No vessels. Real actual angels. With solid wings. And Bonding. As in soulmates-forever-and-will-most-likely-die-if-separated. Just… Just fucking read it.
"Angels and demons are slaves kept by the general population, all sold by the company H&H, run by Michael and Lucifer Morningstar. Sam and Dean work for the company, capturing escaped slaves and returning them to their owners, until they’re sent after the angel Castiel and Dean finds his worldview getting a major overhaul. On the run from Michael and Lucifer, the Winchesters discover family secrets and their own role in what might just be the end of the world."
Dean hits the floor and barely has time to register this fact before Cas’ foot connects with his ribs. His strangled cry is cut off by a kick to the stomach.
Alistair is on the sidelines laughing, and possibly singing something.
Dean’s being dragged back to his feet by the back of his shirt, then. He tries to get out of the hold, but his feet can’t find purchase, because they’re dangling just over the floor. Cas throws him against the wall, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and before Dean can recover, the angel is on him again.
This punch leaves his lip split open, that one does the same to his cheek; Cas just keeps hitting any part he can reach: face, chest, stomach, ribs…
Dean keeps a tight grip on the knife, and wills himself not to strike back, despite every muscle in his body trying to do just that, just like a life time of bar brawls and twelve years dealing with violent slaves has taught him.
Cas presses him back against the wall as hard as he can, draws back a fist.
“Cas, please!” The plea is out before Dean even realizes he’d started to speak.
He sees the briefest, most miniscule flash of recognition in the cold, lifeless eyes staring at him, and the angel falters just long enough for Dean to reach up with the knife and drag the blade down the side of Cas’ neck, splitting the ink collar in two. Dean feels the connection between them renew instantly, and it feels like as much of a punch to the gut as any of the ones Cas had been delivering.
Cas drops like a stone, leaving Dean against the wall, struggling to breathe, both from the beating and the rush of the Bond returning.
"Jesus Christ is dead. Somehow, that isn’t the worst part of Dean’s week."
Read this. Seriously. I’d tell you the 43753845 reasons I love this fic but then I’d spoil all your “ohmygod” moments and trust me, there are some. Just read.
You don’t get any of my movie references, he thinks, scattering slow, open-mouthed kisses across Castiel’s shoulders, moving his lips down to where Jimmy Novak relinquished his heart to the angel inside of him and pressing his mouth against the erratic pounding there. His fingers dip into the waistband of Castiel’s underwear and pull, baring Castiel’s cock to the air, immediately curling around it. It’s hot against his palm, like holding burning coal in his hands, and he moans at the feel of it, thumbing the head again and relishing the way Castiel’s hips buck into his touch.
You’re fucking creepy when you stare. Dean catches Castiel’s nipple between his lips and relishes the way it hardens under his tongue. You’re going to get us arrested in Hawaii over hermit crabs.
Castiel’s hand slides up to grasp the back of Dean’s neck, forcing him to abandon Castiel’s chest and look at him. They’re breathless, flushed, hard. Dean can’t remember ever being this hard for someone. He hasn’t been. Not like this.
He wants to take Castiel into his mouth, feel the weight and the salt of him on his tongue, let him all the way inside.
You saw something worth saving.
"You woke me," Castiel gasps, rolling his hips, thrusting into Dean’s grip. "You had purpose. Now do it."
It’s a huge and wonderful mix of sweet domestic schmoop and bits of angst that the Dean/Castiel relationship cannot exist without.
"Dean wakes up in the cheerfully painted yellow kitchen of a middle class home in Suburbia, USA. There are two things that tip him off to the fact that he’s in a state that ain’t Kansas or reality: one, the fact that he can’t remember how he got to this kitchen or what happened immediately preceding his arrival (such as falling asleep or being hit in the face with a squirt of hallucinogenic demon juice); two, the way everything seems too bright and perfect to be real…"
"I don’t know what I’m doing," Dean says as soon as Castiel gets home, arms laden down with library books. Dean gets up from the couch where he’d been waiting and takes a step towards Castiel. “I don’t know how the fuck this happened.”
Castiel nods once, sharply, before he turns to walk up the stairs.
"Please," Dean says, and he puts a hand on Castiel’s arm so he won’t leave. "Cas."
Castiel stills. “I don’t want to pass the time right now.”
Dean lets go of Castiel’s arm immediately and backs up a step. “That’s not—I just. I need to tell you I—” The words are coming out all garbled in Dean’s mouth, mixed up and confused and falling over themselves. “I didn’t want to talk before because I was—I was scared shitless of what’d happen if I did. I thought anything I’d say would only fuck this up.”
"Fuck what up, Dean?" Castiel sets his books down on the kitchen table and rubs his face with a hand. His eyes are red rimmed.
"This. You and me." Dean swallows and shoves his hands in his pockets; time to go all in. “You know how I’ve been able to get through being trapped this shithole of a town? Because I know someone’s always got my back. Someone who—who gets me, knows me, and still fucking sticks around anyway.” Dean blinks hard, and his chest aches. “Then we started having some stupidly awesome sex and I thought, when the hell is the other shoe gonna drop? Because nothing in my life is ever this good.”
"Dean," Castiel whispers, but says nothing else.
Dean plows ahead even though his voice is seizing in his throat. “You’re not just something to pass the time, Cas. And if you want to stop fucking, okay, I’ll find a way to live with that. But I’m sorry, because I know there’s no way we can—I can—go back to the way things were before.”
Castiel finally meets Dean’s eyes. “Why?”
"Because you’re everything," Dean forces himself not to look away this time, even though it’s terrifying. “Because I’m fucking crazy about you. I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Dean waits for what seems like forever, waits for Castiel to turn on his heel and walk away. To come to his senses and realize that he doesn’t need this bullshit, doesn’t need Dean.
Instead, Castiel steps close and puts his palm to Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” is all Castiel says as Dean tentatively reaches out to wrap his arms around Castiel’s waist. “Okay.”
Pimping another one of my favourite writers. Her style just takes my breath away. <3
This one is Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel, need I say more? It’s actually more than smut. It’s really emotional, especially on future!Castiel’s part.
…“See,” he hears then, and he figures it’s future-Cas talking to his present self, “if you do it like this? I’m pretty sure he won’t say no to much.”
Right. Figures that this Cas would also have the not small advantage to know what Dean likes already. Dean shivers when he feels his Cas slipping definitively behind him; his back is now pressing against Cas’s chest rather than the bed’s headboard and he can’t help noticing that present-Cas is way warmer than the one who’s currently jerking Dean off.
“Interesting,” his-Cas mutters, and then Dean feels a hand run along his side until it settles on his hip and another on his stomach. A third reaches out for his nipple and ohjesus both of them are touching him and if he was about to die from just one hand, now that he has all four of them on his skin? His breathing becomes quicker and less even, and when his-Cas turns Dean’s head on the left so that he can lean down and kiss him open-mouthed, Dean decides that Cas has very much learned his lesson and that he’s more than glad to comply. He steals a glance in future-Cas’s direction, and the latter looks merely smug even if he’s still pale and like he needs to eat a good number of burgers. Dean gasps into Cas’s mouth when the hand around his cock gives him a firm, strong stroke that would have had him coming if only the grip future-Cas has on him would prevent him from doing it; when the kiss is done, Dean’s breathing is so heavy that he thinks all air was stolen from his lungs.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and while Cas-in-front-of-him lets out a snort, Dean can feel the one behind him looking like he doesn’t get why is Dean cursing just right now.
The best thing about this fic probably is that Dean plays a much bigger role in the war against Lucifer than just being Michael’s vessel. Michael and Gabriel are both awesome. There is loads of Sam/Gabriel in addition to Dean/Castiel (where Dean gets to see the angel’s true form). And there’s an epic battle at the end.
Oh and there are chunks of crossover with Good Omens, so if you love it - go read now. THERE’S CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE. If you haven’t read Good Omens (WHY THE HELL NOT?!) don’t worry, you’ll understand the plot anyway.
Here’s what’s going on here: in hopes of breaking up Team Free Will Michael (a giant perve I must say) erases their memories and sends them to an AU where Castiel is a rentboy and Dean becomes his customer. He doesn’t expect Dean falling in love with Cas and even less shipping those two himself. Lots of sex, 17 orgasms total and a happy ending guaranteed.
"I’m just gonna make you come so hard you pass out, that’s all."
Castiel shivers against him at the words, and Dean pushes him down onto the bed with a hand between his legs, rubbing where Castiel is already hard inside his jeans. A soft, needy noise escapes Castiel as he spreads his legs, but Dean stops touching him there and starts undressing him.
First Dean fucks him on his hands and knees, and it’s hard and fast and glorious. Castiel grips the headboard so tightly his knuckles turn white and he pushes back on every thrust, always wanting more, but Dean doesn’t give him more. He neglects Castiel’s needs in pursuit of his own release, and after he gets it he collapses unceremoniously onto the bed.
Castiel doesn’t complain, of course, and he knows better than to touch himself, but as he lies beside Dean and waits, he keeps shifting restlessly.
Eventually Dean takes mercy on him and rolls over onto his side to face Castiel so he can finger fuck him. The relentless prostate massage is enough to unravel Castiel to the point of incoherent begging, but it isn’t enough to make him come, and Dean decides, quite wickedly, to drag it out for as long as he can stand to not be fucking Castiel himself. It goes on for almost half an hour.
And then Dean does fuck him again, spooned up behind Castiel and rocking into his body. The edge has already been taken off his own hunger so he takes his time, torturing Castiel so, so sweetly, and twice Castiel forgets everything and reaches down between his own legs, but both times Dean catches his hand and brings it over Castiel’s shoulder so he can suck on his fingers. By the time Dean is ready to come again, Castiel has long since lost it. He heaves a dry, choked off sob when Dean finally pushes him onto his stomach and slides a hand underneath him to grip his cock, and they come together like that, with Dean writhing on top and Castiel keening into a pillow as he bucks beneath him, into Dean’s hand.
Just as Dean hoped, Castiel passes out after his orgasm, and Michael is so fascinated he forgets to be disappointed that the two of them are growing closer and closer instead of further apart.
So, I made this blog to publish daily Dean/Castiel recs.
I’m hoping this will include 1 daily fanfic, 1 fanart and 1 fanvid (although I may run out of those at some point).
I’m not allowing submissions, this is my personal biased rec blog so I can shamelessly whore out my favourite writers, artists and vidders. And I also wanna keep a good eye on formatting and tagging. However I might consider submissions when I’m out of material to rec :)