AND SOME PORN, FOR GOOD MEASURE (sauce: dreamlittleyo.livejournal.com):

Dean's been like this for days, and Sam is starting to wonder if the spell will ever wear off. Bobby said it would. Bobby said these things just take time and all Sam has to do is keep Dean out of trouble, maybe get him laid to take the edge off.

Bobby didn't mean it like this, of course, but the man's not here to see them. He's not here to witness what a mess Dean is, and if he were, there's no way he could fault Sam for giving in.

When Sam's not touching him, Dean is miserable. He's in constant motion, hips bucking uselessly into the air and fingers twisting in the bedsheets, his mouth a ceaseless stream of, "Sammy, fuck please, fucking fuck me already, I need you!" He strains against the handcuffs Sam's been using to keep him out of trouble—strains so hard he's broken through the skin of wrists a couple of times, and how the hell is Sam supposed to just leave him like that?

When Sam is touching him, Dean is a different sort of beast. He writhes and moans under Sam's hands, arching deliciously beneath the weight of Sam's body, and even then he can't get enough. Sam tried just blowing him first, but Dean wanted more. Tried fingering him open at the same time, but Dean just writhed all the harder. The only time Dean is in a realm anywhere near calm is when Sam's cock is in him, so that's what they do.

Sam fucks him for as long as he can hold off his own orgasm, then jerks Dean off for awhile, giving him Sam's fingers to suck on, and feels guilty all the while that it takes him so long to recharge. Seconds, minutes, hours too long without being able to give Dean what he needs.

By the time the curse finally ends, Dean is a mess and the bed sheets are unsalvageable.

Dean swears colorfully as the effects of the supernatural roofie finally bleed from his system and leave him able to feel the state of his ass and his abraded wrists.

Sam doesn't mention that his own dick is feeling chafed to hell. Dean's discomfort trumps his by far.

"So," he asks as he unlocks the handcuffs and releases his brother. "Can you stand? I'm pretty sure you need breakfast." It was all Sam could do to keep his brother hydrated through the ordeal.

"Shut up," says Dean. But he rolls off the bed on unsteady legs and dons the sweats and hoodie that Sam hands him. A shower would be a good idea, too, but food is a little more pressing right now.

"I could carry you," Sam offers, and he doesn't mean it to be condescending. He just aches at the pained, fucked-out way his brother is walking and can't think of any other way to help.

"Fuck you," says Dean, but he says it with tired affection as he follows Sam toward the door.

Apparently, Japanese have to make the show into one of bishie anime too.

http://wwws.warnerbros.co.jp/supernatural/

>>44002
NOOOOOOOOOOOO JAPAN!!!!!!
NUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!

Ok this actually does look sort of awesome but it could also be such fail
IDK what to think :/
Why does japan love supernatural so much more then the USA? It seems to be so much more of a hit in places that aren't here.

>>44002

Looks like Madhouse is doing it. With direction from Kripke too. Not gonna lie, that doesn't sound horrible.

(And since when does the USA not love SPN?)

>>44002

>>44094
Since the fact it is on the CW. No one I have ever met watches the show, In japan I have seen popular magazines go on and on about the show, we also don't care to create an animated cartoon of the show.

I mean, The ratings for supernatural in the USA are behind Smallville and that show fucking sucks.

>>44113

Give Smallville SOME leeway. It used to not be a bad show back when Lex was still on it. I stopped watching after he left.

>>44164
Lex isn't even in the show anymore? He was the fuckin stealth protagonist. Man, what's the point...

>>44240
I think I stopped watching around season 3, I was like... shouldn't this fool know how to fly by now?

Can we have less teen drama and more amazing superhero?

>>44002

Oh god, anyone that likes this show and anime, and knows the history of the fandom and kripke..TOO.MUCH.WIN.

lolololol character designs

>>44669
why does sam look like a sexier teen version of spike from cowboy bebop?

mama likey.

>>44678

arg...can't unsee

why is sam not huge? and why is dean not the hot one?

>>44669
He's so skinny! What.

>>44704

agreed. Its terrible.

>>44704
Really simple reasons, actually. Season 1 and 2 Sam was much smaller. He's also about a head taller than Dean based on these sheets, so he is still huge.
The reason he looks better than Dean comes down to the fact that the character designer usually deals in tall, lanky characters ala Trigun. He's not as comfortable making short, stumpy guys. Also, I think you guys are being overly critical, considering what this COULD have ended up looking like.

>>44669
Apart from the horrible skinny legs, I wish they'd give him his characteristic nose, at least.

>>44668>>44669>>44754

Everybody calm down. Just focus on this >>44776 awesome shoop! It's so fucking pretty...and a tad funny.

>>44799

Yeah no one notices the hot virgin angel? Blasphemers!

>>44668
haha, oh boy. Dean's design is that of a classical hero's side-kick or background character. No (japanese) hero got no bangs.

>>44669

... Wait.

Is Sam wearing skinny jeans?

And I just took a huge art dump on your anime/manga bitching :D

>>45229

jfc that is fucking ugly. Why does Castiel look like the the spawn of every Final Fantasy protagonist?

>>45237

Ugly or not, we should just appreciate the other art. Play nice kiddos.

>>45226
This is like everything I hate about fandom in one picture.

>>45248

lolol i know, what's with the thread ruining? :|

god, this thread turned ugly

>>45248>>45237

STFU stop bitching. No one cares. We're here to look at art and get along. Go cry to another forum or some shit. We dont care.

Now take a look at the hot injured angel.

>>45332
butthurt much?

Hurt!Cas is fine as long as we avoid the incredible fail that is wooby!Cas.

Woah guys, chill. Have some not really porn.

>>45335
Ah let them bicker. We know one is trying to keep the peace and one is just a dick.

Anyway! That is pretty art.

>>45334
Agreed, woobie Cas is bafflingly OOC.

Don't know if this was posted in the last thread, and I guess it ain't to everyone's taste, but I love these lumpy, grouchy bastards right here

>>45335
daw, I have a soft spot for rps.

>>45329
chubby blond dean is my fucking favorite

>>46921
I use to post this on SPN boards on /tv/ to get SPNfags fighting

good times

>>46922
is he really getting fat? or is he just getting bigger muscles and you can't tell because most muscular guys without form fitting shirts look chubby?
anyone got a comparison photo from like, season 1 and 5?

>>46924
don't worry about it if he is or isn't

It is just my trolling images.
I have tons of them just for SPNfags

hey guys you read this dean/castiel fic??

http://bauble.livejournal.com/61286.html

I don't think I have ever burst into tears like this fic made me do.
I can't stop crying. I am such a faggot.

>>46957
http://archiveofourown.org/works/91894

Here's a Dean/Castiel fic that's happy (and hilarious and awkward in the way they do best) to cheer you up, sadanon.

>>46929
Ah. I love the middle panel. That is funny :B.

>>46957

I too join in your faggotry.

>>46929

>>47066
lets burst into tears together and hold eachother

>>46996
I had read that a week ago. But it is a great rec and I love it.

pic was pre hell dean

>>46996

I don't know a damn thing about Supernatural besides brief mentions on TVtropes and the fact that I just read this fic.

It was fuckin' fantastic anyways. Now I might have to find out if it's better with more context.

>>47370
Check out her other fic, Asunder. It's an AU that shares nothing plot-and-setting-wise with the main series but some themes, so it won't help in furthering your education. But damn, it's fantastic.

THIS MEME HAS PORN IN

source: http://spacefragments.livejournal.com/260592.html

>>47486

and is apparently in bits

http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/2172.html

new kink meme :)

>>46957
I want to slap you idiots for not only finishing, but crying at any fic in which Castiel doesn't understand that he is crying. Seriously, anything involving that trope needs to DIAF.

>>48816
>hey guys I have no soul

yeah the internet will do that to you.
But as long as you aren't fapping to dead things and gore you will be ok.

I haven't posted this pic on /tv/ in months

community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/2172.html

Late, but I'm sure you guys will enjoy the porn here. If you want to write porn, you've only got one more day to post anonymously.

I really, really hope this is allowed here, since it's technically 3D. Anyway, Cas with yogurt!jizz on his face.

>>50842
I hate this picture more than anything else in SPN fandom.

>>50876

That was way harsh, Tai

>>50876
Lol, sorry dude. I'm new to the fandom and have no idea of it's history. Forgive me?

>>50907
It is/was the picture that represented the comm "Mishaland" on LJ, and members spammed the hell out of fandom secrets for months with it. I got so sick of it I wish there was a way to recognize that picture and make it never appear on my screen again.

>>50945
>reads fandom secrets

I see your problem right there

>>50949
I stopped over 6 months ago nonnie, but you might have a good point.

Does anyone know of any fics with facials? I prefer Dean/Castiel, but I'll read whatever. I just want someone to take it in the face.

Thread, it would make me happy in the same stupid way this show does if you didn't die.

>>45392
Me too.

>>53874
So have some more from them.

guys. GUYS.

sauce: http://daggomus-prime.livejournal.com/16045.html

>>54039
HOLY SHITBALLS.

Revamped this damn thing a little. Hope it pleases anon!

Pairing: Crowley/Dean
Running Kinks: Minor bondage, dub-con, muscle/scars/massage
Minor Kinks: Sass, spanking, suit, partial-dress, and a few others.

Warnings: Explicit NC-17, of course. Unbeta'd. First time writting for SPN, potential OOCness. Stupid references.

Spoilers: Up to Two Minutes to Midnight.



“You know, there’s quite a lot to be said about a dream,” Mused Crowley, lilting and cool as he brought the wide-rimmed glass to his lips. Dean didn’t just see the demon watching him, but he could actually feel those dark eyes coasting down the stretch of his body.

Dean feels very vulnerable. He’s splayed out on his back across what he assumes is a bed by the way it gives beneath him when he breathes, the way he doesn’t have to be looking at the disguise of a man to know he shifts subtley from time to time. Honestly, the situation has left him stunned for a moment and he hasn’t yet given any thought to his surroundings other than this must be bad, very bad. It gives Crowley the advantage, one which the bastard takes to continue prattling.

“The human brain has all sorts of ways of relaying a message. The subconscious is a fascinating little ball of subliminal messaging, something I assume you rather fancy if that noise you listen to is any indication.” Dean has a perfect view of Crowley’s side profile from where he is laying. The King of the Crossroads is donned in a suit that, unsurprisingly, looks like it came from the window of an Armani suit store he passed once in Boston. In fact, Dean’s almost positive that’s what it is.

Crowley has paused to look at him now, as if giving Dean the chance to give his input on the matter. Dean stares at him, just stares, and hopes the intensity will be enough to give him the answers he needs as well as convey a certain level of threat to the demon. Crowley smoulders a little in return before the expression slithers into a self-satisfied smirk. Dean wants to punch him, but when he moves he quickly realizes that he hasn’t just been resting his arms over his head this entire time. His wrists tighten in protest- his shoulders pull and ache. Flopping back, he kicks violently to find that his legs are still free. It is an uneasy comfort and his chest heaves with a spurr of quick, angry breaths. His hands have been bound and he is naked. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t happening to him!

“I dislike Chianti,” Crowley goes on, impervious to Dean’s plight, taking a sip from his glass of red wine, “If you were going to go Italian, why couldn’t you have given me a nice Barolo? I wouldn’t have minded Amarone either. But Chianti? Honestly, Dean, Alistair was more of a Lecter than I...”

“Don’t.” Dean growls sharply, finding his voice, and the demon pauses subtly. The man is trying to stifle the tremble of his body, but it’s hard when he’s so beside himself with rage. How fucking dare this slimy bastard...? “You stinkin’ sonovabitch. You’d better untie me. Right now. I swear to God I will kill your candy ass if I have to break out.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we have an agenda to keep tonight. Also, it would be most unfortunate for you to kill Crowley for something he had no hand in. After all, this is just a dream.”

“Bullshit. Bull fuckin’ shit. If those winged bastards can go through dreams, demons can, so-”

“Perhaps they can. However, you and I both know that Crowley is a very busy boy. Don’t you think he has other things to be doing with his time? Hunting down the drop spot for little brother’s cage, for example? I don’t know how you think you’ll wriggle your way out of that one, by the way. I suppose you’d better start working on your deep-dish pizza.”

“I think he likes to dick around and fuck with us when he gets the chance. Like taking Bobby’s soul, for example?

“Be that as it may, I assure you that I am just a figment of your subconscious, following the beat of your drum. Perhaps your energies would be best put into concentrating on what we’re going to do, and what you’re trying to tell yourself. You may call me Crowley, though, if it suits you.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean bucks and writhes virulently, but whatever is tying him to the bed holds him fast. It’s slick and smooth, but fucking strong; silk of the bloodiest red. Crowley-not-Crowley watches him with the disinterest of a parent waiting for their spoiled child’s tantrum to subside, but there is a sort of heat in those jet eyes that seems just a little predatory too. He finishes his glass of wine and sets it off somewhere that Dean can’t see.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” The demon shifts toward him, and in the back of his mind, Dean sees the glitter of knives that can cut through flesh like butter, deep and throbbing or thin and burning. He sees hooks looped through hs collarbones that will simultaneously hold and pull him apart. That’s what demons do. He closes his eyes and leans away, holding his breath. No, no, no...

What lands upon his bare chest, though, is warm and firm. Crowley is touching him with his palms spread wide over his pecs, sliding them slowly up the length of his arms, stroking gently. Dean cracks an eye open when there’s a sudden pressure on his hips, able to observe that the demon has actually chosen to straddle and sit on him. A croak of a growl rattles in the back of his throat and he bucks his hips in attempt to dislodge the other. That was a bad idea- a very bad idea, because his body stirred with interest and began to move on toward Phase 2. He was very still then, sending the abort signal over and over to a need that hadn’t seen an outlet in months.

“This is the most fucked up Freddy Kreuger shit ever, man, what the fuck.” Somewhat bargaining now, it seemed. He sincerely doubted that the other’s intention was just some sort of naked massage and fondling his junk, something he was really uncomfortable with in the first place. Maybe he could dissuade the fruitbat somehow, make it so he didn’t want this anymore.

“Now you’re just being silly.” Crowley tutted at him, but there was a deep chuckle in his chest, hands moving to slowly flex on and off Deans arms. The man, in turn, couldn’t help but lock up a little in response, tilting his head back to glare. However, the demon was no longer looking at his face, but his body as a whole. His hands moved down again, over his shoulders and down to his sternum where he gripped the man’s biceps and let the muscle work itself through his fingers. It felt sort of pleasant- Crowley has big hands and they’re surprisingly gentle, pulling first at the skin and then working deep into the muscle, rolling the heels of his palms in a way that excites a bundle of nerves and makes him want to arch into it. He doesn’t, thank god, but his legs curl beneath him, digging into the sheets in a way that’s similar to how his teeth set on edge.

“C-come on, man, what’s this gonna do for you? Besides, you’re really heavy and--”

“Shhh,” Crowley coaxed him, leaning in so close Dean thinks the dude is going to kiss him (which shuts him up quick enough). Luckily, though, Crowley likes to talk and he opts for that instead, “I really don’t want to have to gag you, love. Just lay back and enjoy yourself, hm?” And while Dean could say more, he feels his eyes dip down to the pale sliver of skin that is the demon’s throat, close enough to bite. The black fabric of Crowley’s dress shirt is open at the collar, loose enough that he can see the beginnings of sparse curls at his sternum. Isn’t Crowley usually wearing a tie?

“Aw, fuck...” He groans, head falling back. It’s not so much for the feeling of Crowley sending appreciative fingers along his abs (though that is something he used to like girls doing) but more for the silk tying his wrists and the realization of what it must be. His breath comes a little more thickly now, but he lays still as the other male’s hands move over him. The chance to rip the demon’s throat out with his teeth has passed as Crowley has leaned back to better watch him again. It also feels pretty good in the most awful way- a lot of the tension in his torso has been erradicated by those adamant fingers coaxing into the muscle, and the ache between his legs is more of a comfortable throb now. He could fall asleep (though he arguably already is) to this. That’s when Crowley leans over and dips his tongue into the hollow of Dean’s collarbone.

“You know, intercourse in a dream can mean so much more than sexual desire. In fact, it usually has nothing at all to do with it,” The demon’s lips descend slowly down his sternum, teeth scraping along the thin skin while his hands take hold of either side of Dean’s ribcage to both hold him down and admire the stressed flex of sinew. Dean wants to panic, but honestly can’t work up the energy to do more than tilt his head back and swallow, dig his heels into the sheets. The places Crowley left behind are moist with saliva, beginning to chill in the open air. Dean has been burned with a hot iron rod before; Crowley’s mouth reminds him of it to a lesser extent, the trail down his torso leaving a scorching pattern minus the smell of cooking flesh. “Just for example, sex between family members can mean forgiveness for some lasting grudge.”

“You are one mouthy motherfucker.” Dean snarls lowly, and immediately regrets it as the demon’s teeth clamp down over one of his nipples. He chokes back a sound but he can’t stop his hips from bucking a little. Skin slides over fabric and the ache gets so much worse. He wants to do it again just to give himself some relief but he isn’t quite in the mindset of giving in yet. Casual nips down his torso make him bite the inside of his cheek, though it’s just a sting and (unfortunately) apparently not enough to wake him up. After repeatedly going through constant torture in his dreams, this isn’t so much as a papercut, and yet, it’s something he’s not accustomed to at all. He’s been killed in his dreams before and still couldn’t wake up without Sammy there, shaking him back into the real world. Never, though, has he endured a torture like this, set between disgust and pleasure beneath another man’s tongue.

“Dean, Dean, Dean...” Crowley purrs, allowing that heated appendage of his to follow the line of a scar that doesn’t exist on Dean’s real body. Belatedly, the man realizes his skin is littered with pale marks, some raised and some not. Some of them he remembers well, some of them are completely foreign. They can’t exist now, don’t, on his real body. Crowley seems fascinated with them, tracing them with his fingers and tongue. Dean can’t help but shiver, tucking his face against the one real momento of his body, the scorched red handprint on his upper arm. Cas has pulled him out of the Fire before, but the angel can’t help him now.

“I think you like me, Dean. Not in that way, you ninny, although I couldn’t blame you if you did,” The demon pauses to slide further down Dean’s pelvis, and the man’s breath hitches traitorously as the seat of Crowley’s pants pass over the most obvious place and then settles atop his knees. “I think you’d like to trust me, but your instinct says you need to get rid of me the first chance you get. Along with that little stunt with Bobby, your hands have been tied.”

Dean allows his legs to be pressed apart, allows the demon to settle between his thighs and work his fingers along the muscle. All he can really focus on is the pounding of his heart against his ears and Crowley’s hands -oh, his hands!- ghosting along his skin and teasing the stress out of his muscles, lowering his head to--

There’s a strangled note in his throat as the demon presses his dick against his belly, licking a long stripe up the ropey vein on the underside. Dean’s fingers wrap around the tie and yank hard, teeth clenched together so hard his jaw creaks. Oh fuck, oh god. It feels like all of the blood in his head has been called into his cock. He has to shut his eyes to keep the world from spinning. Crowley is making a pleased sound, fucking purring as if he’s just been presented fillet mignon on a silver platter. He mouths at Dean’s cock slow and easy, getting a feel for the heated skin while his victim attempts to kick away. Only when Dean eeks out a shameful whimper does the demon finally decide to put it in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive head and hollowing out his cheeks with a forceful pull. The man makes sounds like he’s in pain, and he is, but it feels so fucking good he can’t bring himself to form any coherent sentence beyond “stop” and “Christ” and “no”. His skin is flushed with the forced arousal, eyes open but unseeing. Once, he looks down to see Crowley’s mouth working over his cock and has to look away. He can’t shut out the sound, though, wet noises along with the demon’s pleased sounds. Every note Crowley makes goes right to the skin of his cock. It’s too much, Dean thinks, he’s going to come in Crowley’s mouth and the demon is going to lick him up like cream. At first he fights it, but then realizes that the sooner he reaches consummation, the sooner he might be freed of this godawful nightmare.

Just as he’s about to push himself over the edge, though, Crowley pulls back. His growl of distressed is muffled when the world spins around. Suddenly, he’s on his belly, and Crowley’s hands are pushing him down, down, into the sheets. Dean swears violently, tries to rub off in the sheets, but a hard smack against one of his upturned cheeks thuroughly dissuades him. The blonde cries out, startled and affronted. Seriously?!

“Fun’s not over yet, love,” He can hear the sneer in the demon’s accent, or maybe Crowley’s voice just got rough from guzzling his cock. Either way, it doesn’t sound good, and Dean snarls wordlessly. The moment for him to get off is gone now. It wouldn’t be hard to work up the momentum again, but it isn’t likely Crowley will let him get his rocks off so easy. Dean doesn’t want to give him another excuse to slap his ass again, so he lays still, grimaces even as the demon’s hands take hold of his back and rubs. Slowly, though, the expression will droop off of his face, replaced by slack lips that just allow him to huff annoyance while the kinks between his shoulders are worked out. Once again, he’s reminded that Crowley seems to know exactly what he’s doing. It’s infuriating to be in such a position where his control is basically null, to know that the demon is totally above it all, even when he’s catering to Dean. The man can’t quite wrap his head around why the other is even bothering to do this much. They both know what’s coming, after all, so why not get it over and done with? He’s never imagined a demon being so, well... altruistic. Even if this is supposed to be a dream. But Crowley is attentive, stroking and kneading at his tension, working him slowly into complacency.

“You’re doing so well,” The demon murmurs, and he actually sounds sincere. He finds a tender spot near the collumn of Dean’s spine and the man can’t help but groan in pleasure, trembling a little when Crowley obliges and repeats the motion. Eventually Dean feels like he’s melting away, mewling and making sounds he never thought he was capable of, muffling many of them into a pillow when it gets to be too much.

“Just do it,” He pants eventually, “Just... get it over with.”

“In time.” Crowley promises him, and continues to massage him until Dean is untangled in a state of bliss. Then the demon touches him, reaches around and takes his neglected cock in hand. It’s flagged a little with the lack of friction, but is quick to jump to attention again when Crowley squeezes. Dean himself jolts a little, shaken out of his stupor. This time, though, he parts his thighs a little- he lets the demon stroke him until he’s dripping precome and shuddering a moan into the sheets. The suave dealmaker twirls the thick substance through his fingers and pulls his hand away. Dean doesn’t complain, breathing slowly until he feels pressure at his backside. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done this sort of thing in his dreams before, but Crowley is incredibly thorough. His fingers press in, slick with spit and precome, and work him apart slowly. Dean is tense, grunting occasionally when he’s stretched, but he’s come to accept that this is going to happen whether he wants it or not. If you can’t get what you want, at least take the road that’s least painful, all that bullshit. Eventually, Crowley finds the place inside of him that will make him close his eyes and cant his hips up, hissing through his teeth as the fingers rub gratuitously. “Good boy.”

Dean knows everything is about to wrap up when he hears fabric shuffling behind him and hot breath wafting against his neck. Crowley pulls him up onto his knees, sliding an erection beween Dean’s ass that feels thicker than anything he’s ever dealt with. A few thrusts of that is all the Winchester has to prepare himself with before the demon slides home. Unlike before, he’s not slow, nor soft. Dean is crying out in both surprise and pain as he’s penetrated to the core, almost sobbing while cursing Crowley’s name as the demon pulls back and thrusts again. Of course, he’s been stretched and lubed enough that he won’t bleed, and after the first push Crowley graciously reverts to more shallow jerks of his hips. The demon is chuckling, probably enjoying his petty shock, but there’s something strained about the noise that sends a viscious strain of satisfaction through Dean’s chest. Not so cool now, huh?

Crowley suddenly thrusts in deep again and Dean’s knees give out on him. He’s holding onto the tie that extends to the bed like a lifeline and giving short cries as the invasion pumps in and out of him, occasionally hitting the spot that makes him shamefully okay with all of this. Dean isn’t sure who he hates more at the moment- Crowley for doing this to him or himself for liking it even a little. The demon is holding onto his hips so hard it could bruise, pulling Dean’s ass up into an angle that will allow his cock go in smooth and deep. Somehow, though, it’s still rough and dirty, and while Dean doesn’t ask for more, his hips do eventually tip up into it. That makes Crowley growl, makes him shift his hands up to Dean’s shoulders and use them as leverage to thrust in hard and deep. Dean can hear and feel the lewd slap of the demon’s hips against his ass and is somehow more turned on by it. His knees can’t hold him up anymore but Crowley’s thrusts heft him off the bed, so deep his pelvis can keep Dean suspended. It’s good, Jesus fucking Christ, he swears he’s not queer but this is really good. He knows he’s not in reality because there are points where he isn’t looking through his own eyes, but at the scene as a whole, watching the demon thrust into him, watching his body take it with a whore’s fascination, spine curved where they’re joined and head thrown back.

“Untie me,” He gasps, pleading, between moans and grunts. His arms are killing him. Crowley slows, considering, and Dean strains a cry as he smoothly brushes against his prostate. The demon knows exactly what he’s doing because he eases back and forth at the same angle, rubbing. Finally, though, the other reaches over him (pushing further in) and tugs the tie free. Just like that. Dean collapses onto the bed with relief, ass still up in the air for Crowley to squeeze musingly. Dean could probably struggle away now but, hey, might as well finish up, right? Not that he isn’t pissed, not that he’s really feeling this past the physical ecstasy, but they’ve already come this far and he really wants something out of it. The demon spreads his legs further apart and continues to fuck him like there wasn’t any interruption, giving out shaky breaths and the occasional slip of the human’s name when Dean uses his arms to push back a little. Eventually the broader male is stretched out over him, laying on top of Dean and fucking him balls-deep into the sheets. Dean can’t tell what sound comes from who anymore as they grind against each other with wanton grace. No one has ever been so deep in him before, and Crowley is rocking smooth and strong, fragmenting him with each delicious slide of their bodies. Dean can smell him, is intoxicated by the heat of the other’s lips against the back of his neck and the teeth that catch in his shoulder. The man forgets that he hates the other and consigns to letting the demon fuck him for as long as he wants, doesn’t even care about the weight.

Eventually, though, it’ll be over. Dean’s cock has been throbbing with the wish for release, but no matter how good Crowley is moving inside him, he can’t come. He’s been pushed into total incoherence a few times, but it takes the demon’s hand around him to finally reach his orgasm. Crowley’s fingers squeeze him into bliss and milk him hard until he’s coming all over the sheets, not hard but so, so satisfying, like sinking into a motel’s heated pool after a hard day. It must have brought the other over the edge as well because suddenly there’s moisture running down Dean’s thighs and he feels completely dirty but isn’t at a point where he can give a shit anymore. The demon gives a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out. The bed bounces a little as he flops a little less gracefully next to Dean. The aforementioned human can only move his eyes to see the other, noting that Crowley is still wearing the top of his suit. Son of a bitch.

“I hope you learned something from this.” The demon is saying, producing a cigarello seemingly from out of nowhere.


“Seriously?” Dean asks him, and Crowley tips a brow. He lights the thing up and hands it to Dean, who takes it. No lung cancer in dreams. Because that’s all it fucking is; a dream.

>>53875

Oh man I am lolling pretty hard at Sam's bitch face in the last couple panels.

>>54699
Same.

Anyone knows where the fuck is the SPN meme? Everything right now seems to be closed for some random reason.

I want to request a Sam/Dean fic in which they're forcefully bonded in the same style as Harry and Draco in Anna Fugazzi's Bond. I'm dying for something like this.