur of cas's name, the hunter's toes curl before his knee opposite of where cas lays beside him bends and drags them across the much softer sheets compared to the hotel they were at last night. he needs him. needs him so fucking bad it HURTS.

"you're gonna be the end of me," he whines shakenly body arching towards the touch as his head falls back down--head turned in cas's direction as dazed eyes take in the sight of him, how the shadows play off a bare shoulder. god damn, was he gonna be.

[safetypinneds]

@qapsiel || MORE SMUTTY PROMPTS BUT WITH SOME PLOT FOR EXTRA SPICE 🔥|| accepting!

23)  one muse has little to no experience with sex and approaches the other more experienced muse to teach them. (sounds logical for Cas)

stunned. sam rests back against the headboard of his bed where, moments earlier, he was doing the same thing only reading through the book that was still sitting--now very much forgotten--in his palm. now? that sedaris novel is a forgotten but present weight in his grip. one that jerks his attention towards it when he drops it onto his lap without taking his gaze off cas. he just..kinda remembers that the book was there cause he dropped it like dead weight. forgotten. til it isn't.. mouth open, his head tilts.

yes. cas approached him so matter of fact, as one would expect. very befitting of what one might expect from the angel. blunt and to the point. as anyone would expect castiel to be. just. the proposition that sam now faces was nothing expected. ever. and even though this pause only lasts for a few SECONDS to let the question and the reasoning sink into the younger winchester's brain--he manages to blink. once. twice. cas wants to learn more about sex. has already rationalized dean away and now stands inside his room--door closed--saying he knows sam would be a better teacher. more patient. sorta like how he asked him to show him how to work a cellphone properly. a splash of color dusts itself over the bridge of a pointed nose. spreads over his cheeks but the wide, toothy smile and little puff of air that escapes. says the idea isn't unwelcome. nor is he laughing at cas. he's just.. sam. flustered, in a good way, but understanding.

a color on his skin born out of a pulse that picks up with the images that he has in his head. long legs clad in black sweatpants with their openings loose at the bottom swing over the edge. he picks the book off his stomach and sets it aside on the nearby nightstand. fingers rest on his stomach. pressed against the soft, well washed and worn fabric of a dark gray t-shirt in an attempt to sooth the butterflies that beat their wings against the walls inside. expression soft as he comes to stand in front of cas, long fingered hands lift and cup both of cas's cheeks. fingertips graze over his cheekbones then spread until he's able to guide his head back just enough that when he leans in their noses touch.

"you're sure you want this from..me," he asks in the dark space between them. warm breath moving over cas's mouth. sam brushes their noses together, presses a kiss to the corner of the angel's mouth and feels fireworks go off in his chest. okay. okay. that's.. okay. wow. a crease of discovery forms between his brows. "tell me what you want to learn.." sam's seen and done a lot of surreal things in his lifetime. surreal's sorta what they do. but this? this is a whole new brand of it..and be damned if it barely feels real. yet. ULTRA REAL all at once.

[lasthymn]

@qapsiel || action prompts for leaning || accepting!

[ hair ] sender leans in to fix receiver's hair

it's the middle of the night. there's a silver blue glow coming from the television. the monotone voice of a narrator fills the room. he finds it soothing. it's a good voice. he sounds nice.

fingers curl and uncurl against the insides of his ankles. sitting crisscross applesauce on the sofa, blue eyes peeled to the television set. he seems to be absorbing everything he's watching. whether or not that's good or bad? welp. that's up to the question of what is on television. and that'd be what was playing when he switched it on. the first 48. a murder documentary show detailing what happens in the first 48 hours after a killing takes place. a worried expression is stamped on his brow. confusion settles in deep with a frown.

"this isn't what people should do to each other. they were only doing their job when the perp decided to take their money. he didn't have to kill them. but these people are have 48 hours to use science to find him and bring him to justice. and they do it every time.. at the last minute. just like---," us.

palm digs into his eye socket, the heel of his wrist used to chase away the tired that's seeped into his bones. the sofa budges when cas joins him. his hair's a mess from shifting all around. it hangs in his eyes when he turns his attention to the angel sitting beside him. gentle fingers reach towards his brow. jack doesn't budge when cas starts fixing his hair. a warm smile chases the thoughtful expression. turns it into nothing but adoration. "thank you..." the gesture's mirrored. long fingers swipe through castiel's hair at the top of his head. "there. now yours is fixed, too.."

his head tilts to the side. gaze wandering over cas's. "is there something on your mind?"

[safetypinned]

😈

@murderdeals || crowley sends 😈 what does your character do? || this. (feat. @qapsiel)

sms // crowley ::

[bloodsaltedshifting]

@qapsiel || nightamres & sleeping meme || accepting!

[TUCK] - for sender to find receiver’s muse asleep somewhere and tuck them in with a blanket (or jacket, etc) - he uses his trench coat 🥺

dean's curled up on the sofa of some cheap hotel room. the bed covered in research, ammunition and a mess of other junk that he was too damn exhausted to bat away once he stumbled in for the night. exhaustion made every inch of his body feel heavy enough that each step must've been taken in a pair of concrete boots. his hair was an absolute disaster. a weary body and an even warier mind. only one boot was kicked off and when the other put up too much of a fight? he let it stay on. why argue, he figured. and simply let it have it's way.

he doesn't budge at castiel's entrance. it speaks mountains about the level of safety that he feels from the angel that something internal wasn't triggered in the hunter when someone else entered. much less came close enough that the coat was fanned out and brought down over him like a blanket. dean ends up squirming underneath it. settling in. tucking his chin towards the collar and inhaling deep. his body seems to sink more into the cushions. relaxing further and more solid than he was a second ago without it. the scent lulling him into a place that, perhaps, only it can do.

though when castiel rights himself again. even takes to making a slight distance between them, he's stopped by a hand curling around his wrist. dean doesn't open his eyes. "don't go. stay," comes out groggy. whiskey scented from the swig he had on the way past the table to the sofa. the way he tugs the angel while leaning back into the back cushions says he's making enough room for the two of them to fit if they face one another.

it's a request that doesn't come easy. a trust that comes even less so. but it's here as green eyes crack open. sleep riddled and dream touched before they close again. "with me."

[hellspell]

@qapsiel || meme continuation || from here!

"wouldn't dream of it, handsome. come sit with me. let's forget about poor fergus. i'm sure he's keeping himself busy somewhere. it's you i want to hear about. tell me everything you've been up to since we've spent time together." she wants to know all the dirt.

[bloodsalted]

@qapsiel 😁

[bloodsalted]

dean would like to say that @qapsiel hanging out with his dead body is very much NOT THE SAME as when he hung out with sam's trying to figure out what the hell he was gonna do. okay?? TOTALLY different circumstances! he was in denial and guilt and it was sammy. (okay so what if he was starting to get a lil ripe? still SAMMY just a ripe sammy!!!) not his own dead ass, alright?! don't believe cas when he says it's the same thing. cause.. that's a lie.

[bloodsalteds]

@qapsiel || location based smut prompts || accepting!

while driving home after a date,  they get too impatient and pull into a parking lot to have sex. (IMPALA SEX OK)

the parking lot of an abandoned drive in? well. sure does set the setting for what dean's got in mind. musta been watching cas drive that got him riled up. (as if he needs a reason). but he gave the angel directions towards the broken road with it's cracks in the pavement letting wildflowers bloom through and then? well. he didn't really have a whole lot of room to do much talking after.

because cas's zipper is down and dean's bent over in the front seat with him in his mouth, sucking against his tip with a quiet groan. they gotta be close to it by now. not that he cares. not with that taste coating his tongue and the moan he lets go warm and quiet over cas's shaft as he pulls back to run his tongue down the length of it.

fingers grip the inside of cas's thigh through his pants. the other set? that's busy spread out over cas's abdomen stroking softly as he feels the car do a jerky turn that's gotta be onto the road off the main highway. they're almost there. he doesn't stop. doesn't give him any reprieve as his lips wrap back around him again and swallow the angel down as far as he can with a soft choke fluffing the edges of his nose out.

fuck. his mind's reeling as he bobs his head in slow, exploratory strokes. tongue pressed tight against the hardening ridge. dean's throat works around the saliva and the overwhelming flavor that he couldn't stop himself from having for the entire ride back. eyelids flutter closed and he sinks into sating the craving that's twisting him up inside. christ. he can't get enough of him. and now that they're doing this? he has every chance to make up for lost time. ...every second of it.

[safetypinned]

@qapsiel || prompts that make me go 👀 || accepting!

[ SHIELD ]:     in order to protect them from physical harm caused by a third party, the sender shoves the receiver against the wall and shields them with their body.

his hand's getting a little shaky holding onto the handle of the blade he pulled from inside his jacket once he ran out of bullets and his taurus was frickin' useless. sam's got a hell of a lot of blood outside his body. even for someone of his size. it runs down his cheek. the corner of his eye, mouth and other questionable places that shouldn't have meat exposed yet.. thanks to claws and knives and all the fun stuff the shadows in the corner came at him with. en masse. instructed by sight-unseen. yet. he's getting woozy by the time their leader makes himself known. not with being caught a look at. he's still unseen when sam doubles over. free hand coming up to smash in the socket of one eye while the other grips the knife tighter, swiping blindly up to his side like he almost shoved the blade in his other socket before he remembered he was holding a weapon.

black smoke swirls around sam's frame, inky and thick, before it jolts through the air. towards one of the humans sam took down--or swore he did. only, it begins to sit up and crack his neck to the left and right. like someone who's gotta shake off a nasty cramp. 'sam, sam, sam,' the voice mutters as the hunter doubles twice while scrambling to keep his footing. gold-rimmed irises are blown wide inside pained hazel eyes that stare towards the blurry image of the figure as it stands. 'what am i going to do with you,' black eyes glisten in the dim light. a twisted smile screws itself onto lips dripping with sarcasm. "better figure it out before i do what i'm gonna do with you," the younger winchester chokes out. defiant. the demon twitches it's hand. sends sam into a growling howl as another gash appears across the side of his neck. so so close to the jugular but not quite. a show of force.

sam's reeling, gasping to catch air, when he feels fingers curling around the wrist of his right hand. supernatural strength keeps him from attacking as he's shoved against the wall and, "cas???," comes crashing right in front of him. chest to chest. the angel's free palm pushes him back up onto his feet just as the demon comes rushing towards the pair and the other four dead all begin to rise.

[bloodsalted]

// OH MY GOD!!!!! (also.. icb cas called him out like that. the scandal!!!)

[bloodsaltedshifting]

@qapsiel || assorted angst prompts || accepting!

🍺  my muse is using an unhealthy coping method (drugs, alcohol, etc, sender specifies) to alleviate their stresses or sorrows (ah yes, a tiny bit of endverse Cas, who used about everything from absinthe to weed to amphetamines)

worry encapsulates dean's features as he kicks an empty bottle of absinthe out of his pathway. another's lifted and put to the tip of his nose and inhaled before he dropped it to the ground and toed it out of the way too. a soft sigh parts his lips, green eyes taking in the scenery of the dark motel room. the air is as stale as the liquor at the bottom of the bottles and the drugs sticking to the insides of the pipes and papers littered around the room.

this isn't right. this isn't supposed to be this way.

dean blanches at the smell. a hand reaches for the overhead light above the table when he doesn't see anyone in the bed. he hasn't called out a name. or done much else to make his presence known other than letting himself into the room with nothing more than a paperclip trick. cheap places like this? aren't up to par on the ol' security measures. no fancy card swipes that make anything a little more difficult.

that's where he finds him. passed out in a chair. a mess of empty glasses and other things that make dean's stomach drop and tighten. lips press together and his chest caves in. the air that rushes out of his nose comes from the pit of his gut. he rounds the table, weary gaze combing over cas's features. he looks like the room. a stale, tattered mess. fingers come out and push through the dark strands of hair on the top of his head. they're bedhead anyway. not gonna do them much harm.

"hey stranger. nice place ya got going on here.. giving raoul duke a run for his money, huh? can't say the look suits ya.."

[bloodsalted]

"Please stop teaching Jack curses. He uses the word bitch without even knowing what it means."

"i'm sure he's using it just fine. i double-checked that he knew when to toss it out and how. did he throw up a peace sign or hit his chin with the side of his pointer, fingers up and his thumb tucked in, when he did it? made sure to teach him both of those for extra spiciness should be partake in the forbidden words." queue the happiest little chuckle without a shred of guilt. simply just doused in pure entertainment.

[bloodsalteds]

@qapsiel || send me 'good boy' and see how my character reacts || accepting!

"GOOD BOY." 😏

they're in the moutains of montana. close to where their next case was gonna be but still a ways out. not a soul in sight when they pulled over to see the stars that were so bright, so damn many of them that the sky was full. brilliant. beautiful and overwhelming to stare up into. dean found himself falling in love with the sky all over again. barely able to get out anything but a gasp and a murmur about watching for falling stars before cas's hand was in his hair and their noses brushed each others. the hunter saw his own stars behind his eyelids a breath later. when castiel's mouth claimed his and he tasted the familiar flavor of his lover's tongue slipping between his lips.

summer's in full swing. the air outside, even though it's night, is warm but the breeze feels cool against dean's bare skin. cas is perched on the hood of his beloved impala. barely a stitch of clothing missing from the angel's body. his tie's been pulled loose. a few buttons around it were undone just to free up some space for dean's mouth to explore earlier. tongue and mouth devouring what he could reach before he was turned around. pulled back and castiel rid him of his pants and boxer briefs in a few tugs of a belt, buttons and zipper. cas's hand on him squeezes. and dean's so hard he can barely take it. a groan cracks his lips open. they remain that way as his head falls forward and he does himself a huge tease by looking down.

the moon's so round and shining that he can see it clearly. how cas's hand wraps around him perfectly. deft thumb circling his tip, making dean's toes curl against the soles of his boots. "cas," his voice is pitched as a moan ghosts after the name that pours over his tongue. he can barely move with that other arm across his chest--pinning him back against cas's chest so tight he can feel the angel breath. not only across the shell of his ear where his lips are. but against his back, too.

fingers that've memorized every way (so far, there are plenty more--they haven't been doing this for too long) of wringing out moans and gasps and other noises from him continue their slow, steady stroke. dean's hips start to buck into the touch. seeking more friction. when the angel's hand picks up the pace, dean's brows buckle towards each other. and then it's breathed into his ear.. 'good boy...' by a voice that's velvet and rough blended together to make it dean’s favorite sound. one that his whole body reacts to. perfect. it sends chills up his spine. everything inside of him feels like it's swimming. dizzy. higher and higher, that pleasure balls up in his gut. runs warm through his veins. his hips buck and twitch. (he can't help it) what that did to him? shoots up his spine, has him gasping and moaning thick and heavy. "i'm..," he can't get it out. he doesn't want him to stop. please don't stop. "..harder. i need.. i need to come!" he cries out following with a whimper, "please...." and no one around to see but the crickets and an observant owl? yes. don't stop. indeed.