destieldrabblesdaily:

FRIENDLY REMINDER that September 18th is here AKA the day Dean officially met Cas for the first time and planets stopped turning and sparks were LITERALLY flying

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HAPPY DESTIEL DAY!


OPEN RP DESTIEL ALPHA/OMEGA VERSE

theofficialdemon-dean:

alyxrush:

theofficialdemon-dean:

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Dean sat in the shop, having just ordered his pie, and was obviously impatient. He continuously checked his phone, qorried that Sam woulsn’t call him back. He had forgotten that morning to let Sam know that he was going into his Rut cycle tomorrow and didn’t know if Sammy was synced with him…

His brothers pester him often about this, truly it’s just another thing he hates hearing from them.
An aging unmated Omega. Perhaps the only tolerable sibling he’d go to see when it’s unbearable was Gabriel.
Sick of Michael or Lucifer, Castiel would seek refuge with Gabriel who was at least a beta. It wasn’t much better honestly, for what Gabriel lacked in being a overbearing brother he made up for in sheer obnoxiousness. 

This wouldn’t be the case this time though. Gabriel had plans involving an Omega he was infatuated with, and clearly stated he couldn’t be interrupted.

So Castiel- annoyed, agitated, and fed up with being told where to be and when and what time— gets off work and storms for a bar he often passes on the way home.

He’s fuming from another long drawn out call from his mother, and Michael— who should have been off managing another branch instead of loitering in the accounting offices—

'Youll never find a suitable mate with that attitude-'

'You should be more sub servant, Castiel, you scare away suitors-'

'Youre wasting your potential here, we want grandchildren-'

'Why can you not be more polite-'

'Perhaps a matchmaker-'

'—only concerned you'll be uncared for—'

It made him grind his teeth as he huffed, opening the doors to head in.

The Roadhouse. It’s a dim place that smells of leather and wood polish. It’s sparse in patrons, not that he’ll complain. He’s here for a drink in rebellion and partially to give a proverbial ‘fuck you’ (as Gabriel would say) to his family who would be aghast that he’s in such a place without ‘protection’.

He doesn’t need a ‘Alpha’ for protection.


Not that he’s opposed. He fights the fight with his family, against the expectation and pressure. However, Castiel doesn’t hate the idea. He’s only shared his bed on occasion. The problem is no one is just…./enough/. A night of hollow pleasure was entertaining the one or two times he had in college, but he would rather not be mated to any knot that can find his hole.
It shouldn’t work that way. Castiel may be an omega, but he wants something to click. He wants something interesting.

That’s not going to come through with Michael or his mother and a matchmaker, heaven forbid. 

An attractive blonde bartender smiles at him as he orders, just a rum and coke, before she looks at him curiously and walking off.

He feels a little warm under his collar, so Castiel sheds his trench coat and drapes it over his brief case in the chair beside him. 
He can feel multiple eyes on him but chooses to ignore it, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, dismantling his tie and undoing a few buttons so he’s comfortable.

When his drink comes, the glass is like ice, freezing to the touch. The blue eyed man took a long drink, relief hitting his parched throat. He didn’t realize he had been so thirsty?

The bar has music playing off to the side from a old juke box, something he finds he likes. The omega is half contemplating going to investigate when he feels goosebumps a wave of something…..almost too divine reaching him. Under all the leather and whiskey and polish of the bar.

Rich. Sweet like burning wood, cedar and clove. Something else in it he doesn’t have the pallet to identify, too far away. It’s spicy and easily addictive even though it’s muted.

He turns sharply, looking around the bar. He sees a few glances at him- but they don’t measure up.

No. Not like when he finds himself looking up across the bar at a man with brilliant green eyes starring into him.

It’s him, his chest hammers, he’s the one. 

It takes less then a second for him to know the man is a alpha. Broad shoulders, handsome face, long lashes and lips he can’t help looking at.

It’s a strange sensation he feels and does not recognize. He is only a stranger. A stranger that Castiel is now noticing he’s been starring at for a few minutes now.

He looked away, back to his drink and asked for another, still feeling warm. 

"Is the heating on?" He asks the blonde bartender when she slides him another drink.
His voice comes out rougher then he intended.

Dean was in a trance. He was left staring into brilliant blue eyes, unable to look away. And oh my god, 

The smell. 

He felt his nostrils scent the air, instinct telling him to go over right now and claim him. But he knew that would be wrong. 

But that sense of wrongness was beginning to fade as he felt his head become dizzy with the ammount of pheramone in the air. 

"Hellloooooo, Dean????? your pie???" The waitress waived a hand in front of his face. Dean snapped his head up, still feeling complelled to look back at the other male. 
Uh yeah, yo. Im here.” He couldn’t recognize his own voice, deep and ravelly, animalistic, he realized with a start. 

He heard Jo sit down across from him. 

"you smell him don’t you?" Deans eyes widened in shock. 

"What are you..?" 

"I have been able to tell since he walked in, he’s on an immensly strong start too, his heat started after he sat down." 

Dean couldn’t help himself anmore, he looked, and noticed the blue eyed boy was still staring at him, just the same as before. He raked his eyes down the dark ,messy haired stranger, his blue eyes boring into his heart and soul, looking through him, permeating his thoughts. Jo got up then, walking over to the stranger wit hthe beautful full lips and gorgeous face. She bega nspeaking wit hhim, he asked her a few questions. 

Dean stood, unable to control his urge, and walked to the bathroom as fast as he could, understanding that he gave the man an invitation raking up and down his body the way he just had. Dean rushed int othe nearest stall, leaning heavily against the door as he thought about the stanger with such soulful eyes. 

Unable to stop, he unzipped his pants, pulling out his dick as he imagined those lucious lip wrapped around it in place of his hand. He thought of how the man would mewl underneath him in pleasure as he rutted int ohim, over and over again, until the heat cycle was over a week later. 

And finally dea ngroaned, releasing himself in his own hand, grunting out unitelligable words, and only one on his breath, a name he had decided was fitting for the stranger. 

"….Angel…" 

Dean felt a familiar sensation run through him, he didn’t usually think like this. He had never thought of claiming an another in this way. 

Thta’s when it hit him. 

"Fuck." he muttered under his breath. He reached int ohis pocket for his cell phone. 

'FUCK!” His cell was still on the table out there!!! 

And he definetely could NOT  go out there to an omega in heat when he was in his rut. 

Absolutely not. 

But he had to. 

He sighed, and made his resolve, stepping out of the bathroom and int othe diner, where the smell had gotten even stronger. The smell of Honey and something else underneath, something enticing, making his mouth water. 

The alpha gets up and walks away, a heated glance. The blonde says something he can’t process because he’s struck by the insistent urge to follow—-

It’s dawning on him slowly. The hot body- the way he’s able to scent the green eyed stranger from across the room. How thirsty and somewhat high strung he feels, something nagging just under his skin. All of it.

Is he in heat?

Quickly he looked around, startled. Eyes are still on him- the bar seems to be mostly betas, a couple alphas that seem particularly interested but remain seated, just watching.

He’s going to have to walk home but…

Why? He’s not due for a heat for a another few weeks?

Stress? But that seems like a weak reason- There is hardly anymore stress now then there ever is.

He finished his last drink,paying the tab as another wave of heat rushed him, even his knees feeling it. With this wave he could feel moisture settling. Slick dripping and pooling in his slacks.

A part of him is mortified.

This has never happened in public. He should have been more careful—-

Just as he’s backing up, collecting his things, he hits solid mass, stumbling with a patron trying to leave.

His apologies die on his tongue, scent washing over him and sticking to his skin.
He wants to be scent marked by it.

Blue eyes look up at the green eyed alpha he had noticed across the bar before, dilating as he sees the man scent the air. scenting him.
Most likely the cause being that this alphas perfect scent has caused more of his natural lubricant to from him.

Castiel is just starring, throat tight, “Apologies,” he finally says unevenly, eyes looking over the mans body and back up, slightly flushing at the obviousness of it.

Carefully he bent down to gather his things, eyes looking up to see the motion was not unnoticed, rich dark scent thicker.

Oh.

Cas stood leaning forward, always the one to forget personal space. He scented, eyes almost rolling back before simply stating,” you’re in rut….”

He’s never been this close to a alpha in rut- do they always smell this perfect?

They’re suppose to be dangerous? All instinct? Castiel doesn’t feel fear, but intrigue, the omega almost dizzy from it.



posted 17 hours ago with 55,726 notes (via / source)

Today i reached 1000 followers and i wanted to thank all of you, everyone of you that chose to follow and like and encourage the things i make, the fandom, the community— all of it helps me get through my days and i wish i could show you what it means to me, im very happy and very very lucky i have caught the attention of each of you.

Thank you!


Destiel Folk Music AU: Slow Burn

Dean Winchester has a voice like whiskey on ice, smile sweet like molasses, but nothing can pin him down, not anymore. Life on the road dominates his adult life, attachments are secondary and unnecessary.

Cas is a craftsman with talents based in instruments, skillful hands and a voice based in deep delta blues. The catch is that he doesn’t have a memory of most of his life up to his young adult age.

A Man with no past and a man with too much meet in Graceton, Colorado- Dean’s hometown and Cas’s new one - their different views on life pull them together and challenge the beliefs they hold to be true.

Thank you stagsam for the summary.

Listen: X 

This is a fic being worked on, well keep you updated :)

"Easy there, Brother,"

Gadreel that i was inspired to draw because of shieldofeden


OPEN RP DESTIEL ALPHA/OMEGA VERSE

theofficialdemon-dean:

image

Dean sat in the shop, having just ordered his pie, and was obviously impatient. He continuously checked his phone, qorried that Sam woulsn’t call him back. He had forgotten that morning to let Sam know that he was going into his Rut cycle tomorrow and didn’t know if Sammy was synced with him…

His brothers pester him often about this, truly it’s just another thing he hates hearing from them.
An aging unmated Omega. Perhaps the only tolerable sibling he’d go to see when it’s unbearable was Gabriel.
Sick of Michael or Lucifer, Castiel would seek refuge with Gabriel who was at least a beta. It wasn’t much better honestly, for what Gabriel lacked in being a overbearing brother he made up for in sheer obnoxiousness. 

This wouldn’t be the case this time though. Gabriel had plans involving an Omega he was infatuated with, and clearly stated he couldn’t be interrupted.

So Castiel- annoyed, agitated, and fed up with being told where to be and when and what time— gets off work and storms for a bar he often passes on the way home.

He’s fuming from another long drawn out call from his mother, and Michael— who should have been off managing another branch instead of loitering in the accounting offices—

'Youll never find a suitable mate with that attitude-'

'You should be more sub servant, Castiel, you scare away suitors-'

'Youre wasting your potential here, we want grandchildren-'

'Why can you not be more polite-'

'Perhaps a matchmaker-'

'—only concerned you'll be uncared for—'

It made him grind his teeth as he huffed, opening the doors to head in.

The Roadhouse. It’s a dim place that smells of leather and wood polish. It’s sparse in patrons, not that he’ll complain. He’s here for a drink in rebellion and partially to give a proverbial ‘fuck you’ (as Gabriel would say) to his family who would be aghast that he’s in such a place without ‘protection’.

He doesn’t need a ‘Alpha’ for protection.


Not that he’s opposed. He fights the fight with his family, against the expectation and pressure. However, Castiel doesn’t hate the idea. He’s only shared his bed on occasion. The problem is no one is just…./enough/. A night of hollow pleasure was entertaining the one or two times he had in college, but he would rather not be mated to any knot that can find his hole.
It shouldn’t work that way. Castiel may be an omega, but he wants something to click. He wants something interesting.

That’s not going to come through with Michael or his mother and a matchmaker, heaven forbid. 

An attractive blonde bartender smiles at him as he orders, just a rum and coke, before she looks at him curiously and walking off.

He feels a little warm under his collar, so Castiel sheds his trench coat and drapes it over his brief case in the chair beside him. 
He can feel multiple eyes on him but chooses to ignore it, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, dismantling his tie and undoing a few buttons so he’s comfortable.

When his drink comes, the glass is like ice, freezing to the touch. The blue eyed man took a long drink, relief hitting his parched throat. He didn’t realize he had been so thirsty?

The bar has music playing off to the side from a old juke box, something he finds he likes. The omega is half contemplating going to investigate when he feels goosebumps a wave of something…..almost too divine reaching him. Under all the leather and whiskey and polish of the bar.

Rich. Sweet like burning wood, cedar and clove. Something else in it he doesn’t have the pallet to identify, too far away. It’s spicy and easily addictive even though it’s muted.

He turns sharply, looking around the bar. He sees a few glances at him- but they don’t measure up.

No. Not like when he finds himself looking up across the bar at a man with brilliant green eyes starring into him.

It’s him, his chest hammers, he’s the one. 

It takes less then a second for him to know the man is a alpha. Broad shoulders, handsome face, long lashes and lips he can’t help looking at.

It’s a strange sensation he feels and does not recognize. He is only a stranger. A stranger that Castiel is now noticing he’s been starring at for a few minutes now.

He looked away, back to his drink and asked for another, still feeling warm. 

"Is the heating on?" He asks the blonde bartender when she slides him another drink.
His voice comes out rougher then he intended.


deanisthelittlespoon:

is there anything more beautiful than Dean being grumbly and nervous about bottoming for the first time

and then ten minutes later, he’s gasping into the pillows, shoving himself back onto Cas’ dick, hands fisted desperately in the sheets as he begs, ’don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…’

no, i don’t think there is <333



posted 2 days ago with 14,223 notes (via)
#little shit Sam

neweverymorningmusic:

the third track from three years is called “line in the sheets”. 

this one was co-written by luke, colin, and me. luke came to us with the guitar structure, i came up with a composition and a melody, and colin wrote words to it. 

deadwoodfloats.com

when every scent just begs for leave 
and wanders off in the afternoon
you will understand why i’m the moon 
who chases the wind through the trees 

posted 2 days ago with 14 notes (via)
#worth the listen

Your picture With Gabriel... and the gold and... And.. Ugh I can't even words right now I just.. Let me sit at your feet and bask in the glory for a bit :) - dude-you-punched-a-cupid

Sobbbbbuiuiinnnggggggggg nooo riseee, you can sit next to me oh my god thank you cryingggghh

posted 2 days ago with 2 notes

U r tras h - luciferblogging

excuuuuuuuse youuuuuuuuu sir haha

posted 2 days ago with 3 notes

rhymewithrachel:

in which dean gets way into things and sam is sam



Hello. Uhm I was wondering if you had any tips for a 'beginning' artist? I love your work, by the way. - erotic-cupcake

I saw your comment! I haven’t gotten to go through everything yet but oh my god thank you for messaging me!!

And thank you — I get really flustered when I hear that I swear I’m a 12 year old I’ll never get used to it—

Let’s seeee

Never stop. No joke. Boot camp yourself- buy a sketchbook and draw in it EVERYDAY.

I do this thing where I make a list of favorite artists, find like 10 of them. Why do you like what they draw? What makes their style special to you? Try to take that and do it your way.

When you get frustrated, try doing collage or something else to loosen up your creative ability.

Oh, and honestly— pick the thing that’s the absolute most fucking annoying thing to draw for you— like hands or feet or ears or WHATEVER— (HANDS!!)/&/$/&/$$/&/)

And draw that the most. Draw it so much you get to the point where the thing that made you cry, you laugh at and say with a strong scary Russian toughened accent, “I eat you for breakfast.”

That’s what I would suggest.

I don’t know why I said Russian only that when I was typing that the voice was Russian.

Point is, once you fight through the hardest stuff, everything after that will be easier— not /easy/— but easier. And you can start playing more when you get the confidence of defeating your enemies.

Hands. I fucking hate hands.

posted 3 days ago with 11 notes