blue

there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin (he/him)

[rebelsforangels]

The idea of angels not feeling anything throughout their existence is a blessing.

A being above what we can understand is also a victim of existence like us. The first angels were crushed under the heavy burden of existing longer than they could understand, that's why they went mad.

So, God, cast them away from heaven to protect the other angels from descending into madness.

That's what was said to Castiel, over and over like it was written for other angels as a warning about feeling. They are angels of the lord, they don't need anything other than the guidance of the lord.

He believed it.

After all, why would god–his father–lie to him? To his brothers and sisters? Fathers are meant to protect their children from whatever might endanger them, whether the way the world works or imaginary monsters under the bed.

God however protected its angels by warning them about feeling, not letting them feel, which means protecting them from what it actually means to exist.

Just like everything else was created, angels are part of the cycle we call life. If angels go mad who would look over the babies with bright futures? Who would guide those during their darkest times?

Angels can't feel the sadness, because if they did, the sky would fall apart, the ocean would overflow the lands like the tears they couldn't shed for god knows how long.

Castiel followed what was said to him, he followed his father's words with nothing but obedience. He followed orders because he's a son, a soldier, and sometimes he can't tell the difference between the two.

Is there any difference between a son and a soldier?

One carries the orders to keep the lives of those who depend on him.

Other carries the legacy of the life he was given as a gift from those before him.

But both follow the orders from hands that cradled them once, with pride, in those moments a soldier and a son become one.

From the very first moment Castiel came down to earth, he was nothing but a soldier. He had orders to follow, and of course, he followed those orders because he's an angel. Angels are soldiers, soldiers are angels, bound to orders that were given to them with a promise of protection wrapped around.

He thought the orders were clear and simple. No regard for rest to save one. He saw it as a holy act to be sacrificed in the name of the lord's work.

All for the greater good.

[rebelsforangels]

"You were made for this weren't you?" Dean muttered to his brother's ear, each word punctured with a thrust that rattled the bed frame. Of course, he knew the answer of the question, his sweet boy was made for him.

Just for Dean.

The answer he got was a muffled sob, poor Sammy boy was on edge for god knows how long. Dean is not someone who believes in gods and shits but he knows no heaven would match how Sammy's warm walls feel around his cock.

Speaking of.. Dean's hand slid down to wrap around Sam's cock, leaking so much precum. He pressed his thumb to slit, collecting the precum, his other hand was already buried in Sam's sweaty locks.

He pulled Sam's hair to lift his head up from the pillow and oh.. how good his sweet brother looks right now. Cheeks flushed, damp with tears and some of his shorter hair locks sticked to his sweaty forehead. A sight for sure.

Dean didn't need to say anything as Sam already parted his swollen lips to take Dean's thumb.

And the way he moaned around Dean's thumb when he takes it? Tasting his own precum. Nodding mindlessly to Dean's rough whispers, if he wasn't edged with every inch of his life, he would've said something back to those words.

If only Dean knew how much Sam wanted to be filled over and over till it was spilling out, how much he would've liked to carry a piece of Dean with him. As twisted as it sounded, nothing got him off more than the thought of being bred by his older brother.

[rebelsforangels]

It feels weird to grieve someone that you don't know, you've never seen them with your own eyes. You don't know the sound of their voice, or their wild laugh that feels like it comes straight from their heart. Sam doesn't know Mary yet he grieves her.

Sometimes he stares at his own reflection on the bathroom mirror, the light flickers as it casts shadows under his eyes. He wondered which part of his face belonged to his mom.

She died before Sam could remember her, he wondered if his mom was afraid. Was she in pain during her final moments? Or was it painless?

He knows he can't bring the dead back to life with sheer grief alone but what is he gonna do with this vast pain? Somewhere under his ribcages, deep in his heart, it's consuming him.

He can't bury it.

Can't burn it.

He can only live with it until the day he dies for good. No hell, no deals.

[rebelsforangels]

The sound of skin slapping filled the dingy motel room they were staying for the night.

"Fuck," Sam hissed under his breathe as he lowered himself on Dean's cock again, slow enough to feel every inch of it filling him, streching him open. Sam threw his head back when he finally bottomed, fully settled on Dean's lap.

He heard Dean's grunt when he squeezed around his cock, he wanted Dean's cock inside him forever so they would never be seperated, they could become one in Sam's body. He would gladly carry a piece of Dean inside him.

A child maybe, sure biologically men can't get pregnant by a simple sex but that doesn't mean they would stop trying.

With these thoughts swirling around in his mind, Sam put his big hands on Dean's chest; pads of his thumbs playing with his nipples as he lifted himself up and then down. Slowly building a rhythm, his aching cock was leaking precum and with each move it hit his stomach.

"Fuck, Sammy, just like that," Dean moaned and gripped Sam's waist tighter, he watched Sam's brows furrowed in concentration and pleasure. Beads of sweat were sliding down from his neck to his chest and Dean wanted to lick it. He was shameless when it came to Sam.

Sam saved his ass today, so of course Dean will reward his baby brother. He's not a heartless bastard.

Dean's eyes were on Sam the entire time, drinking the sight of his baby brother riding him like a good fucking boy. What started as grunts morphed into moans, both men didn't care about the thin walls or the fact that someone might hear them.

The thought of someone hearing Sam's moans made a new wave of warmth flush down to his cock, as much as Dean wanted to let Sam decide the pace he couldn't handle it, after all he was just a man.

Sam knew for sure Dean's grip was borderline bruising, and he hoped his handprints would be there tomorrow. The sound of Dean's balls slapping his ass was getting louder with the fastened pace, it's like Dean was impaling his cock into Sam, his moans were louder.

The stupid cowboy hat he wore for Dean slid down, covering Sam's eyes and making his hair stick to his forehead. Sam lifted his hand up to push the hat back to it's place and that made Dean whistle. If Sam's brain wasn't a mush right now he would've smacked Dean for that whistle but right now all he could think was Dean's cock.

His thighs tensed around Dean's waist, pining him down harder on the bed. He watched Dean arch his back further, tilting his head back to show that perfect throat Sam wanted to bite and suck on, with half-lidded eyes. His older brother was really close, he wanted to see Dean lose himself so Sam did what he did best, leaned his face down and bit Dean's Adam's apple. Hard enough to leave teeth mark.

Dean's hiss of pain turned into a moan as his balls tightened and next, he was spilling his seed deep into Sam. Did that stop Sam? No, in fact, he contiuned to ride Dean's cock. He was addicted to the feeling of it, deep inside him to cleanse his sins.

Sam was getting close, oh so close, babbling about wanting to be filled by him until his seed is flowing out from his hole. His hand gripped his useless flushed cock, moving his thumb over its tip to smear the precum. If he wasn't riding Dean like a horse he would've been one to do it.

Finally the waves of pleasure crashed Sam full force, "Dean!" He moaned loudly, his cock shooting white strings of cum all over his chest. When Dean cupped his cheek, his thumb slowly moving over his bottom lip, Sam leaned to his touch. Corners of his lips curled upwards.

A tired small smile formed on Dean's face, taking the sight of Sam basking in the afterglow. His voice was rough from all the moaning when he whispered "Atta boy."

[rebelsforangels]

He should've known by now that luck was never on his side. After everything they went through, a peaceful life sounded like a joke Dean would make if he was drunk enough in his misery.

Sam would take the bottle away from his brother's calloused hand and try not to think about how warm his skin was. That one second touch would be enough for Sam, he knew better than to hope for something he couldn't have.

Maybe he should've hoped for it before death inevitably took Dean from him, and the possibility of what they could've become.

Now what's left of it is the "what-ifs" he won't be able to act on. At least Dean was merciful enough to visit Sam in his dreams, happy and alive until Sam wakes up.

Until the day Sam dies, Dean will remain as the love and loss of Sam's life.

[rebelsforangels]

The idea of angels not feeling anything throughout their existence is a blessing.

A being above what we can understand is also a victim of existence like us. The first angels were crushed under the heavy burden of existing longer than they could understand, that's why they went mad.

So, God, cast them away from heaven to protect the other angels from descending into madness.

That's what was said to Castiel, over and over like it was written for other angels as a warning about feeling. They are angels of the lord, they don't need anything other than the guidance of the lord.

He believed it.

After all, why would god–his father–lie to him? To his brothers and sisters? Fathers are meant to protect their children from whatever might endanger them, whether the way the world works or imaginary monsters under the bed.

God however protected its angels by warning them about feeling, not letting them feel, which means protecting them from what it actually means to exist.

Just like everything else was created, angels are part of the cycle we call life. If angels go mad who would look over the babies with bright futures? Who would guide those during their darkest times?

Angels can't feel the sadness, because if they did, the sky would fall apart, the ocean would overflow the lands like the tears they couldn't shed for god knows how long.

Castiel followed what was said to him, he followed his father's words with nothing but obedience. He followed orders because he's a son, a soldier, and sometimes he can't tell the difference between the two.

Is there any difference between a son and a soldier?

One carries the orders to keep the lives of those who depend on him.

Other carries the legacy of the life he was given as a gift from those before him.

But both follow the orders from hands that cradled them once, with pride, in those moments a soldier and a son become one.

From the very first moment Castiel came down to earth, he was nothing but a soldier. He had orders to follow, and of course, he followed those orders because he's an angel. Angels are soldiers, soldiers are angels, bound to orders that were given to them with a promise of protection wrapped around.

He thought the orders were clear and simple. No regard for rest to save one. He saw it as a holy act to be sacrificed in the name of the lord's work.

All for the greater good.

[rebelsforangels]

Castiel's love for humanity and the world brought his demise but he loved, he loved with all he had and it wasn't enough to save him but it was there. He loved so much that it changed his fate, he took his own fate into his own hands and, even when that string of fate tied his own hands, he still clung into it.

Humans won't know him, the world won't become a second heaven but the love he poured will flourish and become trees that will house bees, flowers that will make children gasp in excitement.

Every sunrise will have the warmth he brought to people around him. Every time the moon rises its light will guide people through darkness just like Castiel once did.

The breeze carries his words like whispers, and the stars shine like his grace. The rivers are his tears that he never shed.

The world is now a part of Castiel and that is something the empty won't be able to take.

[rebelsforangels]

Sam cursed under his breath before jumping down to the dug grave, his boots crushing down the dirt.

He doesn't give a moment for Dean to open that damn mouth of his. His lips met with Dean's chapped ones, Dean didn't answer the invitation for intimacy at first. Sam guesses the action was too sudden for his older brother.

Dean dropped the shovel, and his hands flew to Sam's shoulders so that he could pull him closer. Chest to chest. His lips pushed against Sam's soft lips as if accepting the intimacy his precious brother invited him to.

The first kiss was sudden, an act to prove annoyance. They pulled back a little to take a breath, the line they danced around was erased with the second kiss. A deeper one, where they are pouring down their desires to each other's throat.

Dean's warm tongue peeked through, touching Sam's bottom lip. Asking for permission, ever the gentleman that he is. Who is Sam to deny his older brother's tongue? He accepts it.

This is better than the dirty dreams he had about Dean.

Dean's tongue slid through, and his hands moved forward to cup Sam's face so he could angle his face, a little tilt to the right. His precious baby brother deserves the best after all, and Dean is always happy to give the best.

Sam moans to the kiss, the leftover taste of beer Dean drank earlier is attacking his taste buds, as if the beer is pouring down to his mouth as well. It tastes better when it's Dean. It's sweeter and addictive.

Sam's hands move back from Dean's face to the nape of his neck, his dominant hand gripping the short dirty blonde strands. He needs Dean like oxygen, he needs the taste of beer like it's the only thing that can save Sam's damned soul.

Dean swallowed Sam's moan, further down to the already pooling heat in his stomach. On God, he swore, Dean didn't know Sammy could make such beautiful noises. He wondered what other noises Sam could make.

The urge to breathe broke the kiss. Their foreheads touching as brown met green, Sam could see Dean's dilated pupils. His eyes are shining like there are stars in them as if angels put stars in his green eyes to prove to Sam how special his big brother is.

The thin line of saliva was a bridge between their lips, and Dean's chapped lips were swelling. He knows they should stop, this is wrong but when did they ever listen to other people anyway?

They are panting, breathing the same air. Sam could smell the cheap store-bought deodorant Dean used, alongside sweat. It's filling his lungs, making him dizzy.

He leans forward and tilts his head down to nuzzle his face against Dean's neck. His lips touch the soft skin, it's tender at first. Each one is like a thank you Sam didn't voice before. Thank you for saving me back there, a kiss, thank you for choosing me, another kiss.

Sam's right hand moved down from Dean's hair to hold his neck, not to squeeze but to rest it there. His thumb caressing the little scar that Dean got a few weeks ago, during a fight.

His lips parted enough to suck on the skin, wet with saliva. He could taste the sweat on Dean's skin, salty yet so fucking tasty. He decides this is better than the taste of beer on Dean's tongue.

Dean tilted his head back to give Sammy more room, his hand cupped the back of Sam's head. Brown locks tangled with his calloused hand, "Sammy." he mutters, his voice is low. As if to not wake up the dead.

Sam hummed and continued his ministrations. "Yes, Dean?" he asked. He didn't pull back though, he was already addicted, and let's be honest. When did Sam Winchester ever listen to someone?

"Sammy," Dean mutters again, his voice still low yet more serious. He should've known Sammy wouldn't listen to him, after all despite their circumstances Dean spoiled Sam too rotten.

As much as Dean would let Sam have his way, he's already hard and unpatient. They don't have all the time in the world after all. They are in the middle of a cemetery, more specifically in a damn grave for fucks sake.

Dean tugged Sam's hair to pull his hair back and his precious Sam let out the most beautiful moan he ever heard in his damn life. Well, that was a pleasant surprise.

"We don't have much time," Dean said with a serious tone, it's deeper. Darker. It makes a shiver run down Sam's spine, he feels small even though he's taller than Dean. So he does what he always does best, he defies.

Sam's grip tightened on Dean's neck, not cutting his older brother's airway, but to show. "Stop fucking up the mood," he grumbled. Dean needs to learn how to shut up.

Dean scoffed, "I'm reminding you to stop wasting time." he shot back, he sometimes forgets how much of a brat Sam can be when he wants to. Taking his sweet fucking time to work up Dean more as if he's not already hard enough.

His sweet Sammy, the ever brat, responds with another grumble but Dean isn't having it, and to be honest, he isn't listening anymore. So Dean's hands slid to Sam's shoulders and push him down, made Sam kneel on the ground.

The dirt crunches under his knees as Sam looks up at Dean. His brows furrowed, soft brown eyes filled with annoyance, he opened his mouth to talk back again but Dean pushed his thumb inside.

Sam's tongue rolled around Dean's thumb. "I told you, didn't I?" Dean said with pissed off tone, Sam thought it was the hottest thing ever. The dark tone, the anger in his voice that makes Sam want to push more. Sam Winchester learned how to play with danger after all, it's a dance that he knows the moves like back of his hand.

"That we don't have much time, that you should stop fucking playing around." Dean continued on. His grip is back on Sam's hair, tight enough to show how serious he is. With each word Sam's cock was twitching under his boxers.

He moaned around Dean's thumb, shameless about the fact that he gets off with his brother's control. His hips jerked involuntarily when Dean pressed his foot down to Sam's crotch.

"Is this what you want to be? A fucking brat?" he applied more pressure, not to hurt but to remind Sam who is in charge. Sure, Sammy can play with his buttons, all he wants but in the end of the day, Dean is in control.

Sam moaned louder, despite the thumb in his mouth. His eyes glazed over with desire. Dean pulled his thumb out from Sam's warm mouth, instead gripped Sam's chin to tilt his head back. Dean leaned down, "C'mon Sammy, open that mouth."

When Sam opened his mouth, as if it's an offering, Dean didn't lose a second and spit to his mouth. Letting the saliva land on Sam's tongue, he kept his grip on Sam's chin. Dean pulled his hand back from those brown locks to unbuckle his belt.

"Do I have to remind you who's in charge Sammy?" he taunted, before Sam could say anything, Dean shoved his tongue in his mouth again, claiming it, swirling around with his own. Sam parted the kiss, gasping for air. There's nothing more holy and sinful than this, a beautiful contradiction.

Dean pulled unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper as the sounds of their gasps were drowning everything else. Sam moved forward like it's an instinct, his lips met with Dean's hard cock hiding behind his boxers.

He heard Dean's hiss, and then his hand moved to grasp his hair in a tight grip. Not pulling or pushing, just keeping it there. Sam licked the wet spot on Dean's boxers, he would do anything for Dean. That was for sure. "Already eager for my cock sweetheart?" there was a hint of amusement in his voice now, he was enjoying it. Oh he was so enjoying it.

Sam was far too addicted of the taste to even snap back at Dean but he managed to glare at him, which earned an amused chuckle from Dean.

The fabric was pulled down to his thighs and finally, Dean's gorgeously hard cock was free. His tip was oozing precum, sliding down, so red like it's on the verge of combusting. Maybe it is, considering Dean was already hard before they started making out in a cemetery.

And the thrill of it was really intimate. Being the only living thing amongst the dead, moans full of love and desire pouring down from lips, echoing in the night.

Sam was impatient, and so he started with a kiss on his base. His mouth climbing up on Dean's cock with each kiss, those low moans were like a choir of angels to Sam. He could feel Dean's grip on his hair tighten, nearly giving him a headache but he didn't give two fucks about it. Not when the masterpiece is right there. Sam left a soft kiss on Dean's tip before running his tongue through to collect the precum, he watched Dean's head thrown back.

Moans are pouring down. Sam didn't want to stop, relishing the power he had over his older brother, he wrapped his lips around Dean's tip. He pushed his head down, taking it inch by inch. Breathing through his nose to not gag around it, he stopped when the tip hit the back of his throat.

"Fuck," Dean cursed out loud, "Fuck Sammy you're so good." he looked back down at the scene, Sam on his knees. Looking like a damn Renaissance painting, hell even better than that. Only Dean can see and witness, he ran his hand over Sam's hair to push back the brown strands that were sticking to his sweaty forehead, "So damn good for me." he can't help it, he needs to praise his precious Sammy for being so good for him.

Sam took the rest of it down to his throat. His face pressed to Dean's crotch, nose buried deep in Dean's bush. He could smell Dean's musk, it's dizzying. This must be the gates of heaven, and Dean must be his god. Letting Sam enter his personal heaven.

Dean started to guide Sam's head by tugging his hair. That beautiful, warm mouth was open for him. Gagging around it like he was made for it, "Bet this is what you wanted from start, yeah?" Dean was sure this is why Sam was being all bratty about. "You just needed your brother's cock in your pretty mouth."

Sam's hands were on Dean's legs, holding it tightly and letting Dean use his mouth. The gagging sounds mixed with Dean's words were making his brain feel fuzzy, pliant and just want to be used.

Dean was fastening his moves, his hips rolling forward to meet halfway through. He didn't forget to press his boot on Sam's crotch, he wants to give attention to the neglected cock too, poor Sammy couldn't touch it after all. Too busy sucking his brother's cock.

He was getting close, it was hard to hold himself back from not cumming to Sam's throat. That little piece of heaven. Tucked away from everyone and only served to Dean.

"M'getting close Sammy." Dean said between his moans, he knows Sam would swallow every drop. He's good like that, he never waste anything. "Gonna let me cum in your mouth?" he rolled his hips again as if to prove his point.

Sam nodded a little, still busy with gagging around Dean's cock. Sucking it like his life depends on it, tears started to roll down from his pretty brown eyes. Sliding on his flushed cheeks.

Dean pressed Sam's head to the base of his cock, his left hand held Sam's jaw. Kept him there as he came with a broken moan. His cum spilling down to Sam's throat, Dean really thought he saw the stars in the damn night sky shine brighter when he came.

Sam spluttered around Dean's cock, the salty taste was making his eyes roll back to his skull. He came right after Dean did, messing his boxers and pants with a muffled moan that he swallowed alongside Dean's cum.

When Dean felt his cock soften in Sam's mouth, his grip loosened and then he pulled back. His hand combing through the tousled brown locks, left thumb caressing his jaw to soothe it. "So good.. always good for me Sammy." he murmured before leaned down to leave a kiss on Sam's sweaty forehead.

Satisfied and spent, Sam rested his forehead on Dean's thigh. His chest heaving with harsh breaths like he just ran a marathon.

A few droplets of cum fell into the dug grave. That can be a gift to dead from the living, to give them what they are missing or perhaps a 'thank you' for not disturbing them. Who knows what the dead could do?

His lips curled upwards with the kiss, it felt good to be praised after giving his damn best. Dean kept combing through his hair, letting Sam collect himself. He can carve the damn universe to give Sam everything he ever wants, that's his darling.

With soft reminders to breath, Sam collected himself. Sam nuzzled his face before bit down Dean's inner thigh with a little smirk. Leaving a souvenir or rather a 'claim' on Dean, drawing blood and then licking the bite mark.

He earned a tug on his hair for that but people needs to know who Dean belongs to after all, even though Sam won't let people throw Dean to their bed. "What? Can't handle a little bite?" Sam said with a rough voice as he gets back up on his feet with the help from Dean.

"Man you bite really hard." Dean grumbled, rubbing his hand to the bite mark before pulled his boxers then his pants up. Zipping it back, he buckled his belt with trembling hands leftover from the life-changing blowjob Sammy just gave him.

They climbed up from the grave, well it was the wrong one but it's okay. They can find the right one tomorrow night. Right now Dean's plan is to show Sammy how much he appreciates him, it's only fair if he gets the same amount of love as well.

Both men start to walk back to the baby, following the rocky path of the cemetery. His hand found Sam's hand, intertwined their fingers. Three squeezes for an I love you, and then a soft peck on Sam's cheek that makes his little brother smile softly.

[rebelsforangels]

"Destiel is canon [random spn ship] is not," is stupid, and here is why.

This whole argument and the superiority complex some of you have are bizarre, seriously. Destiel is as much canon as any other spn ship is and two things can coexist. Wincest can be canon, Sastiel can be canon, Destiel can be canon and the list goes on.

People can interpret the relationships between the characters however they want. It's up to one's taste and choice. Using the "I love you" scene to prove Destiel being canon is not even a good move when you think about how that scene can be interpreted as platonic, brotherly, or even friendly.

Castiel is not the first person in the show to say "I love you" to Dean, what makes Castiel's "I love you" different from others? And no, I don't want you to prove to me that Destiel is canon.

Everyone can express their thoughts and opinions. Constantly putting others down for their ship is not acceptable in fandoms, again, if you don't want to interact with certain ships you can block the accounts, censor the ship name, and don't fucking interact.

[rebelsforangels]

"That's not how siblings work," is the dumbest shit you can say against wincest when you realize they are not just brothers.

Dean and Sam's relationship has always been more than brotherhood. The environment they grew up in, the lack of healthy parental care and support, and the abuse prevent them from forming a healthy sibling relationship and it's not their fault to begin with. Obviously, it would become borderline incestuous.

Their codependency is one of the fundamental things about Supernatural and the series of events that happened. You can't take Wincest out of the show and expect it to work. The show itself evolves around Dean and Sam, one way or another it connects to them, and taking it out means taking the core of the show out.

Wincest is not everyone's thing and no one is mad at you, trust me, no one is giving a zero fuck about whether you ship it or not. Some of you act like Wincesties are incestuous pedophiles, and when they are mad (rightfully so) at you for assuming/accusing, suddenly they are ruining everything.

If you don't want a wincest account to interact with your post simply block them. No one is on their knees begging you to like them, who do you think you are lol.