#(GO)Crowley only BARELY clears the bar for me not having this same opinion of him btw

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

unironically the first post is how I feel about Aziraphale

the only reason this does not apply to the second post/rb is bc yall are ATTACHED to him for some reason

more modern viewers rly needs to learn the thousands years old tradition of “hes a cunt and a menace but i want to see what he does next”

[eturni]

Day 29 - Glitter

We’re in the home stretch now! And Im determined to see this out. Day 29 of @drawlight​‘s advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and today is glitter. Which can naturally only be a 90′s gay Soho club night that sees Crowley stumbling his way into a nearby bookshop rather than bothering to go all the way home to Mayfair.

Aziraphale was just settling in with a glass of mulled wine and his second book of the night when there was a commotion at the door. Luckily it wasn’t anyone breaking in, as the doorbell chimed happily with the announcement that the lock had done absolutely nothing to deter the intruder.

It was almost midnight and, given that there was only one person who could possibly be bursting into his shop with such a racket, Aziraphale was rightly worried about what may be happening.

He quickly bookmarked his page and set the book aside before making his way out to see what was happening. “Crowley? Wha-”

The demon was looming in his doorway in a mesh shirt that strongly hinted at the skin beneath and leather pants far too tight to safely hold any sort of effort. There was a dusting of blue, green and pink glitter through the demon’s hair that caused glinting fractals better than any halo as the lights in the shop caught it.

He looked partly breathless and was grinning wide and terribly, obviously, drunk. “Angel! You ready for the countdown?”

“The countdown?” He echoed, brain still attempting to catch up to the sight in front of him.

“Yeah, angel, the countdown. Was out at JoJo’s and they were gonna- and I didn’t want the new year to start without you.”

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52565221 or:

Crowley made his way over and Aziraphale could see the shimmering red eye liner and the silver across Crowley’s cheeks as well as the further covering of multi-coloured glitter that appeared to have been carelessly thrown over him at some point.

“My dear… I mean, Crowley-” Aziraphale cleared his throat self-consciously, looking away from the demon “it’s only the 29th. The new year doesn’t start for another couple of days. Aside from which you know it isn’t always a good idea to be here.”

Crowley’s frown of confusion slowly gave way to something much more guarded as Aziraphale progressed and the angel felt his stomach sour at the knowledge of the way his words could affect Crowley. He always tried so hard to keep his reactions hidden, poor as he was at it, and to see it so clear across his face…

“Where are your glasses?”

Crowley seemed to startle for a moment, looking down at his hands where his sunglasses suddenly were, though Aziraphale was certain they hadn’t been in the moment before. “What does it matter? Just you. You know what I am. Right though, should be off and going. Was in Soho, thought I could see you. Happy New Year, and all that, see you next time there’s a thwarting.”

“Wait, Crowley!” The words came before Aziraphale actually knew what he intended to follow them up with. Unfortunately Crowley stopped immediately, because of course he did, because he always did.

This was supposed to be the one time of the year that Aziraphale could offer up an honest truce, of the sort that Crowley had been working towards since the first moments of the garden, and he’d gone and shut Crowley down only because of his surprise at- what? Less flesh than he’d seen in several other periods of time? A little glitter that was no more offensive than what the chaps flooding from Old Compton street often had covering them.

It very suddenly didn’t feel a fair thing of him, for all that Crowley did attempting to keep the both of them safe whilst still always pushing at those boundaries Aziraphale set for fear. Of course, it was always in a demon’s nature to push at the edges of the rues, to tempt. Still, it was usually in the ways that made Aziraphale think with more compassion.

And, of course, Crowley was turned and looking at him with mouth a thin line that barely covered the hurt at the dismissal.

“I’m sure a drink or two wouldn’t hurt. I have a good bottle of rioja open. And you can tell me about this party where they’re already celebrating the new year.” He suggested. He didn’t apologise; angels don’t do wrong, per se after all, but it’s an olive branch.

“Mmm, suppose, if you’ve got one out.” Crowley nodded, evidently off kilter with the change.

“Wonderful, take a seat and I’ll be right back.” He declared; already feeling the odd tightness in his chest and stomach unwinding to something more manageable as he rushed off for the wine.

It gave him a few precious moments to gather his own thoughts. It obviously gave Crowley the same; as he was wearing the sunglasses once again when Aziraphale returned. He supposed it was only fair and tried not to be too disappointed with the turn of events as he passed over a half-full glass of wine and noticed the dusting of glitter that his fingers left on the stem.

It very abruptly brought his attention to the couch, and the gentle sparkles of colour that Crowley was leaving as he leaned and shifted and fidgeted along the fabric. It would be impossible to get out with anything short of a miracle; glitter always was.

Aziraphale pulled his gaze away and tried to not think too closely about how that semi-permanent mark in his space made him feel. “So, New Year’s Eve on the 29th?”

Crowley’s lips picked up in a smirk. “JoJo’s, Aziraphale. Any excuse for hedonism and a good party. Great place to got some decent temptations in, especially this time of year.”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Aziraphale pursed his lips with the slightest sigh “but why a fake new years? They can do that on the night anyway and they hardly need a gimmick like that as an excuse for all of that excess.”

Crowley tilted his head with a single shoulder shrug before taking a gulp of his wine. “Some of ‘em have to be with family for the real thing don’t they? Can’t be dressed like themselves or kiss who they want when Big Ben actually goes off, can they? What would their good Christian families do then?” He asked in a sing-song mockery.

Aziraphale looked down into his own glass with a soft tut. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s quite right.” He had to concede after a moment.

It was, to not be able to be truly with the person you cared for because of your family’s opinions, a tale of tragedy that was almost as old as human stories. It was also always something that found the space between Aziraphale’s ribs and squeezed in an all-too-human way.

He startled a little when a glittering palm came into view and very carefully took hold of his chin, raising his head enough to meet Crowley’s eyes. They were still lined in red making the yellow-gold, and the fact that his glasses were once again missing, all the clearer.

“C’mon angel. They’ve got their communities when their families won’t have them. Got a lot of safe spaces around Soho that you wouldn’t always expect, far as I understand it.” He smiles a little and it causes Aziraphale to nervously wet his lips.

“Well, of course! There being nothing wrong with it at all. All the better that they’re rarely in here to actually buy anything. Yes, of course this would be a place for them, without all of the temptation of all night bars, of course.”

“Of course.” Crowley grinned in return, finally satisfied enough that he had the angel’s attention to finally let go of his chin.

Aziraphale tried desperately to ignore the phantom warmth that remains on his chin as Crowley pulled back. To ignore the suggestion of glitter that he knows it will have left imprinted in his stubble; soft rainbows of a community that pulled ever closer at times like this where family felt more like a noose than a comfort.

“You know, I may have been a little rash earlier. You are, of course, more than welcome here for the new year. The decorations don’t go away until twelfth night, after all.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and slumped back into the couch again with a grin that couldn’t be pressed down. “Do people even still do that any more? Twelfth night?”

“Well, whatever anyone else does, I do.” He huffed, straightening out his bow tie just to put a fine point on it.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be here. With bells on. Or just… not glow sticks.” Crowley smiled, warm and real and glittering in the soft light of the shop. “No one I’d rather ring it in with.”

[charmingpplincardigans]

Here are some things that I love:

Crowley

This Kiki Smith sculpture that I spent A LOT of time staring at while it was at the MFA in Boston

Crowley and Aziraphale’s combined post-Apocalypse love language being a desire to meet each other in the middle of their respective becomings and still having to work out all the kinks in that. 

There is no purpose to this and I don’t even know if it’s worth putting on AO3, but here, for people who also like it when angels and demons discuss art. 

. . . 

They hadn't properly been to a museum together in a couple of years. Of all the places the two of them met up during the anti-christ years, museums had been Crowley’s favorite. As spaces they were just so...human. Not that there were many places you could go on the planet to escape humanity if you wanted to, but museums tended to be one of those places of unguarded emotion. It was enough to make a demon reconsider his place in the world, which he supposed was the point. 

Crowley had been to a few opening nights at galleries without Aziraphale, but those pit stops hadn't been about Art so much as they'd been about the stark distinction between the solace art can bring to a soul and the greed, avarice, and lust that usually floated around circles of artists. Easy temptations as those things went. 

Strictly speaking, whenever Crowley met Aziraphale at a gallery before the Apocalyse That Wasn't, that had not been about Art either, but distracting Aziraphale and coaxing him into a contemplative mood about the nature of humanity as represented in chaotic drip and splatter paintings or calm, staid blocks of color was an even easier temptation than the ones he pulled on the artists. Probably because he knew Aziraphale so very well and was well-versed in his opinion on wine and canapes to be had at quaint little bars inside museums. The angel's opinion was, almost unwaveringly, strongly in favor.

This time it was about the art. Outwardly and ostensibly, anyway. Inwardly it was also about the itch that had been working its way down Crowley's back like the universe’s slowest drop of infernal sweat for the last month or so. Once a being became used to looking over their shoulder they would be doing it for the rest of their life. Just because the thing they expected to find there had stopped looking at them did not mean the being could just accept they were free and move on with their lives sans hunted and haunted feeling. Crowley and Aziraphale had effectively scared off Heaven and Hell for the time being, but that didn't mean they'd scared them off forever, and there were ever so many seconds between now and forever when Crowley's growing paranoia might prove itself well-founded. 

(Update, now on AO3 after all, if you prefer to read there.)

Because of this, staying in one place became harder and harder every day. He had not yet successfully convinced Aziraphale to truly get out of dodge, though he’d floated many tempting destinations: the cusp of the aurora borealis, a dynamic volcano range on Venus, Iceland. The angel resisted every invitation. He claimed he needed to do inventory on the newly restored bookshop, which quickly turned into what might be a several year long effort to re-read everything in it and check Adam's handiwork for discrepancies. But even with this undertaking Crowley had successfully gotten him out of the shop a few times. 

Usually that happened when Crowley became so tired of sitting in patches of sun and pretending to be interested in Foucault that he threatened to go somewhere else on his own and Aziraphale, who had been reluctant to let the demon out of his sight since they'd been returned to Earth more or less unharmed, promptly closed up the shop and offered to come with him. Crowley was still working out how he felt about this development, but for now he more or less approved. 

They didn't have to hide anything anymore, which meant he didn't have to hide how important their shared history was to him and how much genuine pleasure he got from luring Aziraphale out on small adventures. Which was how they now found themselves in an art museum looking at a sculpture titled Lilith and comparing it to their memory of the real thing. 

"She looks hungry," Aziraphale said. "Did that girl ever look so hungry to you? Do you remember?"

He had his head tilted back to look up at where the life sized sculpture was mounted above them on the wall. His left hand rested in the front pocket of his overcoat, but his right arm hung at his side, pinky just barely brushing against the back of Crowley's hand, a gentle reminder that they were both still there. 

"They were all made hungry at first, weren't they? For each other and for the horizon? Insurance, I’d say."

Crowley had his right arm crossed behind his back, holding the elbow of his left close to his side. It was to keep himself in check. As much as Aziraphale did not like to take his eyes of Crowley in this shiny new world, Crowley did not like to take his hands off Aziraphale. 

They were both fighting millennia of incompatible conditioning in their own ways. Some days it resulted in time spent pressed together and getting so wrapped up in each other's bodies they forgot to speak. Some days it resulted in arguments neither of them knew how not to have. It was all very different from the bickering and careless touching that had come before. The weight of their changing relationship was heavily yoked across Crowley's shoulders, but it was a weight he welcomed.

"To make sure the hard work was appreciated, you mean?" Aziraphale asked.

"To make sure everything got kicked off. You don't think They had us make all of that just to let Their creation be contained to one small walled in oasis in the desert? Come on, angel. You know better than that."

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Why shouldn't I believe She wanted them to be happy, to revel in the beauty gifted them?"

"Angel," Crowley said.

It was half admonishment and half question. After everything, finally, Aziraphale had to know that the Almighty's intentions weren't universally good for those in Their charge. The two of them were proof of that. Or, at the very least, they were proof that just because machinations had been put into place, that didn't mean they were worthy of being seen through. Or that the beings doing the overseeing wouldn't twist them to their own ends when left to their own, bloodthirsty druthers. 

He turned his head to look at Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale's blue eyes were staring steadily into the blue eyes of the sculpture. It really was very lifelike, with its clear, piercing eyes and the smoked, charred appearance of the bent and crouching body. One hand ground itself to the wall and one hand ended at the wrist as if it was meant to be disappearing into the boundary between them. 

Myths circulated among some of the humans that Lilith had somehow straddled realms, that she conquered angels and birthed demons. Of course, no demons had been born of another body. All of them, to Crowley's knowledge, had been born of only the fault lines that ran through their own cracked shells. Crowley, who had many faults, had also once been charred all black and shadowed with the red of his wounds.

“The very making of them was a promise,” Aziraphale insisted. 

“To who?” Crowley asked, incredulous. “There wasn’t anything to it. Here, have some green things and some new creatures and some teeth. Gnaw your way through the world, you’ll figure it out.”

“That was faith,” Aziraphale said. “And faith is perhaps the most important thing a being can have.” 

He looked at Crowley with a fierceness in his eyes that reminded Crowley of kneeling on a tarmac and wondering, for just a second, what part of him was going to end up with a flaming sword in it. He still felt a little guilty for that fear, for being afraid of Aziraphale of all beings, but in his defense, a lot of acutely predicted unpredictable things had happened up to that point and he had quite lost his grip on the way things were supposed to be.

“Don’t know from faith,” Crowley grumbled. “The only thing I believe in is you.”

Aziraphale’s gaze softened considerably. “There was good to be found in Heaven when we were building,” he said. “Surely you remember that. And if there ever was good I think there still must be.” 

“Good and altruism are not the same thing,” Crowley said. “Good can mean anything, depending.” They both knew that to be true. It was in fact the truth The Arrangement was predicated on. 

"I'm just having a hard time of it, my dear," Aziraphale whispered. "I feel so...alone without all the rest of them, even after everything. Cut out, something has been cut out of me and while it is still hurting, it doesn't help when you gloat."

"I wasn't– " Crowley started, but he bit himself off. 

Of course he was, though he hadn't meant to be. Not that his intention mattered when it was his utter certainty in the fallibility of Heaven that rubbed Aziraphale raw. 

Crowley had tried for thousands of years to get Aziraphale to believe that they themselves were all they really had, and now they were. In theory he had won, but in practice they had both lost a lot. And while Crowley had never believed in Hell—because by its very nature Hell did not give demons things to believe in so much as it gave them a shared enemy in Heaven—Aziraphale had believed in Heaven. Wholly. With every part of himself. 

Aziraphale was a creature of love so purposeful that he believed all angels were creatures of love, and that love was meant to be their purpose. Even when confronted with proof of the contrary, he never stopped believing his brethren could be better. Crowley was positive that Gabriel, for instance, would not be able to pick love out of a lineup if it offered itself up with an explanation, a prayer, and a perfectly tailored pair of trousers. Aziraphale, in contrast, didn't know how to let love go. He loved when it was a celebration and he loved when it was a wake. Aziraphale loved Crowley, against all odds, or maybe because of them. Maybe because of how odd the pair of them were, because they'd lived so long in each other's pockets it couldn't be helped. 

Crowley loved Aziraphale because, well, the list was very long, but one of the bullets was definitely the way he was currently standing in a public art museum, eyes misting under the pressure of their new lives catching up to him. The new absences in both of them were heavy, but they were free to feel that heaviness, and wasn’t that something. 

They could, perhaps in time, come to fill those absences with each other, but it would have to be done carefully, deliberately, and with the knowledge that it was impossible to make another being your whole world. It was also unfair. At the very least you needed to take up some of that space yourself. Just to give your beloved a place to come home to. 

Crowley released his grip on his own elbow. He bumped Aziraphale's hand with his to warn him that there was movement incoming. Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder, and pulled him close so that he could press a quick kiss to his forehead before letting Aziraphale tuck his face into Crowley's black, padded shoulder. 

"I don't mean to gloat," he said. "But I won't lie to you either."

"No," Aziraphale said, voice muffled in Crowley's jacket collar. "I don't want you to. You never have have you?"

"Not when it mattered," Crowley said. 

Aziraphale wiped at his eyes with a quick, small movement that Crowley pretended not to see. 

"Do you remember what happened to her?” he asked. “I'm afraid I never made it a point to check up."

"Just as well. I'm sure she'd had enough of angels there by the time she'd been replaced. But yeah, she did alright. She survived for a time."

"They're all so very good at that," Aziraphale said. "They look fragile, but they're all so very resilient."

"So are we," Crowley said. "It's hard to tell sometimes whose image any of us were really made in."

Aziraphale reached across Crowley and grabbed a hold of his free hand. He squeezed it tight before loosening back into a more relaxed grip. They stood like that for another fifteen or so minutes while Aziraphale composed himself. He let out a few shaky breaths that Crowley would never mention, tilted his head up to kiss Crowley's cheek, and then pulled away.

The sudden emptiness at his side reminded Crowley that they likely weren't alone, but when he turned to survey their surroundings none of the handful of museum goers were paying them any mind. 

"Where to now, angel?" Crowley said. 

Aziraphale pulled the map from his pocket and studied it. “Oh look, he said, as he pointed to a purple square. “They have some Monets.” 

Crowley sighed. “Fine. But I did tell him, I said Claude, if I see another water lily for the rest of my life it will be too soon.” 

Aziraphale folded the map and slid it back into his pocket. “And what did he say to that?”

“That’s quite the point,” Crowley said, mimicking a French accent. “And then he went into that cathedral because he knew I couldn’t follow. The bastard.” 

“Ah, Rouen,” Aziraphale said. “Well, you can’t argue with an impending sense of mortality anyway.” He stepped away from Crowley to move on to the next gallery. 

Crowley took one last look at the frozen Lilith and then followed. “I’ll have you know I can argue with anything. Those were some nice sunsets though. He captured that alright.” 

“Mmm, I remember Mesopotamia, right before the clouds rolled in. A sunset always could still that forked tongue of yours.” 

“I’ll sssstill my tongue on you.”

Aziraphale laughed. The sound of it startled both Crowley and the humans near them. “Oh yes, I’m sure,” he said. “But let’s save that for later.”

Crowley trailed after Aziraphale and thought that, of all the promises available in the world, the promise of a later was his absolute favorite.

[pink1031]

You’ve Woken Up The Demon in Me. Part-1

Characters: Demon!Dean x Reader, Crowley, Castiel, Cole

Warnings: Violence, non-con, dub-con, language, rough sex, oral (male and female receiving),angst, smut, choking, general abuse, fluff (just a little), 

A/n: This is not for the faint of heart.  It is very dark (like my soul). Demon Dean is by no means fluffy at all.  This follows Season 10, episodes 1, 2, 3 with a reader insert. I did not follow everything exactly, but much of the dialogue is there and the same premise. Sorry if this is pure trash. Part 1 does not follow the show.  All mistakes are my own.  Gif is not mine. 

Word Count: 5258

@build-a-pyre

"Sam?" you asked as you sat up on the edge of the bed wiping the tears from your eyes. There was deep chuckle "Guess again, brat.'" Your head snapped up in surprise.  It couldn't be.  "Dean?" your voice was shaky with fear and hope. "You know it." you could almost hear the smirk in his voice. You jumped up from the bed and ran the short distance across the room to him wrapping your arms around his chiseled waist. "Oh my God Dean."  You hugged him as hard as you could not ever wanting to let go.  His strong arms encircled you completely holding you tight against him.   A soft growl filled his throat as his head dipped down to rest against the top of yours.  "God you smell so fucking good." he whispered. Your body stiffened as Dean's hands started sliding lower and he roughly grabbed your ass.  "And so fucking soft" he growled again. "What?" you looked up at him with confusion on your face. Dean's mouth crushed against yours stifling your whimpered cry.  He quickly had you pinned against the wall. You squirmed in protest, your small hands pushing at the wall of his chest until he finally broke the kiss leaving you breathless. "What the hell Dean?" You were dumbfounded, something was wrong here. "Exactly." he grinned as he blinked and you were suddenly staring into solid black pools. Your scream echoed in the room for only a moment before Dean's large hand covered your mouth.  You tried to fight against him but he was so strong you could barely move. "Uh uh darlin'.  You need to be quiet for me so we don't wake Sammy." He blinked again and his piercing green eyes were staring down at you.  "Now, if I take my hand away are you going to be a good little girl?" You nodded and he slowly let his hand fall away.  You drew in a deep breath before screaming as loud as you could "Sam!" You had no time to react as a quick backhand from Dean sent you crumpling down to the floor. Your body went limp almost instantly as the blackness enveloped you. You awoke with your head pounding and the side of your face aching. Your eyes blinked as you tried to figure out where you were but you were disoriented to say the least.  You heard voices and the rumble of an engine. You were in the Impala, in the back seat, face down.  You tried to move but found your arms were handcuffed behind your back. You tried to stay still as you heard Dean talking in the front seat. Slowly your mind began to clear as you tried to focus on his conversation.  Your blood boiled as you heard the thick accent from the front seat. “I still don’t understand why you had to bring her along.” Crowley scoffed.   “Because I wanted to.” Dean said simply. “If you wanted a toy we could have easily found you one, hell ten, at the next bar.” Crowley rolled his eyes at Dean.  When Dean didn’t respond Crowley continued. “She is going to be trouble and this will bring Moose after you quicker.” “I will deal with my brother and as for Y/n, she isn’t going to give me trouble.  Are you brat?” You didn’t answer.  Your eyes closed as you tried to feign being passed out.  A sharp sting to your ass from Dean’s large hand broke the charade and made you yelp. His fingers dug into the stinging globe of your ass cheek hard enough to bruise making you squirm and whimper. Dean laughed darkly. “I know you were awake darlin’.  Might as well join the conversation.” You grunted as you struggled to roll over and shift your body to sitting without the use of your hands.  You finally managed and you were sitting in the middle of the backseat.  Dean was staring at you in the rearview mirror. The anger was clear on your face. “I don’t know what kind of piece of shit low level demon you are but I swear to God if you don’t get out of Dean I am going to end you.” You spoke between clenched teeth. “Darling, the only demonized soul inside of Dean is his and his alone. Wee bit more twisted, a little more mangled beyond human recognition, but, I can assure you, all his. There, now. Feel better?” Crowley chuckled. “Bullshit!” You snapped back “It’s true.  You see that pesky little mark on his arm didn’t want to let him go so” he gestured to Dean “this is what you get.” “It’s all me brat, 100% Dean, just without all the guilt and emotion that always gets in the way. I’m finally seeing things for how they really are.” Dean smirked back at you. “What do you want with me?” You asked as you stared at Dean’s eyes in the mirror.  You were trying to keep the conversation going.  Trying to keep them occupied as you squirmed softly, your wrists twisting in the cuffs trying to free yourself.   “You’ll find out soon enough” Dean grinned as he stole another glance back at you. “ And if I were you I’d stop messing with the cuffs.  I’d hate have to mark up your pretty little face again.” He winked at you and another flood of anger rushed over you and you let loose a string of swears and threats from your lips. Dean laughed at your threats, making fun of you “You are so damn cute when you are mad, brat.” He chuckled.  That just pissed you off even more and you did the only thing you could think of.  You kicked the back of his seat hard enough that he lunged forward against the steering wheel losing control of the car for only a moment. You quickly leaned further back against the seat bringing your booted foot up to connect with the back of his head.  He cursed and growled swerving the car over to the side of the road and throwing it in park before jumping up out of the driver seat.  He yanked the back door open and grabbed both of your legs pulling you towards the door.  You tried to struggle but even on a good day you were no match for Dean’s strength.  He pulled you down until you were half hanging out of the car, your low back resting on the edge of the seat. Your legs were between his as he towered over you.   “I could kill you right now.” Dean stared down at you his eyes had gone to the pitch black.  You could feel the anger radiating from him but his voice was even and calm and that scared you even more. His large hand closed around your throat easily, not squeezing but just tight enough for you to know he could if he wanted to. “But you won’t.” Your voice came out a lot more shaky than you had hoped.   He grinned then, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “No, I won’t.  I want to play with you first.” He laughed.  “Now, last chance, are you going to be a good little girl or do I need to knock you out again?  I’m good either way.” He smirked. You took a deep breath and weighed your choices.  You choked the words out not liking the taste of them on your tongue. “I’ll be good.” He laughed and his eyes blinked back to the moss green that were so familiar to you.  “Smart choice.” He spoke as he shoved you roughly back into the car before climbing back into the driver’s seat.   The three of you were on the road for hours before finally pulling into a motel parking lot.  Dean sent Crowley to get two rooms for the night.  When Crowley came back with the keys Dean took one in hand and opened the back door to the car holding it open for you.  “Come on brat.” He ordered. You huffed but slid out.  He grabbed one of your arms in his large hand and tugged you to the room.  When Crowley followed the two of you into the room Dean looked over his shoulder and growled at the king. “Get out.” Crowley huffed.  “So much for howling at the moon, huh?” Dean smiled at him “I’ll meet you in the bar across the street in a little while.” Crowley nodded and left the room. Dean still had your arm in his tight grip as the door clicked closed. He quickly pulled you to him, crushing your soft frame against his body.  His lips met yours in a hungry kiss. Your body froze but he was insistent. His lips moved against yours, his tongue danced across your mouth wanting entrance.  You cursed to yourself as you felt the heat spread over your body. He still smelled like your Dean, his body still felt like all the times you had hugged your Dean.  Your brain was screaming at you that this was not really Dean but your body had another opinion all together.  Your lips parted for him almost instinctively. He groaned as his tongue dipped between your lips to taste you.   “So sweet,” he whispered before deepening the kiss, claiming your mouth with his. You whimpered and squirmed against him as his hands began to move over you.  His large hands caressed up and down your arms, sending goosebumps along your skin. They moved over your shoulders and down your back to rest firmly on your ass pulling your hips tighter against his body. You gasped into his mouth as his arousal was evident against your hip.  He finally broke the kiss and stared down at you.  His eyes were filled with lust.   “No, please Dean.” You whimpered, knowing you couldn’t trust your body. “I know you want me.” Dean whispered, his voice raspy with his desire. “I want my Dean, my Dean would never do this.” You pleaded with him. “Your Dean?” he chuckled.  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Your Dean wanted to fuck the hell out of you but he was scared. He was too scared to get attached so he never acted on it, but darlin’ he thought about it every time he saw you.” He stroked your cheek softly “But the new Dean, he isn’t scared.  He is going to fuck you until you can’t walk.” You felt your knees grow weak as the sudden ball of heat coiled low in your body at his words. You were surprised when you were quickly spun around with your back to Dean and you felt him undo the cuffs to free your arms.  You quickly pulled your arms from behind your back and were prepared to fight.  Before you could spin back around to face the demon Dean’s arms quickly wrapped around you from behind and held you tight against his hard body pinning your arms at your sides.  His lips moved to the curve of your neck kissing and sucking at your soft flesh, his ivory teeth scraping along your skin.  You squirmed against him. “Dean, stop.” You tried to break free from his grasp but you could barely move. “I don’t want this.” He growled against your ear and it made you shiver.  “Your mouth keeps saying no, but baby your body is screaming for me.” His tongue darted out to lick over the shell of your ear before he tugged it between his teeth.  His large hands moved to glide over your breasts finding your nipples so hard under his touch.  “See little brat, your nipples are hard, your trembling against me, your breathing is heavier, face flushed.” As he continued to talk his hands moved over you, squeezing your breasts before sliding down along your sides, his fingers splayed as they danced over your stomach.  Your eyes closed tightly as you tried to fight the desire that his touch caused.  “And I bet if I let my hand slid inside those cute little panties you are wearing you would be soaking wet for me. Aren’t you darlin’?” You refused to answer, you bit at your full bottom as Dean continued to grope and explore your body with his large hands.  He chuckled as you tried to fight the feelings but he knew he had you. He knew how bad you were aching for him.  You hadn’t even noticed that as his hands teased against you your hips were grinding your rounded ass back against his crotch.  You didn’t notice but Dean did.  His lips found the curve of your neck once more, sucking and biting your skin until he left purple bruises to mark you.  His hands slid lower and your own hands balled in fists at your side trying desperately not to reach back and touch him.  He held your hip in one tight grip as his other hand dipped between your thighs to grind his palm into your jean covered pussy.  You couldn’t help yourself and a groan fell from your lips as you pressed harder to his hand. “That’s it baby, don’t fight it.  I am going to make you feel so good.” He smirked.   Your breasts rose and fell with your heavy breathing and you whimpered one last time. “Dean, please.” Dean quickly spun you around once more so he could look down at you.  His hands cupped your cheeks as you stared into those soft green eyes.  You were gone then, lost to the feelings surging inside of you.  You had wanted Dean for so long; you had fought these feelings for as long as you had known the man.  You pressed your lips to his hard and he moaned.  He thrust his tongue into your mouth and you were putty in his hands.  His hands left your face to grip your thighs and lift you up in his strong arms.  Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms came to wrap around his shoulders as he carried you to the bed.   Dean dropped you unceremoniously onto the bed and you bounced with the force.  You watched as Dean made quick work of his flannel and tugged his tee shirt over his head.  You felt the fear tugging at you again as Dean stared down at you with an animalistic gaze that made you feel so much like the prey that you were to him.  The look was so uncharacteristically Dean that your fight or flight instinct kicked in almost instantly. You moved to scramble back over the bed but a large strong hand around your ankle quickly stopped your movement and drug you back toward the edge of the bed.   “Don’t make me have to get the cuffs back out, brat.” Dean chuckled as you began to struggle in his grip.   You were a mess, your mind was reeling and your body was aching.  You were fighting an internal battle, knowing how wrong this situation was but knowing how bad you had always wanted Dean. ‘Jesus why was he doing this to you?’ you thought to yourself.  One minute he was just like your Dean and then the next he was every bit the cold demon that those black peepers made him out to be. Dean could read the expression on your face.  He always had a knack for reading you.  He smirked down at you as his rough hands began to slide up your legs, caressing and kneading your muscles through your jeans until he was bent over you, his hands gripping your hips.  “I know how fucked up this situation is for you darlin’ but you don’t have to fight it.”  His fingers teased under the hem of your t-shirt as he spoke making your body tremble at his touch. “If it makes you feel any better it won’t really matter if you fight anyway.  This is only going to end one way, brat.”   “Dean,” you whimpered as he fingers moved higher sliding your shirt up with the movement. “Please just stop.  We can go back to the bunker, back to Sam and he,”  You were cut off as a growl filled Dean’s throat at the mention of his brother’s name.   Dean’s hand quickly shot out to wrap around your slender throat making you gasp.  His fingers dug into your flesh, this time cutting off your air.  You struggled to inhale short quick breaths as his hand tightened further.  “I don’t want you to ever mention Sammy’s name again.  He isn’t coming to the rescue this time Y/n.” Dean spoke through gritted teeth. “You are mine.  He can’t save you and he can’t have you.”  Dean lowered his face towards you until his lips were almost touching your own.  “Mine.” he growled.   Tears stung your eyes as your lungs burned for air.  Your cheeks flushed red as the black spots began to fill your vision.  Your arms flailed in an effort to beat at Dean’s chest but your strength was faltering as the blackness threatened to consume you.  An instant before your eyes fluttered closed Dean released his grip on your throat allowing you to suck in much need oxygen.  You coughed as you took in large gasps of air.  Dean took the opportunity while you were struggling to regain your breath to rip your tee shirt down the middle freeing your ample breasts to his hungry gaze.  Your heard the soft rumble of his growl filling his throat once more as he hands moved over your newly exposed flesh.  Rough fingers slid down between the valley of your breasts before he cupped each globe harshly and squeezed making you whimper and squirm. Dean didn’t linger long on your breasts before his hands slid down your ribcage, long fingers splayed as they fanned over your stomach down to the waist of your jeans.  You instinctively reached for his wrists as he began to pop open the button and tug your zipper down.  He was quick to swat your hands away and give you a warning glare before he tugged your pants and panties down your creamy thighs in one quick movement.   “Beautiful.” He whispered almost to himself as he took in your naked body, your breasts rising and falling with your heavy ragged breaths, the curve of your hips and the sweet treasure that nestled between your thighs.   Dean moved over your body. His lips crashing back to yours.  His tongue forcing its way back into your mouth.  His mouth ravaged yours until you were struggling to breathe once more.  Dean broke the kiss to sit back, he licked the taste of your from his lips as his hands moved to work the buckle of his belt, taking his time he opened the button and zipper on his jeans.   He watched with amusement as your breath caught in your throat at the site of his hard thick bulge still trapped under the taut denim.   “That’s right brat, this is all for you.” He grinned as he palmed his hard erection through his jeans. “This is what you to do me.”   Dean was off the bed then kicking off the rest of his clothes until he stood over you in all his naked glory. You couldn’t help but stare at his perfection.  Your eyes moved from his cocky grin down over his broad shoulders and sculpted arms to his wide chest, eyes traveling down to his chiseled abdomen, the sweet carved Adonis belt, until your gaze met the hard thick length of his arousal. Dean chuckled as he watched you intently.  He slowly began to crawl up the bed until he was hovering above your trembling body.   “Don’t fight it Y/n.  We both know how bad you want this.”  His voice was soft as he dipped his head to the curve of your neck, his lips leaving wet kisses on the tender already abused flesh, leaving new marks on the skin that would already be bruised by his hand as he bit and sucked.  His large hands teased over your flesh making you whimper and squirm beneath him.  Your body moved on its own as Dean’s fingers slipped between your soft thighs.  His thick digits drug between your smooth petals to tease against your tight wet opening.   “So wet for me baby.” He moaned against your skin as his mouth moved lower.  Teeth nipping at your collarbone before kissing down to your breasts.  Your back arched and you cried out softly as his finger pushed into your hot core.  He moaned as he felt your tight velvet walls clutching at his finger as he began a slow pace inside of you. Your hands fisted at the blankets of the bed as Dean’s mouth continued its downward journey taking time to lavish kisses and nips to each breast before licking a long wet line down your body until his face was hovering over your heated pussy.  You tried closing your thighs as his hungry eyes met yours but his rough hands gripped your flesh tight and he pried them apart easily.  His chest rumbled with a low growl as his mouth clamped down on your pussy making you yelp in surprise.  The thickness that was his tongue lapped slowly from your wet entrance to the taut bundle of nerves at your core.  “Fuck brat, you’re even sweeter than I imagined.”  Dean moaned.   “Dean,” you whimpered as his tongue made lazy circles around your clit before he sucked and nibbled on the small button.  ‘Please, “ you rasped, “stop…I…can’t…”  You words fell on deaf ears.  Your hips jerked involuntarily as he suckled at your clit. The heat spread over your body as he used he mouth on you with expert grace.  His tongue dipping down from your clit to push inside your pussy and then lap his way back upwards.  Whimpered moans flooded the room as he devoured you like a starved man.   You felt the tight coil build low in your body and your hips begin rocking more wantonly to Dean’s mouth.  Your breasts rose and fell with your panted breaths. “Dean…I…fuck.” You groaned as the fire began to spread out from between your thighs and your body began to shake signaling your impending release.  Dean’s lustful gaze peered up at you from between your trembling thighs.  His mouth still clamped against your cunt as he felt your orgasm begin.  You swore you could almost feel him smile against your pussy.  Dean held your gaze as your orgasm threatened to crash over you.  You gasped and your hips bucked in surprise as his moss green eyes suddenly turned to black orbs. The sudden jolt of your hips caused the dam to break within you and you cried out your orgasm.  Your hips bucking as you came hard against Dean’s lips and tongue.  Your hands clawed at the bed as your back arched and your head rolled back.  Dean’s hands tightened on your thighs, holding you still as he licked and sucked against your slick covered pussy, making you ride out your orgasm on his mouth until your body finally stilled under him.   Dean grinned, hips lips and chin glistening with your slick as he climbed up over your body until his hands were on either side of your head and his thick body was nestled between your thighs.  “So sweet brat, I think I could keep my face buried in your little pussy all night.” He lowered his lips towards yours. “Taste.” he growled softly as his lips pressed hard to yours. His tongue slipping into your mouth dominantly.  He kissed you hard as he made you taste yourself on his lips.  You kissed him back almost blindly, your mind was a haze of emotion as you came down from your orgasm.  It wasn’t until you felt Dean’s hand slip between your two bodies and line the head of his hard thick cock against your tight entrance did your eyes snap open wide.  Your soft hands moved to his chest, shoving at his hard body as you turned your head to break the kiss.   “Dean, stop.” You gasped as the tip of his cock nestled into your opening.  Dean’s hand moved from between your bodies to help prop himself up above you as he looked down into your eyes.  His full pink lips curled into a grin as his hips began to inch forward and you felt your slick petals begin to spread around his swollen cockhead. You whimpered as you pushed harder at his chest.  “Dean wait…I’ve never.”   Your words were lost as Dean drove his hips forward plunging his long thick cock into you in one quick brutal thrust.   “Dean!” You screamed as he took your virginity mercilessly.  Tears welled in your eyes as he stretched your pussy wide around his cock.  Even with your wetness and your previous orgasm your walls burned with the sudden invasion.   Dean growled above you. His back bowed and his head dipped down to the curve of your neck as your heated cunt gripped his cock like a vise. “Fuck, so tight baby.” he hissed between clenched teeth as he held himself still, feeling his cock already throbbing inside of your clutching walls.  Slowly Dean began to rock his hips building a rhythm until he was moving harder and faster between your thighs.  The tears spilled from your eyes at the first thrusts of his hips. You hissed in pain as he began to rock his hips harder and faster as he moaned above you. You shut your eyes tight as you winced. Dean was big, it felt like he was ripping you in two.  Dean kept up the hard steady pace until slowly the burning stretch of your walls began to subside.   Dean’s lips curled into a smirk as he looked down at you.  Watching your expression turning from a scrunched up expression of pain to something different. Your lips parted as your breathing grew heavier and your eyelids fluttered as the first moan filled your throat.   As your moans grew louder so did the grunts falling from Dean‘s lips as he drove into you harder.  One large hand moved to grip your hip tight as he began a relentless pace fucking you down into the mattress.   “So fucking good Y/n.  Fuck I love your pussy.” He moaned as his hips pistoned slamming every inch he had into your slick cunt. “No one but me is ever going to fuck this pussy.  Mine.”  Dean panted. “You’re mine.” Your hands clawed at his muscled back as your body began to writhe under him.  Whimpered moans and soft curses began to spill from your lips as every thrust of Dean’s cock into your dripping core brought you closer to the precipice of release.  You gave into the pleasure that was coursing through you unable to deny the heat that was spreading out from your core as Dean’s lips found yours once more. He drank in your moans as you clung to his body.  He knew you were close, your slick walls fluttered around his hardness drawing deep moans from his chest. His hand left your hip to slip between your bodies, his deft fingers finding your swollen clit and he began to rub in hard tight circles.   Dean peered down at you with heavy lidded eyes.  “Cum for me baby.  I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” His thrusts began to falter and he knew his own orgasm was near. “That’s it baby.  I can feel you getting tighter.  Let go for me Y/n. Cum baby.”   The tension tightening low in your belly suddenly snapped at Dean’s words and you screamed out your orgasm.  Your hips bucked uncontrollably as you rode out your release. You screamed his name as he continued to drive into you chasing his own release.  Dean’s head snapped back as he groaned. His orgasm quickly following your own as your pulsing cunt squeezed his cock tighter and your slick coated his throbbing shaft.   “Fuck Y/n!” Dean called out as he filled you to the brim with his sticky seed.  Dean collapsed down onto your quivering body, resting his head into the crook of your neck as you both breathed heavily.  You could feel his heart racing in his chest matching your own rapid beat.   Slowly Dean rolled over onto his back at your side draping one arm over his eyes and the other across his own chest.  You were unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to curl up at Dean’s side and snuggle against him but part of you wanted to run screaming and crying from the room.  You didn’t know what to do so you just laid there trying to process your emotions and the events that had just occurred.  You couldn’t help the tears that began to fill your eyes once more.  You tried to blink them away but they spilled down over your flushed cheeks. Your body began to shake with silent sobs and it brought Dean’s attention back to you.  He rolled to his side, propping himself on one elbow so he could look down at you.   “Shh, don’t cry brat.”  Dean reached out to you and gently cupped your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb.  “Hey, “ he said making you look up at him.  “I know I was rough with you but shit I didn’t know that was going to be your first time.”  He leaned over and kissed your lips softly. “First times are always a bit rocky and awkward but don’t worry you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”   “What?” You choked out not believing the words that just spewed out of Dean’s mouth.   Dean winked down at you before climbing out of the bed and throwing his clothes back on.  You slowly sat up, wincing at the ache between your thighs as you moved.  You watched Dean as he buckled his belt and slipped his tee shirt over his head.   “I gotta go meet Crowley. Want to come get a drink?” He looked at you with raised eyebrows as he slipped his boots back on. “No.” You spoke softly and shook your head still in disbelief that Dean was acting so nonchalant about what just happened.   “You sure brat?” He asked again as he stood up and reached for his jacket.   You felt the anger begin to surge through you as he used his nickname for you yet again.  “Stop calling me that.” you hissed at him.   His head snapped to the side to look at you, the surprise showing on his face.  “Excuse me?” “You don’t get to call me that anymore.  You are not Dean, not my Dean and only my Dean can call me that.” “Are we seriously back on this shit?” Dean grumbled and turned toward you.  He saw the glare in your eyes and met it with his own.  He marched over to where you sat on the edge of the bed and he quickly manhandled you until he had drug your small form up the bed.  You struggled but Dean was able to slap the handcuffs around one of your wrists and just as quick he had cuffed you to the headboard.   “Just in case you decide you want to try to leave.” He winked at you again before kissing you hard.  “Don’t wait up.” He chuckled as he headed out the motel room door.  You screamed in frustration as you tugged at the cuffs.