#murderdeals . . . cain

[qapsiel]

" I saw that. You could just have come in, you know? " - bee bro

"I wanted to ensure you don't have company before I came in. You know, like that lady from the fruit stand. At the farmer's market? She told her friend she knows where you live and that she wants to ravish you. I'm sure in the non-rapey way."

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme town, population so many || zoooom!

"Yeah, I remember when I was like you. Young, dumb, full of… conflicting emotions." Cain

"you say conflicting emotions. i say.. welcome to wrestlemania three hunderd twenty two!! for our first match? in one corner we got avoiding talking about that last part all together. in the other? i'm matching your young and dumb with old and dusty!"

[eyeless-smiles]

NSFW headcanon: Corinthian has a Cain kink because even getting stabbed in the dick doesn't deter him from kissing that dude 😂

Fellas is it gay to be attracted to the embodiment of murder? r/relationshipadvice

I (6000+, M) am the physical manifestation of humanitys darkness and I'm obsessed with the worlds first murderer (6000+??? M). Is it weird that I find him attractive when he essentially kickstarted the very element of the human psyche I represent?

@murderdeals

[lasthymn]

@murderdeals || send "you're not what i expected..." for my muse's reaction || accepting!

sunshine illuminates their faces. his arms feel the heat grazing over his skin. he loves the sensation of being out in the open air. underneath the sky. dots of clouds here and there. white, puffy fluffs that occasionally pass by the sun and provide a glimpse of shade before moving on. the air is clean here. not like in the towns or cities that he visits alone. or with his family. there's peace in the solitude and distances out here on cain's farm.

castiel told him about this place before they came here. more than once. he's heard stories about cain. about his creatures. and vegetables. about his bee farm that castiel loves and adores. about the chickens and goats. how the trees are high and alive and stand proud inside fertile soil that's tended to with meticulous care. he was so excited when cas asked him if he wanted to come along on this visit. he said yes in a dozen nods before he could get the word out.

jack is barefoot as he walks along the dirt road cutting through the horse pasture. careful not to step in anything he might not appreciate being stuck between his toes. he can't seem to take his eyes off of a mare that's caught his attention. there's a look of utter adoration on his face for the creature. castiel allowed him some time alone with cain. to get to know him better. and this was only the beginning of their conversation.

'you're not what i expected.' this is not the first time jack has heard this. he doesn't mind being told he's something different than what people originally thought about him. there's yet to be a bad experience along with the words. the mare is now within arms reach. after meeting his eyes for a while, the pair seemed to exchange some sort of conversation that brought jack to a stop. one hand reaches out. fingers touch along her velvet nose. he grins from ear to ear. "tell me, cain. what did you think of me? i wish i could say the same. but castiel has spoken so warmly of you. i can see where he forms the opinion. this place.. your home? it's beautiful. it suits every word he's said.."

[snnynatural]

@murderdeals

"cain,  wait."  sonny  spoke  up  as  she  spotted  the  man  not  too  far  out.  not  expecting  to  even  see  him  around  outside  of  the  safehouse.  but  she  was  on  a  hunt  and  he  so  happens  to  be  around.  maybe  they  were  hunting  the  same  thing?  or  maybe  he  just  so  happened  to  be  in  the  area,  either  way,  she  had  some  things  to  say.  especially  after  he  saved  her  from  the  hunters  that  tortured  her. 

by  the  time  she  was  in  front  of  him,  she  nibbled  on  her  lower  lip,  "thank  you..  you  know,  for  saving  me."  bruises  and  gashes  no  longer  imprinted  on  her  skin,  "also  for  helping  me  get  all  cleaned  up  and  rested.  i  want  you  to  know  i  really  appreciate  it."

[theirmadness]

congrats, @murderdeals! you're a dad. ♡

nothing, and she means, nothing, has happened to rowena's body without her explicit consent in the last two centuries. so, it comes as much of a shock to her, as she's certain it would to him. she seems... a little on edge. unlike herself. this isn't her first rodeo. back then, she had been ill-prepared. was she ready, now? ❝ it seems i've... fallen pregnant, my darling. that's what's been bothering me. it's been at least two hundred years since i last had morning sickness. ❞

[safetypinned]

@murderdeals || 'it should've been me' prompts || accepting!

" you did what you could. " Cain

"did i..?" sam folds the corner of the label he's peeled back on the beer bottle then pushes the gluey, sticky paper back in place. folds it again. rinse and repeat. gaze flicks up to meet his from where he's leaning against the back of a chair sitting on cain's front porch. there's a gnawing in the pit of sam's stomach. everpresent now. where it used to wax and wane with how much time between one tragedy after another they were given. that heaviness is settling in again. like it did. years ago. digging its claws in and refusing to let go; doubt. especially self-doubt? is one hell of a battle to fight. sometimes. he thinks about just letting himself lose.

maybe that's why he showed up here. alone. seeking.. well.. maybe someone to drag him back to earth. out of his head. where his worst enemies always lie in wait.

"i'm not so sure. ever have that feeling that there's something more you should've done? something more that you could've done? where you're not even sure what it's about. where you could've zigged when you zagged. it's just there. all the time. and i can't get rid of it.."

[aintashes]

@murderdeals' cain said: ❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

cain is a fleeting presence. never one to stay too long or talk too much, he's still basically a stranger. and that's fine— daryl has never pushed him to tell him anything about himself, and although he's offered to take cain to one of the coalition's nearby communities, he's always been met with refusal. cain is clearly satisfied with doing as he pleases, and so long as he doesn't become a pain in the ass, daryl is content to leave him be.

and yet, they find themselves stumbling upon one another out here beyond any community's walls with some frequency. it's the only reason they've ever had more than a single conversation with each other— and it just so happens that most of the time, whenever cain comes upon him in his travels, daryl happens to look a little worse for wear.

‘ seems t'me like you got bad timin'. s'either that or you're followin' me. ’

sarcasm lightly colors his words as he pulls the string of his bow into place, notching a bolt into its deadly groove. cain has caught him in the aftermath of a fight with several walkers, their dark viscera staining his skin and clothes in thick splotches.

[whisperial]

@murderdeals || a meme continuation || from here.

leaves and dirt between her toes. a soft, plush pathway that cuts through familiar woods she has called her own for many years. fingertips dance against thick bark as she passes by one tree after another. green eyes gaze towards the fields just past the forest line where a farm's been haunting this place for years now. there's peace here. in the quiet early morning with the sun dotting through a canopy of plush leaves overhead. streaks of white yellow sunshine cut through the mists. it's beautiful. harmonic. perfect the way it is. untouched by time. tended to with care.

she's come and gone as she pleases. drifting through this landscape on her way to this or that place she calls home. whether it be a small cottage miles from here. or somewhere else in another part of these vast woods completely. or a little home in salem, massachusetts that houses her family and those like her. but these woods? she prefers them. where she can come and go undetected. unbothered.

until today.

she's watching a doe tend to her foal inside the protection of a blackberry bush so big that it's formed a home when she hears footsteps approach. her first idea is to dash away. quickly. but that would only disturb the deer. birdie's hands wring into the fabric of a well-crafted but weather worn patchwork skirt. she turns, lifting her finger and pressing it against her lips to gesture for the man to be quiet. he ignores her and sends both mother and child running into the woods. a scowl mars her face when she turns her attention back to him.

she's seen him before. rather the form of him. past the trees. never once approaching but watching. til he was out of earshot. then she'd disappear. "your property," she asks--her voice thick with an accent out of place. one born from an ocean away in the moors this place reminds her so much of. "ah. yes. yes. i am quite happily on my way home. thank you. but this patch of woods? i'm very fond of. you say they belong to you?" a smile. like she damn near sympathizes with him. "i suppose i would be protective if they were mine, too. pity. you're certain we can't share? my woods and your woods."

[qapsiel]

@murderdeals in response to pie

                            CASTIEL NEVER REALLY LEARNED HOW TO COOK OR BAKE. What for? He doesn't eat, after all, and even his brief stint as a human did not offer much education because he lacked a kitchen to try out recipes. And you don't really need much skill to make a peanut butter sandwich. But the prospect of learning how to make a pie, arguably one of Dean's favorite dishes in the world, has him eagerly standing in Cain's kitchen, throwing flour and butter and eggs and, apparently, salt instead of sugar into a bowl and mixing it vigorously. 

                            The result is terrible on a molecular level and, given Cain's face, on all other levels, too. "What?" he asks with a frown, "why would too much salt indicate that someone is in love?" That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and yet Castiel apparently behaved according to the saying. He glares at the bowl of dough. "It's just a pie." For Dean. Oh well.

[bloodsalted]

@murderdeals || meme continuation || from here.

dean throws another rock into the lake and pulls his feet up so that his knees bend. free arm wraps around his shins as he watches the stone skip a few beats across the water. ploop , ploop, ploop! splash! then disappear leaving only circular ripples stemming out in it's wake. all around the farm, life continues. animals. plants. trees. they're surrounded with it. dean breathes freely here. the air is clean. pure. he knows he can't stay long. won't let himself stay long. life's too easy here. the temptation for something SIMPLE too great. he knows he can't have simple.

" i did. pride, though? i'm not good at pride. maybe at one point," his shoulders hitch. he thinks he used to be good at lying to himself about pride. ego. least when he was himself. easy way to cover up all the times he doubted himself the WORST. but pride? in himself? shallow and fleeting at best. maybe a handful of moments. but most of them include someone else there with him. his features twist into a look of confusion. he's wracking his brain trying to find an honest answer to thoughts he's rustling through. "what i want in my head versus what's in there, though? that's always been it's own FIGHT."

[eyeless-smiles]

👏🏻 Cain :D

send me    ‘ 👏🏻 ‘    for my muse’s reaction to yours sarcastically applauding a failure of theirs

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The Nightmare hisses with scowling agony written across his face as he stumbles out of the entryway of a secluded house. Protected by miles of dense forest. It is the perfect hideout for the otherworldly. And a possible lead worth investigating for Cain's immortal predicament.

But the issue with dealing with supernatural creatures is that on rare occasions, someone knows how to deal with Nightmares.

It is a pretty rudimentary trap- but a fucking painful one. Silver wire lined with intricate ancient sigils. It snares around the Corinthian's body like vice- pinning his left arm against his chest, and his right unable to be raised. How the monster stumbles down the gravel path, one could mistake him for the living dead. Contorted and jerking erratically as the Nightmare tries to break free from the magical snare.

The magic drains. Sapping everything from him like a leech. Ocular maws groan as it collapses to its knees. The silver bindings tighten, searing against his skin where it manages to cut through cloth.

The preoccupied Nightmare's mind at first doesn't register the clapping. But the heavy grind of boots on gravel and the rhythmic beat slowly grabs his attention. Forcing the Creation to raise its head with difficulty. The muscles in his neck spasm. His jaw set impossibly tight, yet he still manages a distasteful grimace towards Cain's attitude.

"Get it off-."

@murderdeals

[awkwardcourage]

@murderdeals | cont.

" The vast majority of people I've met in my long life wouldn't muster the measure of bravery it takes to say that to my face. "

Hughie would have usually counted himself among the vast majority of those people. Most of the time, he was very keen on staying alive and could put up with the impotent fury sickening his insides if it meant surviving. There were times, though, where something just had to give. Rage overcame survival instincts and Hughie ran his mouth like he had nothing left to lose.

Cain raises a finger and Hughie subtly flinches, half expecting lightning to shoot out of the tip; but nothing of the sort happens. Just a nod of something indescipherable, something concerningly like approval. "Maybe you'd have been a better person if someone had." He can feel the anger start to slip and soon he'll regret everything he's said here, but for now, he'll keep riding this wave.

[snnynatural]

“ be quiet, they’re gonna catch us—” Cain (spice or risky mission, your choice 😗)

nsfw prompts that don’t sound like a bad porno

if  someone  told  sonny  she  would  be  in  this  situation  with  a  demon,  let  alone  a  former  knight  of  hell,  then  she  wouldn't  believe  them.  there  were  still  questions  flooding  her  mind  with  how  the  two  ended  up  where  they  were.  one  moment  they  were  sitting  at  the  bar  chatting  once  she  closed  up  the  safehouse.  opening  up  just  a  little  more.  a  heart  to  heart.  the  next  here  they  were,  in  the  room  he  occupied  for  some  time  that  she  had  reserved  for  him.

clothes  on  the  floor,  bare  bodies  on  the  bed  pressed  against  the  other.  touches  are  gentle.  warm.  almost  memorizing  and  tracing  every  part  of  the  skins.  each  thrust  causing  small  whimpers  and  moans  to  escape  the  huntress  as  fingertips  dug  into  his  shoulder.  “be  quiet,  they're  going  to  catch  us-”  his  words  spoken  as  she  nodded.  teeth  sunken  onto  her  lower  lip  to  prevent  any  sound  to  roll  off  her  tongue.  burying  her  face  into  his  neck  and  pressing  soft  kisses  against  his  skin.  holding  back  ont  he  sounds  of  pleasure  that  wanted  to�� escape  her  lips.

[theirmadness]

congrats, @murderdeals! you're a dad. ♡

❝ what, you can't smell it on me? you really are losing your touch. the hormones are so potent they're making me choke. ❞ she places a hand on her stomach, a smile that's almost loving on her red lips. it's as close to an emotion that positive as something like abaddon can come to, even in such a situation. ❝ i didn't think it'd be possible, either. but what can i say? i suppose it's our little hellish miracle. ❞

[bornbreathless]

“ ‘I mean this offensively’ is the most you thing you’ve ever said. ” Cain

@murderdeals

"What, was I supposed to act like I was giving constructive criticism? Sadly there really is no hope for some people, and demons are no exception, really it's kinder to just be up-front about that."

She flicks an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder, as if the demon smoking out of its - she prods the body with her toe - incredibly dead host might have left some kind of residue on her freshly laundered jacket.

"Besides," she continues, stepping over the corpse and offering an amused grin that hardly seems appropriate for the situation. "It's not my fault they messed up their summoning. Obviously no-one ever told them that handwriting matters when it comes to glyphs, otherwise your summoning circle might as well be made of tissue paper. What are they teaching them in Hell these days?"