#just gained awareness but is already acting on cain instinct. this is what happens when you build your own sibling

[ghostypetrainer]

Btw I’m PvPing you about Construct AU. Here goes:

Ingo was  on the singles line train.

Ingo was…on the singles line train.

Ingo was on the singles line train. The singles line train was in between stations and no challengers had reached the boss's car yet. Ingo held the metal pole for balance because safety was important, and one of the windows rattled a little bit around the turns, and Chandelure was floating up near the ceiling. Ingo was doing exactly what Emmet had instructed him to. He was on the singles line train.

Ingo was on the singles line train like he was every morning, acting as the line's Subway Boss. If any challenger appeared, he would say a speech Emmet had written and he would point dramatically, and he would conduct a difficult pokemon battle against them. Then, in the afternoon, Ingo would do paperwork to Emmet's specifications while Emmet handled the administration of Gear Station in person. That was his job, and he did it every day. It was more than his job--it was his entire purpose. It was why Ingo had been made.

But something was different. Something had changed about the singles line train since yesterday, and Ingo couldn't figure out what it was. There was no sound in the car that had not been there before. Nor any strange smells. The train was just as fast as it was yesterday, running down the track at exactly the same tempo. The lights? No, they were the same. The only difference that was readily apparent was that Ingo felt just a little bit warmer than usual.

Ingo was warm, but he wasn't uncomfortable. And he couldn't just take his coat off; then he would be out of uniform! Ingo looked up. Chandelure was still hanging there, close by.

Chandelure rocked back and forth with the motion of the train. When they went around a turn, it swayed like a real light fixture. When Chandelure realized that Ingo was looking up, it turned to look back down at him.

Chandelure looked at Ingo's chest with its big glowing eyes. The black line of glass that was its mouth was flat. Then it glanced up at Ingo's face, and looked right back at Ingo's chest. It had been doing that a lot, lately. Just staring at Ingo's chest, where the weird warm feeling was centered.

Ingo's face wasn't very expressive. Emmet hadn't made him that way. But he furrowed his brows a bit anyway. "Is something wrong, Chandelure? I feel…"

He felt…strange. Something to do with the warmth that was concentrated under his skin. Wait. Under his skin. The warm feeling wasn't coming from outside, it was coming from inside of Ingo. Had some mechanism of his changed? His workings were supposed to be a mixture of metaphysical and inorganic. That shouldn't make him warm. Ingo reached up and rested his free hand flat over the spot where his heart would be if he really was a human being.

It didn't really feel that different. The texture was the same. The motion that he made to simulate breathing was the same. The vibration from the train car that traveled up his legs and into his body was the same. But something else, some other feeling, was new.

Ingo tried to puzzle it out. He tried to think it through. Nothing about the train had changed, but maybe, something about Ingo had? His eyes found Chandelure again. Chandelure had big eyes, and it looked encouragingly down at him.

Chandelure was Emmet's pokemon, one of his oldest partners. Chandelure cared a lot about Emmet, and he loved it in return. They had a high friendship level. Chandelure had been put off by Ingo at first, but it had warmed up to him eventually. Did Ingo and Chandelure also have a high friendship level? Did Chandelure care about him, too?

That idea made the warm feeling glow brighter in Ingo's chest. Chandelure's eyes followed the feeling like a magnet.

"Do you like me?" Ingo asked. "That's okay. I like you, too." The warm feeling was overflowing, a tiny sun in Ingo's chest.

Chandelure cooed. An affirmative? It made Ingo happy to hear.

Wait. Ingo felt happy? He really did, he found. Some inexorable force was dragging the corners of his mouth up in an stiff approximation of a smile. Ingo was happy, and he liked Chandelure. Loved it, even. It was the same kind of love that he felt for the train running under his feet, and also for Emmet, who was, even then, riding miles away on the doubles line train.

Ingo was happy. He felt love. The heat like a candle flame in his chest wasn’t a mechanical failure, it must have been a soul! He smiled up at Chandelure earnestly. Chandelure fixed its own face into a little smile and it beamed back at him. They were friends!

"Don't tell Emmet, okay? If he doesn't know about my new soul, I can play so many pranks on him."

Chandelure nodded and returned to its spot by the ceiling with a self-satisfied look on its face.

YO THIS WAS SO GOOD!!!!

ahhhhh, the soul realization of what the change in himself is... capped off by the ending where Ingo asks if he and Chandelure are friends basically... and then of course. Chandelure agreeing not to tell Emmet because she also wants to play pranks on her beloved trainer. It's good. It's soooo good.

[icecream-and-gadreel]

Contagious (NSFW)

Summary: In the first step to take down Abaddon, Dean needs to get the Mark of Cain. This proves to be a longer process than anticipated.

Pairing: DeanxCain

Other characters: Crowley, Abaddon(Mentioned), Castiel(Mentioned)

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, mentions of violence

Word count: 2400+

A/N: This is based on Season 9 episode 11, and is also a part of my 21 songs challenge! Enjoy! Tagging @sheinthatfandom​​ because I love you

You’re contagious, touch me baby, give me what you got.

"Come on, I don't got all day," Dean snaps, his chest heaving. "If you haven't noticed, we're up shits creek without a god damn paddle!" He snaps. Still, all Cain does is stare, pondering Dean's words. Crowley watches them both intently, trying to keep the fear from showing on his face. That mark. Given by Lucifer to the most infamous demon to roam the earth. And here Dean is, acting like it's a sticker that can just be slapped on. "I'm done with the games," Dean grunts. Crowley nudges Dean, gesturing to Cain with a clenched jaw.

"There's a process to these things. Strenuous rituals," Crowley whispers, never taking his eyes off of the other demon.

"What kinda ritual?"

“Bonding ritual,” Cain says, ending his silence. “The mark only chooses those it deems worthy,” he adds, crossing his arms over. Crowley shifts his weight from leg to leg, whipping around at the sound of banging. Demons are climbing around the house from all angles, trying to gain purchase into the home.

“So what we uh – we share our feelings? Go on a fishing trip? The hell kinda bonding we talkin' here?” Dean asks, gaining a shrug from Cain.

“The strongest kind –”

“Boys,” Crowley says, his voice hushed as he watches more and more treacherous demons pile up.

“What we gonna be blood brothers?”

“Again, stronger than that –”

“Boys,” Crowley repeats.

“The hell is stronger than that?!”

“Dean! Cain!” Crowley snaps, flinching when Cain's eyes land on him. “Cain, sir,” he says, clasping his hands together. “I'm not one to complain but under the circumstances, I figure we should speed this up a bit,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as Cain makes his way to the kitchen. Dean follows after, muttering under his breath as he does. The door slams hard, leaving Crowley to his own devices as he waits for whatever the hell is supposed to happen, to happen.

–

Dean tosses his knife on the counter, throwing his hands up. “Alright, let's get it over with,” Dean says, eyeing the window. Yeah, demons are swarming and he's not seeing an easy way out.

“Since this is the last thing I'll be enjoying for a long time –” Cain looks Dean up and down, rolling his sleeves up. “I'm in no rush.”

Instinctively, Dean gets into a fighting stance, grunting as he's pulled into the other man's embrace. “Woah uh...” His voice trails off, all previous thoughts being wiped away. His body is pulsing. Something inside of him is frighteningly aware of how good this is, how powerful he will be once he takes on the mark. His mind races to thoughts of future fights, beyond Abaddon, beyond anything he's already gone against. He could kill them all, easily. The thought should scare him, but as Cain nuzzles his head in the crook of Dean's neck, all the fills his mind is 'I need this'.

"You're worthy of the mark, it's calling to you," Cain says, finally pulling Dean back to earth. They never break eye contact. Something is pulling them both in, begging for the connection to be complete.

"The hell is this?" Dean asks, his shaking hands ghosting along Cain's arms.

"'It's power, Dean, pure ecstasy for men like us." His beard scratches against Dean's neck, sending a shot of electricity up the hunter's spine. "Doesn't it feel good?"

Does it? All he can see is conquest. Destroying his enemy and taking sick pleasure in the experience. "Yeah," he grunts, his chest heaving. Cains's fingers grip into his hips rougher, making the already intense connection even more so. "I want...I want it --"

"And I'll give it to you," Cain whispers, his lips tracing along Dean's neck. "Just lie down, and we can begin," he says, pulling away and gesturing to the table. Just like that, the euphoric feeling leaves Dean. His mind clears, and he can finally see just how...wrong that feeling was. But like it or not, if he's gonna cut Abaddon down, he needs this.

Still, this wasn't what Dean had in mind.

He was gonna grab the damn blade, take Abaddon out, and put a rest to all of this. Instead, he's sprawled out on the kitchen table with the father of murder standing before him. His face sinks, the realization of what 'strenuous rituals' means setting in. Cain slides a hand down Dean's neck, a blank look on his face. He can't explain it. The way Cain touches him feels primal, calculated, and pure instinct; more dutiful than anything. Yet he's never craved someone's touch more than he does now. Dean flinches as Cain grips his neck, his breaths shaking.

“Now where did that bravery go, Dean?” he asks, unbuttoning the hunter's collar.

“I don't need the foreplay sweetheart, let's get this over with,” Dean chuckles, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Where the hell is Crowley? He'd be eating all of this up. Cain gives a cold, stale smile, ripping Dean's shirt open and sending buttons flying into the air.

“Mmm, you want me to speed through this rare opportunity?” he cooes, pulling Dean's pants down his hips. “Rush past having the infamous Dean Winchester twisted around my finger? Absolutely not.”

“Whatever floats your...” he lets his voice drift away, squeezing his eyes shut tight as Cain grips his length over his boxers. “Can uh – can Crowley see us?”

“I'm a fan of privacy,” he retorts, eyes locked on the hunter's twitching cock. “So that feels good, now we're getting somewhere.” Dean swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath as his length is freed from his boxers, being stroked roughly by the other man. Once more, Dean's body springs to life, eager to taste the unimaginable amounts of power being offered to him. He fights the urge to cry out, slamming his fist down against the table. “I'd love a little more enthusiasm.” Dean rocks his hips up, thrusting into Cain's hand while trying to imagine he's here under better circumstances. “I apologize for not being your usual demographic,” he adds, chuckling breathlessly. Pausing, Dean opens his eyes, chest heaving and face flushed red.

“Look, you're not bad lookin', I'm just painfully aware that neither of us should enjoy this,” he says, leaning up on his elbows. “I gotta take that bitch out, you gotta tend to your bees. Strictly business.”

“Hm. Business.” Cain presses his lips over the head of Dean's cock, slowly swirling his tongue. Though he tries to hold it in, Dean lets out a stifled moan, damn near whining as Cain takes him deeper into his mouth.

It feels far too good. Hot and wet, his tongue swiping along every inch slowly. The pulsing pleasure returns, forcing moans out of the hunter. How the hell can this feel so good?

“W-wait –” Dean cries out, his hips snapping into the air as his orgasm pulses through him. His cock is buried in Cain's throat, but the demon barely reacts, gently caressing Dean's balls as he rides his release. “Was that it?” he breathes. Cain releases the hunter's cock with a smack of his lips, shaking his head. The connection begins to dull yet again, but before it's completely gone, Dean is pulling him into a gentle kiss. He can't keep riding this high and having it taken away from him. Soon, the air between them changes, and what was once an uncomfortable exchange turns into the two of them crashing into each other. Cain moans into his mouth, his free hand wrapping around the Winchester's neck and pulling him impossibly close. Dean fumbles to undress the demon, his cock twitching as pleasure tingles at his every nerve. Breaking from the kiss, Dean stares at Cain's length, words lost to him. It wasn't supposed to be that...big. Before he can speak, Cain is shoving his fingers into the other man's mouth, settling between his thighs.

“Now now, Dean, my aim isn't to hurt you.” He slowly drags his fingers out of Dean's mouth admiring the stream of saliva before pressing his digits against the hunter's hole. He starts slowly, easing one finger into Dean, humming as he clenches around it. “Doing great,” he whispers, dropping his head to Dean's shoulder as he eases a second finger in. Dean bites back a moan, resisting the urge to rock against the fingers. “Hmm...”

“What?” Dean asks, huffing as the demon begins stroking his prostate in a come hither motion.

“You're good at keeping quiet,” he says, pulling his fingers out and spitting into his palm. After slicking his shaft, he presses the head of his cock against Dean's tight hole. “Never was a fan of that.”

“Yeah well –” Cain abruptly thrusts into Dean, gaining a startled moan in return. Dean arches from the table, hands instinctively gripping at the other man's forearms. “Oh my g-god.” His body clenches around every thick inch, his mouth gaped as Cain sinks deeper into him. More than before, the mark's power pulses through him, his eyes rolling back as Cain lets out a hungered growl.

“So tight, Dean, I was sure the angel I'd heard about had you first,” he breathes, setting a slow, methodical pace.

“Shut the hell up – nngh!” He tries to sound intimidating, but with each hard, slow smack of Cain's hips against his, a moan is forced out of him. Cain lets out a ragged breath, hands gripping the sides of the table as he bottoms out in Dean. He pauses there, enjoying the warmth and tightness squeezing around him, along with Dean's guttural whimpers. The demon lowers his lips to the hunter's, pressing gentle kisses against his lips.

“Cain,” Dean moans, his fingers gripping deeper into Cain's arms. “Fuck that's good,” he breathes, an array of curses falling from him. “H-harder,” Dean whispers.

“Couldn't hear you –” He leaves a sloppy kiss on the hunter's neck – “Speak up.”

“Fuck me harder,” Dean spits, gasping as the other man slams into him balls deep, knocking the wind out of him. Cain fucks him into the table, his gentle pace being replaced with fast, deep strokes. Dean's moans turn into pleasure filled screams, his voice strangled as each thick inch is forced into him. “Don't stop!” he whines, voice fluttering. The only thing he can manage to spit out is Cain's name. The demon leaves rough bites on his neck, licking and sucking his flesh. He flips Dean on top of him, lying flat on the table and resting his hands on the Winchester's hips. Slowly, Dean begins bouncing, his body shuddering with every movement. God, he never thought he'd come like this, but his second edge is quickly approaching. Cain laces his fingers through Dean's hair, yanking his head back and bucking his hips up. He returns to his unrelenting pace, gaining new, choked sounds out of the other man.

“Harder, right?” Cain rasps, his free hand drifting to Dean's length. “You're gonna come again?” he asks, gaining a moan in response. Before he can tease any further, Dean is crying out, hot streaks of come spurting out of him.

“F-fuck – I'm –” He cuts himself off as his orgasm rocks through him a second time, his body going limp. Cain slows his thrusts, tssking Dean. This was going to be more entertaining than he previously thought.

….....

Dean can hardly think at this point. An hour has passed, bringing with it another orgasm for him, and nothing for the demon. Dean lays on his stomach, standing on his tip-toes as Cain fucks into him. Dean's words aren't making sense anymore. Cain kneads the hunter's toned cheeks, his thrusts never wavering.

“You'll excuse me for holding back, this feels too damn good,” Cain says, gaining incoherent words in return. He drags his shaft out slowly, watching each inch until the tip tugs at Dean's rim. In one swift movement, he smacks his hips forward, gaining a garbled moan from Dean. Once more, he pulls his hips back, and Dean tightens up, trying to keep Cain's cock from leaving him. “Your greedy little hole won't let me go,” he teases, giving Dean's ass a playful smack. Cain bites his lip, pumping his hips as finally, his edge approaches. “Our time together is drawing to a close.” He grips his hand in Dean's hair, pulling him flush against him and wrapping an arm around his torso. Cain's hips stutter, his head falling to Dean's shoulder as he comes. He stays buried inside of him for far longer than needed, riding his release and being milked dry by the hunter.

“Nngh,” Dean groans, staring down at his arm as stinging red veins creep up it. The powerful pulsing he's been feeling all night overtakes his whole body, making him feel...awake. Soon, the Mark of Cain is etched into his skin, his arm throbbing. He inadvertently pushes his hips back, a helpless groan forcing out of him as Cain's cock rubs against his spot. Cain keeps his fingers knotted in the other man's hair, still buried inside of his ass.

Somehow, the pleasure Dean was feeling is amplified. He feels like whatever the hell is coursing through his veins is drawn to Cain as it knows of their newly formed 'connection'.

“I'll call on you when I need you,” he says, pulling Dean out of his trance. Cain snaps his fingers, and in an instant their both fully clothed.

–

Crowley checks his watch, grumbling under his breath. Leave it to a Winchester to get him trapped in a house with daddy murder himself. How long could getting that damn mark take?! He checks his watch once more, flopping his head back against the couch. Whatever magic Cain is using made it impossible to hear them, let alone see into the kitchen.

Finally, after what seems like ages, Dean comes limping out, the mark etched into his arm. Crowley stands to his feet, swaggering to Dean with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“A braver man than I, squirrel,” he begins, eyeing the mark, “Whatever happened must have been...grueling.”

Dean twirls his blade in his hand, staring at the crowd of collecting demons. “Yup.”