sexiest archangel

[ TXT: nuisance 🍭 ] : i’m not curious about degraded semen.

[ TXT: nuisance 🍭 ] : how come every time we talk, our conversations seem to drift toward my intimate life ?

Azrael stood there looking at him in silence trying to discern if he was being serious (he was). She didn't say anything for a long moment. This was what he had torn her away from a reaping for? She struggled with whether she should be annoyed or to just go with it. She decided on the latter. She was given her Reapers for a reason, after all.

                             "ONE SWEET? You're cheap. But sure, grab whatever you want. Fancy Dubai chocolate that's totally overhyped? Be my guest." He rubs his hands like a gremlin and then pushes his cart into the shop like he's charging into battle, and honestly, this is a more important war than fighting the hordes of Hell could ever be. He needs to ensure greedy little kids don't get the best things, after all.

@trickheaven || inbox meme reply || inbox temp. off for catch up! (From Gabe 😘)

listen, you malibu middle class barbie piece of shit, i'm trying to work here.

"hold ooooooooon."

"you just say? malibu middle class barbie piece of shit??" color him fucking knocked for a loop level of surprised but he didn't think heaven caught that kind of pop culture bashing?? honestly? that was pretty fucking hilarious! directed at him? makes it a little borderline but from one colorfully languaged person to another? call it appreciation for the art combined with being damn verbally smacked up side the head!!!

"m'not sure if i should be impressed or offended? the hell??"

                             "I KNEW YOU WEREN'T THE SMART ONE, but this is getting frankly ridiculous." Gabriel, pissed-off, turns to glare at Dean. He'd hoped that by speaking Dean's own language, the guy would get the hint, but apparently, he's been mistaken. His bad. "I am working," he repeats, flapping his little notebook with scribbled bullet points into Dean's face to emphasize his words. "That's why I need you to stop blinking those big Barbie eyes at me, pack up your freckles and your machismo, and march those bow legs out of here!"

SINCE WHEN DO HUMANS WITH ANIMAL EARS LOOK CUTE? Guess everyone has their niche preferences, huh? However, Annie's relief is practically written all over her face when Gabriel makes the creepy add-on vanish. Those earrings? Tapping against one with a fingertip has the tiny bunny bounce and wiggle for about two seconds, though she doesn't even get to say that this is an improvement when he starts... confusing her. Tucking in her chin, brows pinching together, Annie's grimace survives the span of another bite from her almond joy getting chewed. "What?" She has to cover her mouth with one hand when she fails to stifle a snort— only continues to talk with her mouth empty again. Save for the few sticky crumbs she's got to swallow.

"Now you're fucking with me, right? I know you are", Annie concludes, jaw moving as her tongue pokes at molars for said crumbs. "I mean, go for it!" A dismissive wave of one hand and her brows arch upward ; her half-assed smile wanes soon enough with the 'but' not yet said hanging between them. "But please keep Jesus out of it. Okay? I'm serious." Which doesn't mean Gabriel soured her mood. He's still refreshingly fun to be around. No, fine, she plays along. "So what are you then? Sugar Daddy aside." Expectation washing over her face, she plants an elbow atop the table and her chin into the palm of her hand. "If you're about to say you're God, though, I'm going to call 911 because then you really need help."

                             "YOU'D KNOW IF I WERE FUCKING WITH YOU." Cue a cheeky wink. Sorry, but saying that to him will always result in a lecherous retort unless you're, like, his sibling. That would be icky. Anyway, the Jesus love only gets a mild eye roll because, of course, she'd be one of those. Jesus was fun! He said very important things, yes, but he also knew how to party. The wedding in Cana? And damn, the wine had been spectacular.

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. All that gloating about missions long past is nothing but smoke." A pause, his gaze flickering just for a moment. "If you had any shred of dignity, you'd return to where you belong, Gabriel."

                             "BUT THAT'S JUST IT: I don't have any shred of dignity. You should try it, it's very freeing." Fucking haughty motherfucker. He thinks he can just waltz down here and tell Gabriel what to do? Sure, it had worked for a couple of thousand years, but Gabriel is capital D Done. He grew sick of being a cog in the big machinery called Heavenly Host, and he's sick of the hypocrisy and the fighting.

thing is--dean can accept that he deserves the brunt of gabriel's anger. though he doesn't quite hold his gaze for too long lest he see that level of regret building up so high it can be read in his eyes. instead, opting to stare down at the table and take the tongue lashing--dean waits til it's over and arches a brow at the demand. features crumple in confusion as he darts his attention from the woodgrain he'd been following the paths of with his stare to gabriel's infuriated hazel glare. "you wanna see what," a hand swings up gesturing that he doesn't need him to actually repeat what the hell he said. brief eyeroll later, he thumbs over his shoulder past the porch they're on into the roadhouse. "they're upstairs in there.. if you really want. but.. hey? sam took losing you as a pretty big hit, okay? don't know if that means shit to you but.. he did."

                             "SURE, he had a whole widower arc, just like you, when Castiel died for the, like, twelfth time." Gabriel rolls his eyes big time. It's not like he expected Sam to mourn him or some shit. He's riling Dean up because that's what he does best. It's nice to know that Sam might have felt sad for at least an hour or two when the coolest archangel that ever existed said sayonara for real. "And I know they're in there, I've heard the little beast that Sam managed to put into that gorgeous woman of his. I have a general rule that says I'll only interact with children who have enough teeth to eat candy, so no thank you," he stresses the last bit when DJ's ear-piercing scream echoes through the entire roadhouse. "And don't tell me you're not like any other Boomer, who has every photo ever on their smartphone, including the wedding of their only brother?"

Fast like a bullet, Gabriel's retort fires through the space between them. A long list of reasons that'd justify his unwillingness to keep meddling, alongside the fact of Jack's intention to put a stop to all those wars. Cain reclines in the chair as if the archangel's finger slammed to that tabletop bordered on an insult striking surprise ; the one brow he lifted in displeasure at 'fuck you' lowering again. Right. The guy who can't die, but knows what dying feels like from the moments prior to turning into a demon. He was scared, so much he remembers. Silent defeat dips his head in a slow nod, eyes cast to the same table where rotting apples' stench starts to waft over.

"You win", Cain admits then, reaching for the bowl to pluck it from its spot. And rises from his chair one last time. "For whatever it's worth, I wouldn't want you gone for good, either." Simpering, the demon heads toward the kitchen with those apples to dispose of them— off into the compost bin.

                             AND JUST LIKE THAT, GABRIEL'S THUNDER IS STOLEN. He was prepared to argue more, to throw a fit, anything, really, but two simple words are enough to make him feel like an idiot if he forces the issue some more. You win doesn't necessarily mean Cain agrees with him, but he's unwilling to argue further, maybe he has no valid points to make anymore, either. Gabriel wins. Doesn't feel like winning, though, not with the energy still thrumming under his skin with no outlet in sight. 

                                "I THINK YOU MIGHT BE TALL ENOUGH FOR THIS WATER SLIDE." Really, Dean-o? Lying to children is bad form. You only do it if it's about something funny, like Santa Claus actually existing. "Dark Vader? Okay. Guess I gotta get out my Princess Leia bikini then, so we can wear matching outfits. Alright, champ, you got 5 minutes to find those swimming trunks and grab a towel, and then we're outta here. And tell your dad, so he won't have my ass because he thinks I'm kidnapping you or something."

Gabriel graces Cain with a moment to catch his breath, tense muscles unclenching for as long as it takes the archangel to apply another dose of lube. He blinks his eyes open, a hand that suddenly feels weak reaching for Gabriel's head to card its fingers through his hair. A gentle caress. But the second he means to purr quiet praise, that slick finger glides inside again— it costs discipline to relax where reflex demands otherwise. Pointed strokes, his hips inevitably buck upward if only by a meager inch while a violent surge of pure ecstasy rips through the entirety of his being. Resulting in drawn-out groans. His lids flutter shut over eyes that roll back ; as does his head, press into the pillow below. Mind wiped blank.

"Gabriel, I'm-", Cain manages to gasp in between, pressure building up, toes digging into sheets in tandem with fingers desperate for something to hold onto. Sans tearing hair from that pretty head. His cock throbs in the angel's hand, leaks, coats the skilfull tongue teasing its tip. "I'm close." And just when he says it, his back arches as every atom in his body practically explodes. If Gabriel fails to pull back in time, he'll spill into his mouth to the sound of a final relieved moan. Left as a quivering mess, a satisfied, quivering mess. He lacks the brainpower to think about how short he lasted for the first time in his long life. It doesn't matter.

                             THE SWEET BURN OF HIS SCALP tells Gabriel that Cain is close before his mouth can even utter the warning. The archangel hums low in his throat, guiding him into that sweet bliss that puts everything else to shame, an ecstatic addiction for most of humanity and Gabriel himself. A bitter taste then coats his tongue, though the molecules are way better than what Gabriel usually experiences; probably all that healthy food Cain prefers. He's neither a spitter nor a swallower, but a secret third thing: He just burns the spunk out of his mouth with a drop of grace and cleans his hand up at the same time.

                                ACTUALLY, Gabriel hadn't planned anything, but now that Sam brings up seahorses, his mind does some crazy, happy backflips. Ooohhh, the potential!!! "Firstly: Awwww! You want me to be your baby mommy? I'm touched. No, really, I'm touched. I knew we had something special going on. I'm pretty sure I could grow a uterus; it's not like it's that special. Or give you a uterus. Damn, Tumblr would love the mpreg. Or we do it the boring way." He snaps and changes his vessel into a young, beautiful woman: blond hair, blue eyes, should be Sam's type.

                              MOLLIFIED, GABRIEL WATCHES SAM SHOW A LICK OF SANITY AND TAKE SOME OF THE OFFERED CANDY. And lo and behold, the fucking rabbit-food lover likes it! Of fucking course, he does; only psychopaths dislike chocolate. "Told you so. You're experiencing chocodelia, my friend," he announces knowingly, pushing a few more pieces closer to Sam. Sharing is caring and all that. "Finest Swiss confection. With milk from happy cows eating mountain grass in the sun. Got it directly from the producer. You won't find any of that here, but if you're nice, I can get you more on my next trip to Switzerland."