29 and loving life... So when people are happy I am too :)
Cas mumbling in enochian when he sleeps. (◡‿◡✿)
Cas muttering in enochian when he gets frustrated. (◕‿◕✿)
Cas crying out in enochian when he’s being held down and fucked into the mattress. (⊙‿⊙✿)
are you kidding me…
The smile. That can kill me.
don’t forget this shit:
and prepare fore the perfect gif:
Destiel!AU; Dom!Cas and Sub!Dean
"You’re late." Castiel’s tone is as stoic as his face. He pauses, waiting for Dean to explain or apologize. Regardless of what path he takes, the outcome will be the same.
"I took a nap and my alarm didn’t go off in time and I—"
Cas holds his hand up, a silent order for Dean to stop, and crosses his legs, calmly. “Take off your pants.”
It is not a request. It’s an order.
Knowing he has already messed up, Dean doesn’t waste a second. He hastily unbuckles his belt and unfastens the button and fly on his jeans before sliding them down.
"That’s far enough," Castiel says, only when Dean’s pants and underwear are pooled around his ankles and the perfect curve of his bottom peaks out from beneath his shirt.
"Bring me your belt." Castiel remains seated but holds out his palm, watching quietly as Dean fishes the belt out from the loops of his jeans before shuffling over towards the arm chair with the denim still at his feet.
Dean places the belt in his dom’s hand and eyes him through dense lashes, brandishing that ‘kicked puppy’ look that he’s so good at.
"Bend over the armrest of the couch." Cas makes no effort to move immediately—not when Dean obliges him and starts walking over and not when he’s bent over with his legs spread shoulder distance apart and his face is buried in the pillows.
He takes his time fingering the leather in his hands, feeling the texture and perfecting his grip. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean rut against the furniture and tuts him.
"If you make a mess of my couch, you’re not coming tonight," Castiel threatens firmly, pushing up from the armchair and closing the distance between them with slow strides and composed footsteps.
Once he is within arms distance, he reaches forward and gives Dean’s hair a rough yank, hard enough to keep his neck craned back so he can speak directly into his ear.
"I know you, Dean. Rather than calling me and telling me you’d be late, you floored it over here. You were reckless.That is what is unacceptable. Do you understand?” Castiel’s lips brush over his sub’s ear, each exhale raising more and more goosebumps to the surface of his skin.
"Yes, I understand. I’m sorry," Dean breathes, closing his eyes and parting his lips. He lets his neck go limp—his head now solely held up by Castiel’s grip—and relishes in the pleasurable burn of his hair being pulled.
"Good boy," Cas praises, satisfied with his apology. He presses a barely there kiss to the man’s temple and releases him before straightening out again.
He smacks the belt together—something like a warning of what’s to come—and it connects with a harsh snap that has Dean correcting his posture immediately.
"Now, you’re going to count aloud. We’re going to ten."