#I mean the fourth wing fandom is a hot mess

[stargirlbryce]

The way the fourth wing fandom is so used to seeing and creating "AI art" that they genuinely forget how a real attractive person looks like is unsettling.

[unforth]

Ko-Fi Commission for Diminuel

@diminuel here you go love! <3 (sorry it’s not Naga Dean, I got it written before I saw your reply)

Fandom: Supernatural

Ship: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O dynamics, canon adjacent, omega bottom Cas, alpha top Dean, mutual pining and idiots kinda sorta using their words, heat, mentions of Dean/Kevin (in a platonic “alpha helping an omega friend through a heat” way.)

Word count: 1,646 words.

Read on AO3 or read more...(ugh Tumblr is being impossible about formatting sorry it ate all the italics, sigh...you’re probably better off just reading it on AO3)

“Where is he?” Dean demanded, slamming open the door of bunker library and storming into the room. 

Startled, Sam jumped up from his chair, hand reaching for a pistol he didn’t actually have at his side when they were at the Bunker, and then relaxed. “Who, Cas? How did you kn--?”

“No, I mean the fucking Easter Bunny - of course I mean Cas!” Anger and arousal and anger about the arousal simmered beneath Dean’s skin. “And he’s been lighting my phone up with texts like you wouldn’t believe.” This was all wrong. “I didn’t even know he knew how to use the goddamn camera on his phone, much less how to send me a dick pic.” Cas didn’t - couldn’t - want Dean. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, um.” Swallowing, Sam looked away, cheeks flushing. “Maybe you should, uh...I mean, he’s in his room. I thought you two…”

Dean glared, eyes narrowing. “We...what?” 

Come on, Sammy, I dare you to say you legit thought we were a couple, when you know better. He’s a fucking angel, and I’m a fucking mess, and he’d never…

“Nothing! I...look, Dean, I’m not involved. I offered, but he said it had to be you, so...go.”

...I’d never…

“What had to be me?!”

...that’s a total lie, I would if there was even a prayer that he’d want…

“Just go,” ordered Sam, gesturing toward the door and dropping back into his chair to hunch over whatever esoteric nonsense he was reading today.

...but he never would.

Grumbling, Dean obeyed, leaving the library and navigating the tunnels of the Bunker. His nose tickled, an unfamiliar scent permeating the air, and he tried to place it. It smelled a little like Charlie, with the soothing aspect of her betaness easing Dean’s tension even when he didn’t want his tension eased. It smelled a little like Kevin, especially that one annoying time he’d gone into heat, spicy and clinging and inescapable. It didn’t smell like Cas, who never smelled like anything. Jimmy had been an omega, Dean thought, but if Cas had a presentation type, Dean had never caught a whiff of it.

It smelled good, tempting, taunting. An itch teased down Dean’s spine, a whisper of desire thickening his dick.

It smelled wrong, like it didn’t belong, like Dean shouldn’t be following it.

Except he had to check on Cas.

Except the scent intensified the closer he drew to Cas’ room.

Except that Dean didn’t think he could stop himself pursuing the source of that enticing aroma if his life fucking depended on it.

Finally, he stood before Cas’ door. The mystery aroma suffused the air, and the explicit selfies Cas had sent him suggested intriguing possibilities, and Dean stood there, paralyzed.

If he added all the pieces up, it was hard to imagine anything other than that, somehow, Cas was an omega and had gone into heat.

And, if that was the case...the last thing Dean should be doing was knocking on that door.

Cas did not want Dean...but apparently, when he was in heat, maybe he did. Dean would never be that alpha. He would never--

“Dean?” Cas’ shout, frantic and deep and raspy and fucking sex incarnate, was barely muffled by the door. “Dean, you came! Please...oh, please…”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, heart aching. “I’m here.” He should walk away. “But I can’t…”

“I know,” Cas moaned, the scent intensifying. “...I know, I know, you don’t want...I mean...but…” The air was awash with musk and a heavy scent like a thick fog descending, and Dean’s erection stiffened. “...but just this once...please…”

Catching a lip between his teeth, Dean furious debated in his head as Cas continued to beg. On the one hand, Dean was never one to take advantage of an omega in heat. On the other hand, there was a world of difference between scenting a stranger and getting a dumbass alpha boner, and helping a friend through a difficult time. When Kevin had been desperate, Dean had offered himself up, after all...consent was a bitch in cases like those but friends were friends, and working it out after the fact was a time honored tradition...if Dean went in and helped Cas, it wouldn’t be any different.

“...Dean, I’m begging...I need you so badly...need you...only you…”

Right. Not a bit of difference. Nope. Not like Kevin really is just a friend, whereas Cas is…

“...I’ll do anything…”

...is everything...

“...I’m so hot…”

...is nothing...nothing to me...we’re nothing to each other…there’s nothing between us...

“I can’t,” Dean muttered, hoping like hell Cas could hear him, hoping like hell Cas couldn’t hear him and might stop babbling enticingly long enough for Dean to escape. “Cas...look...I get you feel all...some kinda way...right now...but you don’t actually…” Dean laid an arm over the door, leaned his forehead against it, and took a deep breath despite himself. “...you don’t actually want me…” 

Fuck, Cas smelled amazing.

“I do!” said Cas frantically. “I do, please - I need you.” He sounded like he was sobbing, and Dean’s heart could have broken - he wanted to help so badly, wanted to believe Cas so, so badly. 

But...

“...you don’t…”

...he couldn’t.

“I’ll show you!”

Surprised, Dean took a step back from the door and blinked as if the dull gray would tell him what the fuck Cas meant.

Naw, don’t need X-Ray vision to know what he means. He’s horny, and of course between Sam and I’d pick me, I’m hung, and Sam’s a little bitch. When I open this door, he’ll be on his bed, presenting a slick hole, and if my willpower doesn’t snap it’ll be a fucking miracle.

“Please!”

And even knowing all that, Dean couldn’t resist the desperate catch in Cas’ voice.

Fuck, but Dean was gonna hate himself when this was over.

Fuck, but I already hate myself…

With a resigned sigh, Dean pushed the door open and stared.

He’d been partially right - Cas was on the bed presenting a slick hole.

The wings were a surprise, though.

And Cas’ scent was fucking insane, powerful, unearthly, drawing Dean into the room like a siren’s call. He’d heard some nonsense about how a true mate might smell and had never believed a lick of it, and he didn’t believe it now, no matter how amazing Cas smelled, no matter how drawn to him Dean felt - this had to be some bizarre angel mojo, no “meant to be” involved, for all that Cas moaned like a damn pornstar when the first gust of Dean’s scent swept before him into the room. There was no fucking way this was Jimmy’s humanity at work. This was pure angel grace insanity, complete with black feathers, and Dean wanted...Dean needed…

“Bedside table!” Cas gasped, craning his neck to look back at Dean. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown, his cheeks coated with sweat and tears.

Who’d’a thought Cas would have protection next to the bed...good thinking though, I’m about 2.3 seconds from sinking in balls deep, and--

Dean tugged the drawer open.

There weren’t any condoms in the drawer.

There was a book with a leather cover and all the hallmarks of being a journal. 

“Read it - please read it - and then help me, if you still want to - I’ll understand if you don’t - but I need...need...and it can only be you, it has to be you, has to be…” Cas’ supplications dissolved into sobs as, confused, Dean withdrew the book and leafed through the pages…

...Dean, it said on one page...my mortal love, it said on another...anything for him, it said on yet another...doesn’t want me, on another page...here for him no matter what, on another...don’t need more than this, on another...but I want him, on another...page upon page of devotion and care written in Cas’ unmistakable neat handwriting.

Impossible.

The book dropped from Dean’s numbed fingers.

He can’t want me.

He can’t think I don’t want him.

“Dean!”

He couldn’t possibly…

Slowly, Dean turned toward the bed. Cas panted desperately, rocking back against nothing, eyes fixed on Dean...no, fixed on the bulge in Dean’s pants, his gaze was definitely directed down with the look of a starving man...and Dean stared.

...why would he…

“...need you…” Cas whimpered pathetically.

...but he does.

Certain this must be a dream, Dean crossed the scant steps separating them, fumbling hands undoing his belt on the first step, letting his pants drop on the second, stepping out of them on the third and fourth, and then he was beside the bed, and Cas was displayed before him like a banquet, and Dean’s cock was so hard it ached, and the scent of angel heat made him dizzy, and there was nothing, nothing between them except years of devotion and uncountable words of near-confessions that never said everything and desperation and pining and need and devotion…

...there was nothing between them, not a shred of cloth, not a single inhibition, not a hint of uncertainty.

Dean climbed onto the bed.

Though...they would have a fuckton to talk about once Cas’ heat was over.

Or it’s a dream, and I’ll wake up...either way, awkward feels talks can wait...hell, they can wait forever if I’m lucky...and Cas needs me now.

“Don’t worry,” murmured Dean as he pushed forward and the head of his dick breached that perfect, tight pucker for the first time. “I’ll take care of you.”

Everything could wait until Cas was sated - until Dean had been the alpha that Cas deserved.

“I know you will,” Cas whispered, rocking back against him. “You always do...always...always…”

Yes, Cas...always...always here for you...always your alpha...always your Dean…

...always yours.