Shipping and Other Slightly Inappropriate Madness

sports

this gif fixes sadness

*kiss* 

*kiss*

*smile*

*boop*

World War everything ended.

look how the refs face softens when they kiss tho

i actually do love this

john asking nice things like, “does that feel good?” and “do you like that?” while he’s giving sherlock a really thorough fucking and sherlock is just red faced and whimpery and squirming

doin’ sabriel sunday lazy-style (because fuck you, that’s why) and just re-posting some sabriel (with bonus background destiel) from my long-ass fic (read the whole mess via AO3)

——-

Sam was happy for Dean and Cas. He was fucking thrilled, there’s no question about that. He loved his brother more than anyone on the planet, and despite his peculiarities — and the less profound bond, the dick — Cas had come to occupy the #2 position. After watching the two of them dance around their mutual attraction for so long, Sam had been about ready to lock the idiots in the bunker’s basement until they fucked it out.

He had planned, however, to be very fucking far out of hearing range when that happened. Let alone seeing range. He had very much not planned to be stuck alone with the two of them in a motel in fucking Florida while they got years of sexual frustration out of their systems.

Sam shuddered, then jumped as a voice announced its presence from the passenger seat.

“What’s up, Sammy-boy?”

“Gabriel! Don’t fucking do that! And really don’t do that while I’m driving, you asshole!”

“Sorry,” he said innocently. “I could smell your angst from fucking Cairo.”

“What were you doing in Egypt?”

“Egyptians,” Gabriel said with a grin. Sam rolled his eyes. “So let me guess: Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee back there finally got their heads out of their asses? And, perhaps, replaced their heads with their dicks?”

Sam snorted. “Charming as ever, Gabe. But basically, yeah. I thought nothing could be worse than the constant eye-fucking, and I have never been more wrong in my life. And I have been really fucking wrong about some things, dude.”

“We could get back at them.”

Sam looked over suspiciously.

“You know… me, you, a bottle of wine… some hot, kinky, really loud sex in the motel room next door… preferably against the adjoining wall…?”

Sam laughed. “Tempting, Gabe. Sadly, I’m still straight.”

Gabriel sighed theatrically. “Someday, Samsquatch.”

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I can’t resist Castiel and fluffy creatures. 

Happy Anniversary, smartarse.

January 29th, 1881 - January 29th, 2014.