Mind controlled!Slave!Castiel? (*>.<*) *runs away in shame*
Hey!! Don’t run away! I’m the one writing this you know? ;D Hope it’s up to your expectations!
For all the years spent dreading to become a demon, when it does happen, unexpectedly, Dean finds out that there’s some perks to it.
For one thing, he doesn’t give a flying shit about anything anymore. Being relieved of the burden of guilt and responsability is so refreshing he, ironically enough, feels more alive than ever.
For another, there’s the power. He spent a good portion of his life fighting demons, but he didn’t truly realize how powerful they were until he became one himself, and was able to compare the differences. Then again, he’s not just about any demon.
He grins as he licks his blade, enjoying the tingling sensation of the power that connects them, he, the Knight bearer of the Mark of Cain, and his beloved first Blade.
Dean has always been a good hunter, to the point that most of the supernatural world wants him dead. Famous and hated. But also feared. Now? Now he’s even more famous and hated, but also even more feared. And rightfuly so.
As it turned out, Dean now has many powers. He’s not just incredibly strong and fast and basically immortal. He can also teleport, use telekinesis, and a whole range of other interesting stuffs.
Mind control is a recent discovery.
The first time he uses it, he doesn’t really realize. Nowadays anyone that knows him tries to stay as far away from him as possible. Many tried killing him at first. All of them failed, badly. When they realized that he would not go down, they stayed out of his way.
Sometimes, though, one was still bold enough to try. Hunters, mostly. And it was a hunter that Dean forced to kneel by the sheer force of his will. He spared his life, out of boredom, but still parted with a resonating laugh.
Not too long after, it was an angel that Dean used this power on. This time, he noticed how fishy it was, and tried again. And again. By the time he was done, the angel was staring vacantly while standing in his underwear on one leg with his arms spread, wistling the Canadian anthem.
After that, Dean made sure to practice on his preys during his hunts (since yes, Dean still hunts, just for the pleasure of it). He even managed to make a vampire cut her own head off. With a butter knife.
It’s been about two months since the last person that tried to take him down got sent back home with their tail between their legs. Two weeks since his last hunt. Dean is fucking bored and ready to make a trip to Hell just to kick some ass when the door of his motel room is slammed open.
Dean looks up, amused that after all these years, Cas hasn’t lost his tendency of going for grand entrances. He stops licking his blade and slouches further down on the bed, one arm behind his neck, the other drumming the blade on his thigh.
"Look what the cats dragged in. A featherless, powerless angel."
Cas stops at the foot of the bed, back rigid and hands curled into loose fists alongside his body.
"Dean. You need to-"
Dean smirks, loving how he finally managed to use the trick he saw Cain use on Crowley about a year ago. Cas frowns and opens his mouth, but blinks when no sound comes out.
"What I need now is…"
He pauses briefly, thinking. There’s so many things he can make Cas do. But first, he wants that stupid coat off.
"… To see you naked."
Alright, so maybe he didn’t mean to say naked at first, but since the words are out of his mouths… He sees Cas frown, resisting, and pushes harder. Cas gasps silently, hands raising shakily to grasp the flaps of his coat and pulling it off his shoulders, letting it flop on the floor with a soft sound.
Unconsciously, Dean licks his lips. There’s something about seeing Cas obey him so easily that he really, really likes. And he can’t help but become curious about what’s exactly under these clothes. He straightens up and leans forward. Cas looks panicked as he starts unbottoning his shirt, but the longer he’s under Dean’s control, the more he’ll relax, Dean knows.
Sure enough, but the time Cas is down to his (ugly, plain) underwear, his face is blank and the shaking has stopped. Dean, on the other hand, gets more and more excited. If he still had the ability to give a crap, he might have been worried about that. As it is, he simply grins.
Once Cas is finally naked, he stares. Damn, under the nerdy clothes, Cas sure has a seriously hot body. His face doesn’t hurt either, but this Dean already knew.
Wordlessly, Cas complies. His back is really fucking nice too, but holy crap, his ass is just perfect. Dean finally stands up, blade still in hand, and slots himself right behind Cas, feeling the perfect curve of his ass through his jeans pressed against his groin.
Cas doesn’t answer. It’s a little unnerving but Dean is having too much fun to let it get to him. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against Cas’ ear, all the while running the tip of the blade against the soft skin of Cas’ inner thigh.
"Now, kneel. Facing me."
Cas slowly kneels and smoothly turns around to face Dean, looking up at him through his blank, obedient eyes. Dean finds it surprisingly easy to control Cas. Is Cas even fighting him?
"Tell me what’s on your mind right now."
Cas doesn’t answer right away, and Dean relents his control a little. Cas frowns.
"You’re a dick, Dean."
Dean smirks. The insult sounds strange in Cas’ mouth. Another thing he obviously picked from him. His eyes turn black, just a reminder, and he reaches for his zipper with his free hand. He takes out his dick and traces Cas’ lips with it, shivering a little by how good that simple contact feels.
"Talking about dicks, suck mine."
He feels Cas struggle against the hold in his mind and tightens his grip on it. Cas loses quickly and opens his mouth, taking the entire length of Dean’s cock inside of it.
"Fuck, you’ve got a nice mouth. Made to suck cock. I think I’m gonna keep you. I think you’re gonna be my slave from now on. The great Castiel as my own demon self’s good little cockslut. What do you think?"
Castiel lets Dean’s cock fall from his now glistering lips just long enough to answer.
Fuck, I’ve been drawing all day, sitting in the same position for fucking 5 hours, and now everything hurts and I’m hungry as fuck, but there’s nothing in the fridge so I have to go out, FUUUUUUUUUUCK.
Demon dean just fucking different people all day, wakes up in the afternoon, orders pizza? fucks the dark haired blue eyed twink delivery boy against a wall, goes to the store for beer? Ends up having a quickly with the stock girl on some boxes with one of her legs on his shoulder. Heads to a bar? Picks up a bear and his bf to eat him out then pound him while he fucks the other snarling and biting the back of the guys neck.
oh man let me stop you right at the stock girl and say how intense and ravenous demon!dean would be when he ate someone out
he would probably fucking growl against them and hold onto her hips so tight until she was gasping, just pressing his tongue inside and going at it like he was so hungry and making her come harder than she ever has im just im so ups e t???
He can taste the liquor on Dean’s tongue. Expensive cognac worth more than their hotel room. Cas had stolen it, flown in with it in his hand. He smiled as he gave it to Dean. The praise still rings in his grace.
Damn, Cas, got some good taste.
Dean grabs at him, both of them hard as they rut into each other’s skin like animals. This is a dangerous man pinning him against the wall, intoxicated and out of his mind with lust and need.
Castiel’s voice trembles as he moans, his legs shaking where they’re spread so filthy wide. All he can do is yank at Dean’s head and grind himself desperately against the tongue being shoved into his used hole.
Dean chuckles against his skin, looking up at him lovingly from between his spread thighs. He can almost hear the praise. Such a good angel, Cas.