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hollybell51 · 1 year

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.”

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

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perseephoneee · 3 months

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rest your eyes [castiel x reader]

synopsis: you can't sleep so castiel helps you

a/n: i am sick with covid and have been rewatching supernatural with my boo. castiel was literally my second crush ever, and i missed him so much, so i decided to write something (based on the fact i'm an insomniac who would totally sleep on an angel if offered)

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was supposed to go: hunting a monster in the woods and returning to some dingy motel that Dean found at the end of the day. Instead, the chase led you and the rest of the squad so deep into the woods that it was wiser to set up camp than try and trek back to civilization. The camp included a rock outcropping to protect from the weather, a shitty fire, and a lack of comfortable sleeping arrangements. Sam and Dean were used to sleeping on almost anything so they could pass out immediately. You, on the other hand, had insomnia sleeping in a regular bed and knew you were going to struggle to fall asleep with nothing more than the moss covering the ground.

Castiel didn’t sleep, so he was keeping watch. You had your jacket balled up as a pillow under your head, and instead of closing your eyes and trying to encourage rest in your body, you were staring at Cas through thick lashes. He looked up at the sky, a serene expression on his face like he was thinking about what each star meant. The light from the fire flickered across his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, even his cupid’s bow. Sometimes, you were struck by just how beautiful he was, like some Greek artists, the idea of the perfect man, sculpted to perfection and thrown at your feet for just you to enjoy. You wondered how you ended up so lucky to be blessed with his presence.

“Why do humans enjoy looking at the stars?” Castiel asks you in a soft voice to not rouse Sam and Dean. You should’ve guessed that he would notice that you were awake.

“I think…it’s nice to think about things far away from your own life,” you hum, giving up on your rock bed and sitting up, brushing leaves and other debris out of your hair. Cas looks at you, the blue in his eyes a shifting kaleidoscope from the dancing lights around you. “And the concept of stars is beautiful,” you sighed, curling your legs up and under. Cas tilted his head at that, brows slightly furrowed. It was your favorite expression on him.

“Stars are just clouds of gas and light,” Castiel answers.

“But they’ve traveled thousands of light years to reach us, even if they don’t realize it,” you smile, your eyes tracing the path of various constellations. You can feel Cas’ gaze, but don’t dare look over. Looking into Cas’ eyes is falling headfirst into an abyss you didn’t prepare for.

“I like that,” Castiel exclaims, a hint of a smile on his lips. “That’s a…human way of looking at it.”

“I am human,” you chuckle.

“Yes, you are,” he resumes, staring at the stars. It’s silent again; the only sound is the crackling of the fire and your breaths. Sometimes, the quiet is interrupted by Sam’s snoring, but you don’t mind. Your boys deserve the rest.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Castiel inquires.

“It’s hard for me to sleep, especially out here,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Castiel looks troubled by that statement like he is personally responsible for your ability to sleep. “When I was little, sometimes my Mom would put me in the car and drive me around in circles, singing or telling stories until I passed out.” You remember fondly, smiling a little to yourself. “I don’t think the ground is as comfortable as a car seat, though.”

“Would you like me to tell you a story?” Castiel asks. “If you need a pillow…you can use me.” He looks slightly uncomfortable, and the tips of his ears turn red, making you grin. He never fails to be adorable when he wants to be, and you know he’s offering out of the goodness of his heart. Still, the ID part of your brain is brainstorming all the ways he could profess his love for you, something that you stamp down as you shuffle over to him. He leans his back against one of the rock walls, stretching his legs out. He had already removed his trench coat, offering it to you as a blanket. It was large enough to swallow you and smelled precisely like Castiel in a way you wanted to remember for the rest of your life. You took your makeshift pillow and set it on his lap, laying your head there and curling up under his arm, which he hesitantly rested on your shoulder. You knew you had to coax your ever-beating heart to calm down if you were ever going to sleep, but it was hard when you were lying on the lap of an angel you had a crush on. Still, Castiel was a gentleman who didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.

“What’s your story?” you ask, voice small as you close your eyes and relax your body.

“Early before humans won the race for my Father’s next creation, there was a pool going on for what Earth’s next great invention would be…”

Castiel’s voice, in its low timbre, started to lull you to sleep as you listened to his story. You liked listening to him talk, and he occasionally added funny anecdotes that would make you smile. You started tuning out of the story, instead focusing on the warmth from his lap, the smell of the open air and him, and especially how his fingers had started to absentmindedly stroke shapes on your arm. Eventually, you were pulled into a deep sleep, lingering in that space where you were only slightly conscious but not awake. That space was the only way you could feel Castiel petting your hair, brushing his fingers down your scalp to your neck and back to your shoulder. Even in your dreams that night, you swear you could feel his weight everywhere.

You slept peacefully, without interruption, the whole night. Until morning, when the sound of voices roused you from your slumber.

“...did you get a girl in your lap?” Dean asked, sounding incredulous.

“She is not in my lap. She is lying on half of my lap,” Castiel answered, ever the stickler for exact estimates. You could hear Dean’s groan and sarcastic retort.

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to sleep?” you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and pushing your face more profoundly into your pillow-jacket-thing.

“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty, time to go hunting,” Dean called out. You let out a curse word, relaxing as you felt Castiel pat your head reassuringly.

“You are much more Sleeping Beauty than I am,” you responded, finally opening your eyes to the daylight but not making a move to get up. Eventually, you realized you’d have to move, so you begrudgingly sat up, cracking your neck as you did so. “Thanks for the story, Cas,” you said, averting eye contact with the angel to avoid him seeing the light flush on your cheeks. You gave him back his coat, and he kindly removed a twig that got stuck in your sweater.

“Did you sleep alright?” he inquired. You thought back to it and realized that for the first time in years, you slept through the whole night.

“Yeah, I… slept well.”

With that, Castiel smiled and helped you up. You were more alert on a hunt than you had been in a long time, all because a particular angel helped you achieve the best sleep of your life.

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #supernatural #spn #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #misha collins #my writing

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spn-incorrect-quotes · 5 months

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Dean: Why is Y/n crying on the floor?

Sam: They're drunk.

Dean: And?

Sam: They saw a picture of Castiel's spouse.

Dean: But they're Castiel's spouse.

Sam: I know.

#incorrect quotes supernatural #dean winchester #plus size reader #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #castiel novak #supernatural incorrect quotes #castiel x plus size reader #castiel x reader #castiel x you

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beanthesprout · 4 months

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Sweet Angel

Sub!Castiel x soft dom!afab reader

Castiel is feeling things he's never felt before. Things he thought he shouldn't feel as an angel. And you're more than happy to help him explore

Warnings: marking, oral sex (m recieving), pentrative sex, p in v, unprotected sex

All the boys were supposed to be out today. That's what they'd told you. Sam and Dean had taken Jack out on a hunt, and Cas was off with Bobby doing research.

You loved having the bunker to yourself. It gave you the opportunity to be more...free with your clothing choices. You loved and trusted your boys but you weren't keen on the idea of them seeing you walk around the way you were right now.

Panties and a t-shirt. No bra. And by God was it comfortable. No one was supposed to be back until the next morning, so for now you were relishing having the place to yourself.

You were wandering out of the kitchen with a beer, wanting to go back to the library to continue reading that book on witches you'd found. You were not expecting to see Castiel standing in the middle of the library, jaw dropped and face bright red as he saw you walk in.

"Oh fuck."

Cas just stared, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but he just couldn't get the words out. Your embarrassment quickly turned to amusement.

Your eyes drifted down to see that he seemed to have a bit of a problem in his pants.

"You doin alright angel?"

He raised his hands to rub his face and turn away.

"I'm sorry. I-I wasn't expecting you to have so little clothes on."

"You're more flustered than I am." You snickered.

He stayed turned away from you and you could see he was trying to adjust his pants. You set your beer on top of a bookcase and walked up behind him to lean over his shoulder and whisper in his ear.

"You having some trouble there angel?"

You heard his breath hitch in his throat at your low sultry tone and he turns his head to look at you with wide eyes.

"I've never-I dont..." His gruff voice was full of confusion. You looked down to see him trying to cover himself with his trenchant.

"I can take care of it for you." You offered sweetly.

"How?"

You grinned and went around to face him and gently pushed him backwards so he stumbled into a chair.

He sat there, legs spread and wide eyed. His face covered in shock and nervousness. You kneeled in front of him and gently ran your fingers up and down the tops of his thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Will you let me show you just how pleasurable it is to have a human body?"

Cas hesitated, his eyes searching your own for a moment before nodding.

"I need words sweetheart."

"Yes. Yes please."

A satisfied smile spread over your face as you let your hands slide down to glide over his inner thighs. He shivered as your touch went higher and higher.

Slowly you reached up to undo his belt and slowly tugged his pants down, murmuring at him to lift his hips for you, which he did immediately.

He watched you closely as you kissed up his thighs, letting out a gasp when you bit down on the soft skin of his inner thigh. You ran your tongue over the bite mark soothingly. You turned your attention to his other thigh, leaving bites and hickies all the way up.

"So sensitive." You murmured before sucking another hickey onto his thigh. Cas groaned loudly, his hands gripping tightly at the arm rests of his chair.

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his tip straining against his boxers. He sucked in a harsh breath at the action.

You gently eased him out of his underwear, enamored with the way his cock pulled free.

He whimpered when he felt your breath against it, watching intently as you licked a stripe from base to tip. He let out a strangled groan as you took the tip into his mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

You slowly took more of him into your mouth, watching his face contort with pleasure and his breath quicken.

You began bobbing your head as you took more and more of him in, eventually feeling him hit the back of your throat. He began messily thrusting into your mouth, the feelings overtaking him.

You reached up to guide his hand to your head and he immediately gripped your hair to start pushing you down on his cock. You choked a bit at first but quickly adjusted to his pace. His head lolled back as moans and groans loudly.

It didn't take long before his hips started to stutter and he tried to press you further onto his cock despite your face already being buried in his curly thick hair.

After a few more thrusts he finally emptied into your mouth, whimpering and moaning. You swallowed before gently pulling off.

Cas was panting heavily staring up at the ceiling, slowly he lowered his head to look down at you.

"You like that angel?" You grinned proudly.

"That was...unlike anything I've ever experienced."

You pressed a soft kiss to his thigh before reaching to pull his underwear back on, but he grabbed his wrists to stop you.

"What about you?"

"You don't need to worry about me sweetheart."

"I want you to feel it too." His voice was gruff, tone full of want. His eyes were intent and his cheeks were still flushed. You softened, it was sweet of him.

You stood up and leaned in to kiss him, which he happily accepted. It didn't take long until your tongue was in his mouth, he sighed at the feeling. His lips moved against yours, he was inexperienced but he was still trying. And you found it adorable.

He reached his hands up to hesitantly rest on your waist and you moved to sit on his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist. He made a small noise of surprise but continued kissing you hungrily.

You gently started to grind your hips against his, and the simple action had him moaning again and rolling his hips up into you. You grinding against him with your soaked panties was enough to make him feel that desperation and need all over again.

You'd started moaning yourself, the friction was immensely pleasurable, especially as you felt him grow hard again. God it was delicious.

You pulled back and started kissing his neck, sucking hickies onto his skin as you ran your fingers through his hair. You started to grind harder against him, enjoying the sweet breathy moans it pulled from him.

He knew he sounded pathetic, absolutely drunk on you despite being a warrior of heaven. But he really didn't care. The only thing he cared about was you and the things you were making him feel in that moment.

"More. Need more." He rasped out.

"Oh my sweet angel. I'll give you more." You whispered in his ear before nibbling his earlobe. He moaned in response, his hands tightening his grip on your waist.

You tugged your panties to the side and gently guided him to your entrance before sinking down onto him, gasping at the feeling. His fingers dug into your hips so hard you were certain there would be bruises.

You settled fully onto him, hands running through his hair.

"This what you were wanting Cas?" Your tone was teasing.

"God yes." He groaned.

Slowly you started to move on him, rolling your hips, finding the tempo that'd have both of you moaning and stuttering incoherently. His hands tugged your shirt off and he toyed with your breasts, pinching at your nipples and groping you.

And God was it good. He dragged against you in a way you'd never experienced before, and the way you fluttered and clenched around him had him crying out into your shoulder.

Over and over you murmured words of praise, encouraging him as he desperately fucked up into you.

It really didn't take long to reach your climax, clamping down on him as you cried out into his shoulder. He desperately kept going, trying his best not to release until you'd completely finished. And when you'd fallen limp against him he thrust into you a few more times before you felt heat fill you.

You both sat there for a few moments, panting as you held onto each other. Slowly you eased yourself off of him.

"Can you get me a wet washcloth please?"

He grunted and nodded, maneuvering you so you were sitting in the chair. He stood and pulled up his pants before walking off and coming back with a warm wet washcloth and kneeled down to clean you up. He froze though, enamored with the way his cum was dripling out of you.

"Cas?"

Your voice pulled him out of his stupor and he stuttered an apology before gently cleaning you up and helping you put your shirt on.

When he was done you stood up unsteady and he quickly moved to pick you up and carry you to your room.

"This isn't necessary." You chuckled.

"Of course it is." His tone made it clear there was no argument to be made.

"Well thank you." You pressed a kiss to his cheek and giggled when he blushed.

He set you down on your bed, bringing you a new pair of underwear.

"Thank you." He mumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You don't have to thank me," you chuckled, "I enjoyed it too."

"I just mean, thank you for giving me such a pleasurable experience. It's one I will never forget. And...I glad it was with you."

You practically melted at his words and hugged him from behind, "Let me know if you ever want to do it again."

He nodded in response.

You had a feeling he'd be coming to your room a lot more frequently.

#castiel #castiel smut #castiel x reader #castiel x you

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unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men · 6 months

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Y/N walking into the library wearing one of Dean's flannels the top 4 buttons unbuttoned and a pair of black panties.

Y/N: "Dean if you go out at all can you pick up some fruit? Maybe some peaches?"

Dean looking at Y/N mouth open

Y/N shaking her head glancing at Sam: "Sammy can you remind him please"

Y/N walks tm the kitchen and Dean groans.

Dean: "She's been like this the last 5 days I have no clue what the hell is going on... She's going to kill me walking around like that"

Sam laughing: "Dude it's no nut November, she's doing this on purpose"

Dean shocked

Castiel: "I do not participate in human activities, maybe I should check on her"

Dean "Absolutely not! That's my girl!"

Y/N hearing the commotion laughing: "I love November"

#incorrect supernatural quotes #supernatural incorrect quotes #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #castiel #castiel x you #castiel x reader #sam winchester

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godjustkys · 5 days

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| mdni 18+

| SUPERNATURAL headcanons

please give requests.

-----------------------------

RATED: NSFW

-----------------------------

STATUS: You're already in a relationship.

-----------------------------

Request: none, I wrote it myself on February 23rd.

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Dean:

1 - He might not admit it, but god does he love being bent over;

2 - He is SO FUCKING LOUD. When he's on top, he mostly groans, occasionally moans, but when he's on bottom,, the whimpers, whines and moans that escape his mouth is unbelievable;

3 - Praise him and he's on his knees for you;

4 - If you EVER put on a cowboy costume and you have the cowboy boots on... he's hot and bothered the moment he lays his eyes on you;

5 - LOVES pulling on your hair during intercourse;

6 - If the two of you are having sex and he's overwhelmed, he'll grab a pillow to hold onto or grip the sheets;

7 - You two have fucked in the back of Baby.. per Dean's request.. (surprisingly.);

8 - Once, in the heat of the moment, you started facefucking Dean while he was giving you a blowjob and ever since that happened, it's been his favourite thing about sex;

9 - You manhandling him is his guilty pleasure;

10 - At the start of the relationship, Dean believed that it would kind of be a switch-switch situation during sex. When you fucked for the first time, Dean was riding you and his legs started shaking. At that moment, he was thinking about getting off of you, but when you grabbed his hips and made him ride you up until the end, he gave up on that thought.

-----------------------------

Sam:

1 - He is not loud at all. Sure, a couple moans here and there but it's mostly just heavy breathing or grunts. Unless he's overstimulated;

2 - Whenever he's horny, he won't make it clear to you. He just gets all grumpy and grouchy;

3 - Unlike Dean, when he's overwhelmed, he'll hold onto you. And he'll scratch the living hell out of your back;

4 - If you mess with his hair during sex, so much as pull on it, he will moan;

5 - Once, when Sam got back from a hunt with an unconscious Dean, you scolded him and he got hard. (involuntarily);

6 - Sam insisted on trying mirror sex - lo and behold, he had his face buried in the sheets for the majority of it (when you didn't hold his head up). Why? He was embarrassed;

7 - During a hunt, Sam got really grumpy. You had to do something about it because Dean's taunting demeanour would set him off immediately, so you just dragged Sam into the bathroom, when Dean was out, for a quickie. It worked wonders;

8 - You had a habit of not caring about shortness of breath when kissing, so when you first made out with Sam, he thought he was gonna pass out. (He was overreacting, he was nowhere close to passing out);

9 - He LOVES it when you're bold and straightforward, it turns him on so much;

10 - His whole body starts shaking due to pleasure if you focus on his chest and neck too much.

-----------------------------

Castiel:

1 - If he's in the mood for it, he won't tell you. He will just stare at you until you figure it out yourself;

2 - If there is a moment when Castiel doesn't put his hands on your chest or stare at it, consider it a miracle;

3 - He cannot comprehend why he can't form coherent sentences during intercourse. He says "it must be some kind of curse". In reality, he's just too into it to care enough about speaking properly, but he does not realize it;

4 - Castiel does not realize how much you being rough with him turns him on. Degrade him for a couple seconds and he's hard;

5 - During sex, he holds onto you so tightly with his hands that a lot of the time, they leave bruises. Once, he noticed them and asked what happened. When you told him that they were from him, he just looked at you confused and said: "I never hit you?";

6 - Even though you being rough riles him up a lot, he prefers soft and gentle sex.

7 - When the four of you, you, Sam, Dean and Castiel were riding in Baby (you and Cas in the back seat), you decided to just lay your head in Castiel's lap and get comfortable. He was your boyfriend after all. It was fine at first, you even closed your eyes. Then suddenly, Castiel pushed you off. You sat up looking at him puzzled. He just gave you glare as he looked out of the window and covered his crotch. (Inconvenient places to get hard #2);

8 - He knows how mad it drives you when he gives you that soft innocent look during sex, it just makes you want to go rougher on him;

9 - He once asked you to 'rail him' without knowing what it meant. When you explained it to him, he replied with "oh, okay. So will you?";

10 - He finds your hands (minus your chest) the most attractive thing in the world. He WILL stare at your hands during intercourse because he wants them on him 24/7.

-----------------------------

A/n: if you want any of these headcanons to be made into a oneshot, please let me know. <3

#male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #castiel x reader #castiel x you #headcanon #request

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lunaroserites · 6 months

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Stunning

Pairing: Established Castiel x Winchester!Reader (Fem)

Summery: Based after Castiel became human, and loosely based off a post I seen about how after he became human he say Dean's face for the first time.

Words: 1365

Warning: Fluff, Kissing, a little sad with a happy ending, Canon Divergent (Canon is a suggestion). Not edited we die like Winchesters.

She sat comfortably on one of the plush couches in the library. Her coffee mug clutched between her hands, she was trying to absorb the heat from the ceramic mug. The bunker was cold in the mornings, the fans above that pulled fresh air in were noticeable in the quiet of the morning.

Her morning tea brought her the heat she needed to get ready for the day. Her brothers had left her in a hurry last night after getting a frantic call from Castiel telling them the angels fell and he lost his grace. She wanted to go but her brothers said it would be best if she stayed home and manned the phone, hunters would be calling for assistance and she was best to answer their calls.

Her job as a hunter was picking up for Bobby, she would spend days on end researching with him, learning from him, she took over for him when he passed. Her heart clenched thinking back to the elder hunter she viewed as a father.

Her brothers had called an hour ago to tell her they would be home soon and they had her angel in tow. Well he wasn’t an angel anymore she figured. Losing his grace meant he was pretty much human now.

The bunker door banged open, making her jump as the peaceful quiet was shattered by the sound of heavy boots and grunts as three of the most important men in her life made their way to where she was curled up. One of Dean's flannels covered most of her upper body, the sleeves rolled up. She never slept well alone so she would wear one of Dean’s flannels and she would use Sam's blanket and pillow that Castiel would use during the night as she slept next to him. She would surround herself in their safety.

She looked at her brothers, Dean was the first down the stairs he gave her a grim look, she searched his face for something to indicate what she should be prepared for. He gave her very little. Sammy was right behind him and his face was less grim but not much more optimistic looking. The last was Castiel, and he looked awful. He looked exhausted, he looked cold. He looked completely lost. He hadn’t looked at her yet, his face downcast as he made his way down the stairs, he gripped the rail harder than she had ever seen him grip it before.

She stood before Castiel made it to the bottom of the stairs, she walked forward and stood just behind Dean, her hands wrapped around his arm, he brought his free hand up and rubbed soothing circles on her hand. Sammy stood beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, he leaned down, “he’s a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her.

Castiel was at the bottom landing still looking down but focused on his hands in front of him. She nodded at her brother and took slow steps forward before she stopped a couple paces from the former Angel. He still hadn’t looked up from his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his, she wanted to sooth his fidgeting fingers, ease his worries. Make him feel better.

“Cas,” she said quietly, his heart fluttered at how softly she spoke to him. Her voice brought him some peace, it didn’t sound much different from while he was an angel. The brothers had sounded different. Much more gruff, not as smooth. Her voice was still like little bells that chimed in perfect harmony. Her voice was music to his ears.

She moved closer to him, her other hand touching his cheek gently, she was trying to coax his face upwards so she could look at him fully. He leaned his cheek into her touch, her touch was feather light, gentle and soothing. Her skin felt like a warm blanket to him, her fingers trembling against his cheek. He could feel her worry roll off her in waves. She always wore how she was feeling on her sleeve, he always knew how she was feeling. She was always one of the easiest to understand even while he was Angel.

“Castiel, look at me” she cooed gently at him, he lifted his face and had his eyes closed. He was afraid of her looking into his eyes and not seeing the Angel he was and only seeing the shell that was left. She ran her thumb across his cheek, a few of his tears slipped past his closed eyes. That was a sensation he was not going to get used to anytime soon. “Please love.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. He truly looked at her face, for the first time he saw her face. She was beautiful. Her skin was speckled with years of living, laugh lines, crows feet. She looked like she truly lived. While an angel he had never seen her face for what it truly was. But now he sees every pore, every wrinkle, every freckle. Her eyes were a beautiful green like Dean’s, her lips a soft pink and her hair was a lovely mahogany color.

He took his clenched hands from her and placed them on her face, inspecting her, feeling her skin for the first time. He had touched her before but never had it felt this real. It was so overwhelming, his heart was beating loudly in his ears as he stared deeply into her eyes. Her lips parted as she took a sharp breath when he touched her.

Then she smiled at him, “Castiel.”

“You are stunning,” Castiel said breathlessly. He brought her face towards his and kissed her gently. The feeling of her lips on his was almost too much for his mortal heart to handle. He hadn’t imagined what it would be like, to feel life like a human, he hadn’t imagined she would feel this perfect.

Someone cleared their throat behind the two, Castiel reluctantly pulled back from her and she gave him a sweet smile.

“So this my Castiel now?” She said softly, her eyes searching his face.

“This is your Castiel now,” his voice sounded the same, he looked the same, a little rugged and his lips felt the same. The only difference was the lack of soft thumb she would feel buzzing under his skin. The thumbing would get stronger under her touch. That was the only thing that was gone.

“Well I’m okay with that,” she pulled him to her side and wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was just happy he was alive and he was here with her.

Dean looked between his baby sister and Castiel, when they first started dating he was against it. Hell he still didn’t like it. Castiel promised him he would protect her with his life. Something he truly meant as he had risked his life more than once to keep her safe. Now that Cas was human he didn’t know how protecting her would go, but he knew Castiel would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Sam had left the library and went to find some food for the four of them. He had noticed his blanket on the couch, knowing she stayed there the whole night, waiting for them to come home. Dean’s flannel hung loosely off her frame, and he figured the pillow that was next to his blanket was Castiel’s pillow.

He hated leaving her here alone, she was never good with it, someone always stayed with her or she was with them. Ever since her Castiel got together he always made sure she wasn’t alone for long periods of time and he would constantly update her on his whereabouts. Something Sam appreciated greatly from the former Angel. He looked at the fridge, being held up with a piece of electrical tape, there was a picture of the four of them. They were all smiling, she insisted it be taped to the fridge, a reminder that no matter what they had each other and there was room for happiness in this fucked up world.

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #supernatural #supernatural imagine #castiel fluff #castiel imagine #castielxwinchester!reader #not edited we die like winchesters #winchester sister #reader insert #female reader

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raz-writes-the-thing · 2 months

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Sudden Appearances Make For Good Times (Supernatural Drabble)

Castiel x GN!Reader / requests are open / 18+

Summary: Castiel learns his best moves from the pizza man.

Fic type: smut-lite (just making out, really)

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Castiel had appeared suddenly behind you and without warning. He'd startled you so badly that you had almost stabbed him with your Rabbi-blessed angel blade. You'd narrowly missed stabbing him right through the arm as he rose it to deflect the attack.

"Cas- fuck, you know better than to sneak up on a hunter- are you joking?" You dropped the blade just as soon as your brain caught up with who it was you were trying to knife.

Castiel eyed you carefully, one hand still gripping your wrist and the other slowly wrapping around your waist. His warm hands, slid further around your waist, your hips and then finally your back. The Angel pulled you toward him and firmly planted his lips on yours.

He let go of your wrist and you immediately wrapped it around the base of his neck. You heard the clatter of the blade hitting the motel floor and pulled him towards you. You walked the two of you backwards until you hit the console table against the very thin wall of your room.

Castiel's hips crowded against your thighs and you widened your legs further to allow him as close as possible. You both fought for dominance over the kiss, hands trailing under each others' clothes and teeth nipping at skin playfully- almost harsh enough to draw blood.

"Cas-" you gasped as he began sucking a mark into the skin right over your clavicle. "For- for an Angel, you're really raunchy," you laughed, tilting your head back to allow him as much access as he could ask for.

When he pulled back, you took a moment to appreciate his flushed cheeks and his blown-wide eyes, the pupils taking over his iris in an involuntary bodily admission of his lust.

"Dean gave me recommendations for more pizza man videos," he answered. You arched your brow, not entirely knowing what that meant and yet having a pretty good idea at the same time. Those fucking Winchesters. Absolute menaces.

"Porn?" You snorted, hands reaching around to grab his ass and pull his hips against you closer. "Oh honey, no. If you want to learn about sex, you don't want to learn from porn."

Castiel's brow furrowed briefly before smoothing out again. Roughly, he trailed his fingers over your belly and down to where you needed him most.

"As far as I can tell," he said darkly, eyes flashing bright blue for a moment with lust, "you have yet to complain."

Well, you couldn't argue with that, could you?

#supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #spn fanfiction #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #castiel x reader #castiel x you #spn smut #supernatural smut

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super-incorrect · 5 months

Text

Castiel - *eating a cinnamon roll*

Y/n - Cannibalism

Castiel - *confused chewing noises*

#incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes supernatural #supernatural #y/n incorrect quotes #supernatural incorrect quotes #spn incorrect quotes #spnfandom #incorrect quotes spn #spn x y/n #spn x reader #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel novak #incorrect quotes castiel #castiel incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes castiel novak #castiel #incorrect quotes spn castiel

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lila-lou · 6 months

Text

✨Hot water bottle✨

Summary: You're pregnant and Dean feels like he's letting you down.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Cas x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1147

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You tiredly pushed your hair out of your face before carefully pulling the blanket off your body and slowly getting out of bed. Your back cracked dully as you stood upright in the room. Your hand went straight to your lower back as a muffled moan escaped you. Your whole body ached and it was almost unbearable, even though you were only seven months pregnant. You still had two months to go and every single one of your muscles was already giving out.

Your eyes wandered to your phone on the nightstand. It was only 3am and the fourth time you had woken up with baby Dean practicing hunting with your bladder. You somehow sluggishly dragged yourself to the bathroom. A few minutes passed before you finally found the strength to get up from the toilet. After washing your hands, you actually wanted to go back to bed, but Castiel, who was sitting at the kitchen table, researching a new case, caught your attention.

“This is the fourth time in 3 hours (y/n). Are you sure you don’t have a bladder infection?”, Cas asked bluntly. He didn't even have to turn around to know you were awake. To get to Dean's room you had to pass through the kitchen, so you paid him a quick visit to answer him.

“Cas, I’m pregnant”, you murmur, looking over his shoulder. “You’re in pain. I can feel that. I can help you”, he replied without taking his eyes off the large book in front of him.

“That's really nice of you, but less than two hours later my back would definitely kill me again. I guess that’s normal”, you sighed before sinking onto the bench next to him. Seconds later, Cas placed a hand on your lower back, still not looking at you. Since your shirt rode up when you sat down, he was able to make direct skin-to-skin contact without much effort. Just as you were about to ask what the hell he was doing, you felt a pleasant warmth radiate from your back throughout your entire body. “Ugh… better than any hot water bottle”, you moaned quietly. "Thanks, Cas".

He didn't answer, but kept his hand in place for a while. Minutes passed before you heard someone enter the kitchen.

"What's going on here?", Dean asked, standing in the doorway with heavy eyes only half open. “Cas! What the hell are you doing?!". His tone was a mix of confusion and tiredness. However, you were also pretty sure you heard an undertone of annoyance. Ever since you were pregnant, Dean had been even more anxious than ever to protect you. He knew that Cas would never do anything that could hurt you, quite the opposite. Cas was the first to find out that you were pregnant. Even before yourself. Since then, he has done everything he can, to support you. Still, Dean couldn't suppress his jealousy well. It wasn't that he doubted your or Cas' feelings or intentions, but rather that he felt unnecessary. Cas could do so much better at many things with his powers and help faster than Dean that he was just afraid of disappointing you.

“(y/n) has a back pain”, Cas finally looked up from his book. “His hand is like a heater”, you added, smiling softly at your boyfriend. Dean inhaled sharply and rubbed his face before walking towards you. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have just made you a hot water bottle”, he gently ran his large hand through your hair. His expression was now more concerned than angry. Dean didn’t like how the pregnancy was affecting you at all. You struggled with morning sickness for much longer than most women. Your back pain started much earlier and was much more intense. Not to mention your constant tiredness. And that wasn't even half of your complaints. "I didn´t want to wake you up. You came home so late from hunting”, you admitted, leaning against his stomach. “You can always wake me up baby”, he kissed the top of your head, causing Cas to pull his hand away.

“Come back to bed”, Dean murmured into your hair, gently pulling you to your feet by your hand. As you yawned and rubbed your eyes tiredly, he picked you up without further ado and went back to his room with you in his arms. “Knowing you, you´ll trip and break a leg”, he said amused as you looked at him, surprised that he was carrying you.

“You’re the best”, you whispered against his chest, a slight grin on your lips. Dean looked down at you briefly, pulling in his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"What is wrong?", you traced the contours of his bare chest. He didn't answer, just shook his head slightly. “Dean”, you admonished him, sliding your hand to his neck.

"I hate not being able to help you like Cas", he grumbled, lightly pushing open the door to his room with his foot. "I knocked you up but Cas is taking better care of you than I ever will".

While your eyes were on Dean's face, he purposely looked away. Despite the fact that you had been together for so many months, it was still incredibly difficult for Dean to be vulnerable with you. As he gently laid you down on the bed, you grabbed his hand and made him look at you. “That’s not true Dean”, you whispered, pulling him closer again. “You take great care of me. I don't miss anything and you´re already the best dad I could wish for our Baby. Yes, Cas is helping me and I'm really grateful to him, but he'll never be able to replace you".

You hadn't finished your statement when Dean took his hand away from you and raised both arms slightly in desperation. “No matter what I do, he does it better. Let's just take your back pain. My stupid hot water bottle can't keep up with his magical heater hands".

As Dean whirled around for a few more minutes, you couldn't help but smile slightly. At some point, however, you had to stop his little outburst. “Could it be that your ego is a little bruised?”. You raised an eyebrow.

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. "Of course it fucking is!". He admitted without thinking too much about it. He sank on the bed next to you, feeling a little depressed. “I want to be a good dad, but I want to be a damn good Boyfriend even more”, he murmured.

A soft smile crept on your lips as you pulled his face towards you with both hands. “You already are. I promise”, you gave him a quick kiss. “And there’s one thing in particular that you’re much better at than everyone else”.

Your smile turned into a smirk.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”, he asked challengingly.

#jensen ackles #spn #dean winchester #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural #dean x y/n #castiel #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #Dean x pregnant reader

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hollybell51 · 1 year

Text

Last night on Earth

^don't mind me going absolutely feral over this gif

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Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s05e03 "free to be you and me"

Word count: 6.4K

Summary: following the hooker failure, you feel that sitting alone in a shitty abandoned house is not the best way to spend one's last night on Earth. Cas seems to agree with you.

Content: smut! Yay! First kisses, first time, making out, handjobs, hickeys, penetrative sex, safe sex (yay!), cowgirl, mutual masturbation, fingering, gags? if you squint? maybe? like a hand over the mouth. Discussions of sex work and sex workers (I'm not commenting on anything, it's just there as dialogue due to the nature of the episode, and all dialogue/internal monologue regarding the topic is purely for the furtherment of the plot). Talking during sex, Cas is loud. Sex on a couch, spooning, almost-love-confessions ("like-confessions"). Very light comment on body image, some very vague descriptions of scars (reader is a hunter). Cas is just Cas and I love him for it. He's also a virgin. Dean's probably a warning but I adore him.

Notes: Heyyyy how's it going? One day into my holidays and I churn out this bad boy. Couldn't get the idea out of my head, and hey, I'm a sucker for virgin angels. This show is rapidly taking over my whole life lmao.

It's also been a while so I just thought I'd remind people of the taglist form, and the existence of my AO3 (if you wanna read my stuff there for whatever reason). Anyways enjoy, stay safe out there xx

“That was quick,” you called as the door creaked open, Dean’s low chuckle echoing through the hallway. You closed the book you’d been reading – a shitty paperback you’d picked out of a bargain bin – and watched as the other hunter dropped his jacket onto a rusted dining chair. You’d expected them to be gone for a few hours, hence your foray into the realms of “downtime”, but it had barely been one since they’d left, Dean throwing an obscenely enthusiastic wink your way as he shoved an apprehensive looking Cas out to enjoy his last night on Earth.

“We had to wrap it up pretty fast.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas, laughter still clinging to his face. You hadn’t seen him look that happy in ages, not for this long. Well, that was something at least.

You’d had your doubts about the whole idea from the moment Dean had mentioned it. Sure, sex was sex. It was something that could be pretty darn nice and that you were glad for in your life, but you weren’t sure if Dean fully grasped that it was never the same with a hooker. It would never feel as good, it would never be meaningful, it would be a service purchased from a provider. A business transaction. That wasn’t any way to experience it for the first time, in your opinion.

“Good time not a long time, then?” you asked mildly.

“Would you say that, Cas?”

The angel stiffened, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat.

You wrinkled your nose, suddenly wondering if you should feel bad. “Bad time?”

Dean snorted. “I’m turning in. You tell (Y/N) about it, she’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you it’s alright. And don’t look so… grief stricken.”

“G’night,” you waved to his retreating back, then turned back to Cas. “Really bad time?”

He really did look grief stricken, standing stock still in the dimness. Even his hair looked droopier than usual, and you almost got out of your seat just to push it off his face. You settled for putting your book down and leaning forward.

“She ran away,” he said after a moment. “I think I scared her.”

“Geez,” you frowned. “How’d you scare a hooker?”

He shrugged. “I told her it wasn’t her fault that her father Gene ran off.” Then, as if it explained everything; “He hated his job at the post office.”

You laughed, but stopped quickly. “Oh, Cas. You know the whole–”

“The whole industry is run on absent fathers, I know.” He sighed. “Dean found it hilarious.”

This time, you did get up, crossing the room to pat his shoulder. You knew Dean wouldn’t have meant anything by it, wouldn’t have been laughing at Cas. Still, a pang of what was almost pity shot through you. It wasn’t about the sex, not really, as much as Dean played that aspect up. It was more all the coulds that never would. Cas wasn’t human, as much as he could pass it off (mostly), but there were so many things that he wasn’t going to get to try now. You just didn’t understand how he could so casually volunteer to die at the drop of a hat. It was either incredibly selfless, or incredibly selfish. Or maybe just stupid.

But no, Cas wasn’t stupid. He was razor sharp, a soldier of God, even if you poked fun at him when he didn’t understand your and Dean’s pop-culture reference infused slang. It had only been the last time you’d seen him that you’d vowed to make him sit through all the Star Wars movies, something you hadn’t realised until afterwards had sounded a lot like a “movie and chill” proposal. Luckily, he wouldn’t have picked up on that. Just like he wouldn’t have picked up – like Dean had – the moments where you caught yourself watching him, or the smiles that were just too damned determined to break out on your face when he showed up – either in the real world or in your mind. And thank the heavens nobody but you noticed the tiny flurries of butterflies in your stomach you’d noticed increasingly often when he was around, the surges of warmth that would sneak up and rush over you unexpectedly when you thought of him, the tingles that flooded your skin when he stood that little bit too close to you.

Which, when you thought about it, was maybe contributing to the ounce of vindication you were feeling regarding the hooker failure. It wasn’t all the “I told you so” type of satisfaction, anyway, and you weren’t too proud to admit when you liked someone.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him now, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re giving me a pat on the back and telling me it’s alright,” he sighed, almost mournfully. “Dean said–”

You reached up, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking your head. “You wanna know something?”

He nodded, brows furrowed. He hadn’t drawn back, you noticed.

“It doesn’t matter how much sex Dean has,” you whispered, hand still floating close by his face. “I wouldn’t take a damn letter of his advice in that department.”

“Why not?” His breath tickled your skin, and suddenly you realised just how close you were standing.

You shrugged, dispelling the shiver that had run up your spine. “I just know if a dude came onto me how he comes onto chicks, I’d kick him in the balls.”

“I’ll make a point to not come onto you like he does, in that case.”

It took a moment – past the words “like he does”, not that he wouldn’t come onto you full stop, but like Dean does – for the fact that it was a joke to sink in, then you smiled. Maybe there was, or had been, hope for him yet. You took a breath, turning the words over in your mind. It was now or never, you supposed.

“I want you to know,” you said carefully, “if you die–”

“When. Tomorrow, when I die.”

“Uh, yeah.” You swallowed. How could he be so matter of fact about it? How could he just say it like that? It didn’t matter, you supposed. Whether he said it or didn’t, it wasn’t going to change the fact that it was happening.

“When I die…” he prompted when you were silent.

“I want you to know that I liked you,” you said simply, then shrugged. “I think I was on the way to really liking you.”

He frowned, and for a moment you thought you’d made a massive mistake. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I’m… a dick.”

“Jesus, Cas,” you snorted. “Guess we say that a bit too much, don’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“And we don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.”

He shook his head, still holding your hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.

“It’s not about that. Not all of it, anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your hand where it met his. It looked big, wrapped around your fingers, and it fitted painfully well. “But, you know, if it’s your last night on Earth…” You looked up, wiggling your eyebrows. You could play it off as a joke if you needed to, you weren’t too far in yet.

That familiar almost-smile you’d come to look for danced over his lips. “You pity me, dying a virgin? Dying,” he added. “A virgin.”

You laughed. “I don’t… pity you. Not exactly. Not because you’re gonna die a virgin, and definitely not because you’re a virgin.”

“Because I scared away a prostitute?”

“Her loss,” you laughed. “And anyway, if it’s your first and last time, it’d be nice to… y’know… feel good.”

He frowned. “Surely a prostitute would know how to do that?”

“Maybe the technicalities,” you shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. There’s feelings, y’know?”

“Feelings?”

Again, you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. What were you doing? “Two way street kind of thing,” you explained lamely. “Not just someone you want, but someone who wants you. Not just your money.” You were acutely aware of the unspoken words floating beneath the casual sentence. I want you. It could be me.

A pause, where his eyes seemed to bore into your soul. He had a knack for that, you’d noticed. Sometimes you felt like he could see right to the very core of your being. In the dimness, they looked even more startlingly blue than usual. He was so close, you could almost count his eyelashes, almost feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath the coat, jacket, shirt, tie…

“When it’s…” He paused, his tongue darting over his lips. God, his lips. “Someone you want.”

“Mhm.”

“Someone who wants you.”

“Mhm.”

“Not just your money.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off his mouth through the whole exchange, and your voice, when you asked, sounded softer than you’d meant it to, breathy and faint to your own ears. “Do you want me, Cas? Last night on Earth, and all.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, brows twitching into a thoughtful frown. No, you thought, not quite a frown. Something else, more curious than confused. Almost quizzical. “I think…” He paused, drawing breath. “I think I do.”

“Ok,” you smiled, ignoring the butterfly rampage taking place in your stomach. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not your life, anyway, even if it was Cas’s last night on Earth. It didn’t exist outside the pages of those shitty paperbacks.

“Do you want me?” Cas asked.

“Mhm.” It was all you could manage, really. Then you were stretching up the last few inches between your face and his, pressing your lips gently against his own.

He was perfectly still for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, almost three. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you closer, trench coat rustling where your chest met it. He kissed you the way you remembered the first boy who’d ever kissed you – a boy in your year level at school, at a party, playing spin the bottle no less – had kissed you. The want was all there, the enthusiasm and anticipation and the only half-conscious desire for more. His lips remained shut, but you could feel in it that he knew it wasn’t quite right.

You pulled away briefly, just enough to raise a hand to his mouth and run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Like this,” you murmured, pushing just enough to part his lips. Then your hands were in his hair and you were pulling him down to you, and this time it was perfect.

He made a little sound of pleasure as your tongue slipped beside his, stroking, caressing, gently as you could. Without any guidance, his hand had found the cloth-shielded contours of your breast, tracing the outline with a sort of awe. His fingers ran along the neckline of your top, dipping under the material, curving around your bare shoulder, exploratory and cautious.

You let him explore you, his hands mapping out every curve he could touch, tongue darting into every uncharted depth he could find, tasting and learning and discovering parts of you you hadn’t guessed could be felt like this through just a kiss. Your mind spiralled as his hand eased under your shirt, cool fingers tickling the skin of your hip. He squeezed gently, pulling you against him harder, and you gave in completely. You weren’t sure if it was what he had been going for, but when you pushed your pelvis against his he gasped; a quiet, shuddering little sound that went straight to your panties.

“Ok?” you breathed between kisses, then, at his nod, you did it again.

His voice was strangled when he said your name, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Oh Cas, you thought. A rush of affection washed over you at how eager he was, where just an hour before he’d been being literally pushed out the door by Dean, looking as terrified as you’d ever seen him at the prospect of sex. Now he was kissing you hungrily, kneading at your skin, inching your shirt up off your torso, his feet at risk of tangling with yours as he walked you backwards. Not to mention the increasingly noticeable bulge pressed against you.

“Clothes off,” you breathed, already undoing his tie. “On the couch.”

He paused, then he was shrugging off the trench coat, the blazer following suit – no pun intended – and landing with a soft rustling thump on the floor. You stepped back, just a little, as he deftly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, drinking in every inch of skin like a kid in a lolly shop. Fuck, maybe you had the hots for him even worse than you’d thought.

“Are you going to undress too?” The question was mild, matter of fact, but something in the way Cas had paused midway through relieving himself of his pants and was watching you, hands still on the belt buckle, made you stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out too low, too husky. “Sure.”

His gaze didn’t leave you for an instant – apart from when he kicked his discarded trousers aside – as you pulled your shirt the rest of the way over your head, slid your jeans as gracefully as you could down your legs. You shivered slightly in the cool night air, acutely aware of your hunter’s body.

Cas’s eyes widened, scanning over you and taking in every inch of your skin. It wasn’t perfect, you were aware of that. It wasn’t like a hooker’s body, it carried you around as you fought monsters, and was littered with the proof of said monster fights. You wondered if Cas had seen other – normal – human bodies like this, if he’d find the painfully obvious reminders of your mortality somehow repellent. You suddenly felt very, very small and very, very human.

“Sorry about… y’know…” You shrugged, patting your thigh awkwardly. “The meatsack’s a little dinged up. Most people don’t look like this.”

“Don’t look like what?” he frowned, finally looking back at your face.

You shrugged again, poking a long white scar over your side. The first werewolf you’d ever come face to face with, and nearly the last. “Scarred. At least not as much as I am,” you added.

A shiver shot up your spine as Cas settled his hands on your bare waist, fingers running over the most noticeable marks. “Don’t apologise,” he said softly. “You’re human, and you spend your days killing monsters. It would be more disturbing if you were unblemished.”

You laughed at that, a small breathy sound. “You think I’m disturbing?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re not so bad.”

You felt your own mouth curve, matching his. “Neither are you.”

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours once more. This kiss was softer, more intimate, maybe a little too intimate. You were vaguely aware of the couch behind you. Before your knees knocked against its side, you broke away – a difficult task, given that Cas chased your lips like a lab rat after cheese – and spun, laying your hands firmly on his chest.

“Couch,” you muttered, giving a gentle push.

He pulled you with him as he sat down, his hands running down over your hips, your thighs, back up again to your waist. He watched you carefully as his touch slid up the centre of your torso, over your bra, lingering momentarily on the anti-possession sigil tattooed over your heart before he moved on, across the line of your ribs. Unbidden, the memory of the last time he’d touched you there sprang to mind; the sharp, burning pain and throbbing after-ache of the Enochian sigils being literally carved into your bones.

“I can see them,” he whispered, as if he’d read your mind. “The sigils.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How do they look?”

“Foreign,” he said after a moment. “They don’t belong.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, the sigils weren’t part of you, and you didn’t exactly know how you felt about angel writing being carved into your ribcage, but there was also something reassuring about knowing it was there, knowing you carried that kind of magic with you. In you.

Cas’s eyes lifted from your body, fixing on your own. “Can you feel them?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Not really. Not physically. But I know they’re there.”

“Perhaps I should have asked,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s your body, after all.”

“No,” you smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I kinda like the idea of you scribbling on me. Bone graffiti.”

“Bone graffiti?”

You felt the smile grow, nodding. “Besides,” you added, “I’ll always have a little bit of you, even after you're gone. Like a… souvenir.”

“Oh,” was all he said. You supposed people were right about impending death making people sappier. But still, what you said was true. Your own ribs had become a kind of lucky charm, a talisman, a locket of sorts.

You dragged yourself out of that line of thinking before you went any further, turning your attention back to the angel currently underneath you on the couch. Underneath you and very shirtless. You’d placed your own hands on his chest in an attempt to not fall over on top of him, and now you let yourself touch him – really touch him. His chest heaved under your fingers as you swept over him, a tiny, strangled noise falling from his lips.

“Alright?” you asked, pausing for a moment.

He nodded, shifting slightly under you. “It’s good,” he said softly.

“Keep going?”

Again, a nod. Cautiously, gently, you spread your fingers over his chest. His heart beat fast, thudding frantically as you moved your other hand lower, down the centre of his torso, following the contours of his lithe muscles. You reached the waistband of his underpants, pausing.

“Can I?” you asked, your hand hovering over his barely concealed erection.

“Yes,” he whispered, tongue darting over his lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your hand, back to your face again.

You smiled as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. His dick was hot to the touch, hard and already damp at the tip. “You ever touched yourself?” you asked as you withdrew your hand, spitting into your palm.

Cas’s breath hitched. “Once.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips again. “Dean said I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well…” You smiled again, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking languidly. “You can tell me.”

He gave a sort of half gasp, half moan, his grip tightening on your thigh. “I found Dean’s magazine,” he confessed. “The one with the women, not the cars.”

“Mhm?” You kept your voice mild, focussing on the steady motion of your arm and wrist, your fingers sliding effortlessly over him. You could almost see Cas flipping through the pages of one of those god-awful porn mags Dean insisted on carting around, picture his confused little head-tilt and his frown as he looked through the pictures, his hand creeping to where yours was now, his much larger fingers circling–

“It was uncomfortable,” he continued, jerking you back to the present. “Too hot. I really just wanted it to go away.”

“And did it?”

“Not until I– oh!” He broke off as your thumb slid over the leaking head of his cock, fingers digging into your thigh.

You fought off the surge of heat the sound sent shooting through you, watching his slightly parted lips, his wide eyes. “Did you cum?” you asked evenly.

“Yes,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly. “Oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Yes, you did cum?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Was it good?”

Another soft moan, then he smiled. “Not as good as this.”

Maybe it was the praise, maybe the moan, maybe the smile. Either way, the words went straight to your panties. You ignored it, stopping yourself from grinding against him with willpower that would have impressed Jesus. Although, you weren’t sure how he would have felt about you fucking a literal angel.

You leant forward, kissing his lips gently, then his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. You kept going, tracing a path inexorably downwards, shuffling backwards to straddle his thigh as he shifted with you, now splayed along the couch lengthways.

“Help me out,” you muttered, your hand moving beside your face as you attempted to pull his underwear off. Obediently, he lifted his hips and kicked them aside, the muscles of his stomach twitching as you placed a kiss on the junction of his hip. And holy shit, you could have just watched his torso moving like that forever. You kissed his hip again, sucking gently at the spot, licking over the mark you conjured. Then you added another beside it, and another, and another. A little belt of hickeys across his pelvis.

“Do you, hm, touch yourself too?” he asked, breathless and raw.

“Fuck, Cas.” You paused where you’d been about to kiss the base of his cock, raising your eyes to his. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell again, the skin almost glowing in the dim light.

He frowned. “Am I not supposed to ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you want,” you assured him, kissing the little trail of hair below his belly button. “And yeah, I do.”

“Does it feel good?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Do you…” He paused, searching for the words. “Do you want to do it now?”

“This is about you,” you said softly, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I want you to feel good too.”

You sat up, studying him. There was nothing by sincerity in his eyes, the genuine desire – and desire there was – for you to enjoy yourself. And why shouldn’t you indulge that? You were having a great time as it was, and there was no denying the throbbing ache that had grown exponentially between your legs.

“You want me to touch myself?” you asked, double checking.

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Ok.” You shed your own underpants, shivering as the cool air came in contact with your wetness. Slowly, you reached down and ran your finger over your clit, your breath hitching in your chest. You repeated the action, your hand moving further down to circle your entrance, slick gathering on your fingers. You’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t ashamed of it. Masturbation was natural, it was a perfectly normal perfectly human thing to do. This, however was different. You’d never had an audience before, never had anyone watch you with such rapt wonder and awe.

Cas’s eyes flicked down to your bra, then back to your face. A question, almost a request.

“Off?” you asked, already reaching behind your back. He nodded, watching carefully as you shed the garment and cast it aside to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he stretched up and kissed your breast, his hand leaving its place on your hip to trace over the other one.

A shiver ran down your spine and you bit down on your lip, attempting futilely to stifle your moan. Absently, your hand resumed its place between your thighs as Cas’s hand left your chest and found its way to his cock. You’d never in a million years have thought you’d be where you were now; touching yourself on top of an angel touching himself while he did his best to turn your chest into one giant hickey. You were hardly complaining.

Something rustled in the next room over, and you both froze. Fuck, you thought. Dean was still (hopefully) asleep, only the wall and the hastily closed door to that room barring him from hearing you. Cas seemed to have had exactly the same thought, his head tilted slightly as he listened, his breath raising goosebumps on the spit-damp skin of your chest. There was another rustle, then a quiet snort, then nothing. He hadn’t woken, then.

“We gotta be quiet,” you whispered. You shifted, biting back another moan. “Ok?”

“Ok,” Cas nodded. He pressed his lips firmly together, eyes flicking down to where your hand disappeared between your legs. You hissed as you resumed your movement, acutely aware of every possible sound you or Cas made, ears pricked for any other disturbance from nextdoor.

Cas’s free hand was still resting on your thigh, firmly holding you in place on top of himself. His wrist brushed your own with every stroke of his cock, the skin over his stomach and chest twitching ever so slightly. His own thigh tensed as he thrust into his hand, something that you could only describe as a whimper falling from his lips. Heat surged over you, your mind awash with desire. If only that hooker knew what she was missing.

“Sorry,” he muttered almost immediately, eyes darting towards the door.

“‘Salright,” you replied, swallowing hard. Being quiet was a much more difficult task than you’d anticipated, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the possibility of being caught just a little bit. You grunted softly as your finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, the familiar rhythm and movements working just as well as ever, and even better when you had Cas to look at. Not to mention the warmth of his mouth where it occasionally found your breasts again.

But you wanted more, you needed more. The same part of you that was electrified by your own touch craved his, especially when his beautiful hands were right there and his eyes were still fixed on you like you were the centre of the universe, his own movements becoming faster and more frantic, chest heaving.

You paused, much as it pained you. “Do you wanna go further?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gently, you laid your hand over his and peeled it away from his cock. Wriggling forwards a little, you finally – finally – rocked your hips over his, revelling in the hot hardness of him against your slick. His mouth fell open, fingers tightening on your own.

“Here, Cas. I want you inside me, wanna fuck you properly.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he sighed, his own hips matching your movement.

“Will you let me? Let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, of course.”

You smiled. “Ok, one second.” You reached over the side of the couch, digging through the pockets of your jeans until you found your wallet – and the little foil package inside it.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked as you tore it open and set the latex atop his dick.

“It’s a condom,” you explained. “So I don’t get pregnant. No offence,” you grinned, “but I don’t really wanna have your babies any time soon.”

“Oh.” He swallowed, processing. “That’s… understandable.”

“All good?” At his nod, you slid the condom the rest of the way down, spitting into your hand once more and resuming your earlier ministrations. “It feels a little different, I know,” you whispered as you moved to grind against him once more.

“It’s still good,” he assured you, placing his hands gently on your hips.

You smiled. “Ready?”

“Yes.” The word was a breath, nothing more, but it was all you needed. Carefully, you lined him up and sank down, watching his face carefully. His eyes widened, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as a deep groan reverberated through the space between you.

“Gotta be quiet,” you reminded him, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. “Don’t wanna wake Dean up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, “quiet.”

You leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss on his lips, rocking your hips over his. He was everything you’d imagined and so much more. It was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. You wanted to go back in time and kick your past self for having waited this long.

“God, Cas,” you sighed. “Oh God.”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched up and captured your lips with his, moving down over your jaw to your neck, sucking gently just as you’d done to the skin of his hip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close against you as you lifted and lowered your hips, a faint whine somehow slipping from your lips despite your best efforts.

“Is this, hm, ok?” he asked, his usually gravelly voice made even more so.

“Fuck,” you gasped as his hand came to rest on your ass, kneading at the soft flesh, moving up over the front of your hips where your leg met the rest of your body. “So good, Cas.”

“You’re so good,” he murmured, guiding your movements gently. He thrust into you, his hips meeting yours halfway, stomach muscles flexing.

“Let me,” you said, pushing him backwards into the couch cushions. “You relax, yeah? I’ve got it. I’ve got you.”

He nodded, head tipping back as you bounced on his dick, the rough fabric of the cushion beneath you scratching at your knees. Fumbling slightly, your hands found purchase on his chest and you locked your elbows in an odd sort of imitation of CPR. If CPR was done from the front rather than the side, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly doing any resuscitation.

His chest heaved under your touch, another low groan seeming to echo in the otherwise stillness of the night. The tiny part of your brain that wasn’t totally consumed with the wonderful pleasure-ache of his cock hitting deep inside you and the burn of your thighs was torn between telling him to be quiet and just listening to him, but then he was licking his lips again and his mouth was falling open and you were lost.

“(Y/N),” he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, (Y/N), oh my–”

“Alright?” you asked, biting back a moan as you found a particularly good angle.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s, hm, so good.” He glanced momentarily down at where your body met his, another groan rumbling in his chest.

“Sh–” you whispered, half tempted to press your hand over his mouth. Or maybe your own, given the struggle you were facing to remain quiet yourself.

“Sorry, sorry I–”

You cut him off quickly. “It’s alright Cas, you’re fine. Just, fuck–”

“(Y/N),” he panted, the muscles of his arms and stomach flexing as his fingers gripped the couch cushion, luminescent in the dimness. Again, his eyes flicked downwards, this time to the soft mound of flesh currently on display.

You smiled, reaching down to take his hand, drawing it up to rest over your pelvis. His skin was warmer than you’d ever felt it, faintly clammy and God his hand was big under your own. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d caught yourself picturing his hands in this kind of context, and you didn’t want to try. His fingers splayed over your skin, moving with you, covering the whole space below your naval.

“That’s where you are,” you panted. “That’s where I can feel you, Cas, right there.”

A small, strained noise you could only describe as a whine. “Is it, ah, good? Do you like it? Do you like feeling… me?”

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Yeah, sure do, Cas. Do you like feeling me?”

He smiled, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Of course. I like it immensely.”

You felt yourself clench at his words, and this time you were unable to restrain the downright pornographic moan that tore from your throat. Any other time, you might have been embarrassed, but Cas seemed to like it. Pressing your lips firmly together, you glanced hastily towards the other room, but as far as you could tell there was no disturbance.

“(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, eyes wide and back on your face.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t— I don’t think I can be quiet, (Y/N) I—”

Affection bloomed alongside the desire in your gut, and you had half a mind to tell him it was alright, he didn’t even have to worry about being quiet at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t love the noises he was making. But Dean was only one room over, and you didn’t want to wake him.

“You can, Cas,” you breathed, “you can. You’re doing so well already, we just gotta— fuck.”

He’d bucked his hips up into you, the movement jolting the steady knot of pleasure forming low in your stomach. He was close, you could see it as much as hear it, but the thought of the thin walls and your friend sleeping in the next room over had taken root more firmly in your mind now.

“It’s so much,” Cas gasped. “Oh, oh, (Y/N) it’s so much—”

You managed a smile, slowing down your movements a little. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re ok, yeah?”

He nodded frantically. “Hm, yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Keep going, please—”

Another soft moan slipped from your mouth, Cas’s answering groan enough to make your legs shake. It was too loud, and any other time you’d have soaked up his praises and curses and everything, but not now. After a moment’s hesitation, you clamped your hand firmly over his mouth, sh-ing him gently. If possible, his eyes widened even further and he groaned against your skin.

“Alright?” you breathed.

Another frantic nod, an almost-whimper as your grip firmed up. Well I’ll be damned, you thought vaguely. Who’d have guessed he was into that?

You felt him shiver all over as you continued to rock your hips over his, his hand where it rested on your hip tightening. You wondered if you’d have finger-shaped bruises later. It didn’t matter, you told yourself as he moaned again, his stomach muscles tensing, something that could have been your name squashed under your hand.

“Sh, shh!” you gasped. Between holy shit I’m so close and holy shit he’s so close, the thought that Dean was right there and would hear you was still rooted in your mind. “Cas, sh, Dean’s right– ah, fuck, Dean’s–”

You broke off as Cas’s chest heaved, his hips bucking up into you once more. His mouth had fallen open under your hand and he was gasping something, angel curse-words, maybe? It didn’t matter, not when his eyes were screwed shut and his head was tipped back, your name sprinkled into the litany of foreign words like a prayer.

The sight was enough to make the bomb that had been building in your stomach explode, sparks of pleasure shooting through your aching legs right to your toes and back up again. You might have said Cas’s name, you weren’t sure, but the sentiment was there. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, nothing but the need to be quiet reverberating through your pleasure-blanked mind.

After what felt like an age, your brain managed to find its way back into your skull and the aftershocks of your orgasm faded from your body. Gently, you removed your hand from Cas’s mouth and looked down at him, smiling.

“Alright?” you asked.

His hair was a mess, his brow lightly beaded with sweat, cheeks flushed. There was even a slight red mark where your hand had been, which you stroked gently.

“I’m more than alright,” he smiled, turning to place a tiny kiss on your fingers. “Are you?”

“Good,” you nodded as you slid off him, mourning the sudden emptiness momentarily as you peeled off the condom, tying it in a neat knot to be disposed of later. Then he was lifting his arm, wriggling with you as if he could read your mind, and you were being cocooned against his body.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “if I was too loud.”

“You weren’t,” you assured him quickly. “Not at all. Sorry about… gagging you. I should’ve asked. That’s not what usually happens.”

He hesitated, turning to meet your eyes. “I… didn’t mind.”

“No?”

He shook his head, a small, nervous smile dancing across his lips. “No. In fact, I quite liked it.”

You felt your own smile widen as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. “Good,” you said. “What about the rest? What do you think?”

He sighed, a beautifully satisfied noise that flooded you with warmth. “I think I should not have waited this long.”

You laughed, pressing closer. “Mhm?”

“Mhm. Thank you, (Y/N), truly.”

“Oh,” you said softly, turning away to hide the blood rushing to your face. “That’s ok, Cas. Thank you.”

He gave another little hum, shifting to drape his arm over your waist and pull you into him, fingers skimming your ribs. Getting spooned by a divine warrior of God, you thought with a thrill. Real life really was stranger than fiction.

“You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice seeming to rumble through you in the best way possible. “You should sleep.”

“Hold on,” you protested as you felt his arm withdrawing. You grabbed his hand, pulling it firmly back down to rest on your stomach, wiggling closer. “There was a blanket on the back, grab that. I’m staying here.”

You could almost feel him frowning when he replied. “You’d not rather a bed?”

You only hesitated a moment before bending to kiss his arm. “I’d rather you.”

He didn’t seem to know quite what to say to that, but after a beat something heavy and slightly scratchy was being draped over you, and Cas’s arm was tightening around your waist, and his lips were pressing against your shoulder.

“G’night,” you whispered.

“Good night, (Y/N).”

It was Dean who found his two friends curled together on the couch the next morning. He snorted, taking in the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders in tandem with Cas’s, his hand enveloping your smaller one where it rested just above the blanket, the assortment of what was very clearly Cas’s suit and your own clothes scattered over the floor. Well, he supposed, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had half a mind to throw something at you, the scene was so jarringly… sweet.

“Rise n’ shine lovebirds,” he called instead, “we’ve got shit to do.”

#supernatural #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel x you #supernatural fanfiction #shameless smut #supernatural smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #cas x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert

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octoberclidan · 4 months

Text

You're Not Okay

Request: hiii can u do reader having a bad day and whenever sam and dean asks whats wrong shes just like "oh im fine" but cass notices everything and at the end of the day he just like comforts her and its just a lot of fluff? (reader x cass)

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

It was late at night, and [Y/N] was alone in the motel room. She'd just finished up a hunt with Sam and Dean, and while they'd gone out to a bar to celebrate, [Y/N] had hurt her foot and had hit her head, so she just wanted to rest in peace and try to ignore the pain. She also wanted to forget the image of Dean shouting at her to stop being so clumsy. He had a habit of snapping at her whenever she got injured on a hunt. She knew it was because he cared and was scared to lose her or see her hurt, but his words still stung anyway. She'd been watching TV when she'd fallen asleep on one of the beds that hadn't originally been hers, but after getting hurt, Dean had insisted she take it instead of her usual spot on the couch. Despite being annoyed at her, he still didn't want her to be in any more pain that she already was. She was tossing and turning, and her breathing was erratic.

[Y/N] was thrown against a wall, landing on her hands and knees on the cool concrete of the warehouse. Her ears were ringing and her head hurt, and her vision was blurry as she tried to look around the room for the witch. Someone was shouting at her - Sam? No, it sounded more like Dean. She couldn't make out what they were saying to her, but it sounded important. A dark figure was getting closer to her, and for a moment she thought one of the boys were going to help her up, but the figure was too short to be either of them. The figure mumbled something, and she suddenly felt a searing pain in her foot. She tried to grab it but she was once again thrown back against the wall. She looked up, and the figure was getting closer. She couldn't do anything. She couldn't move, she couldn't scream, she couldn't...

She woke up, sitting straight up in bed trying to catch her breath. There was a 'click' sound to her left and her head shot towards the door, only to find Dean walking into the room, Sam following behind him. "Morning", Dean smiled sheepishly at her as he shrugged off his coat. "How's your foot?"

"Hope we didn't wake you", Sam said as he flicked on the light to see where he was going. It was still dark out, so she figured it must still be very early. "Hey, are you okay?" He squinted at her as his eyes became accustomed to the light.

"Why are you sweating? It's not exactly warm in here", Dean walked over to her and felt her forehead, but she pushed his hand off.

"I'm fine, just tired. What time is it?"

"It's uh, 4:30am", Sam said as he walked over to her bed. "You sure you're okay? I can take a look at your foot, make sure it's not showing signs of infection", he said as he began to lift her covers up. She groaned and grabbed them back from him.

"I said I'm fine, I'm just tired, and it's still early so if it's okay with both of you, I'd like to get back to sleep. Okay?"

"Okay". Sam held up his hands in defence and stepped away from the bed, sharing a look of concern with his brother. "We're sorry for waking you". They decided not to push it and just get some sleep themselves. She felt a little bit bad for snapping at them, but the ache in her foot and head were getting to her. She decided she'd apologise in the morning, and closed her eyes to try and sleep as she heard Sam and Dean settle down.

Sam was already asleep in his bed and Dean was getting close to falling asleep on the couch when the door opened again. [Y/N] turned her head and felt a little rush of joy as Cas walked into the room. His eyes glanced over Sam and Dean briefly, but he focused on [Y/N]. She always felt her mood lift whenever Cas was around, there was just something about him that she found calming. He hadn't been around much lately, being busy with other things, but that just made it even more special when he was there.

"Dean told me you got hurt", he said as he walked over to the bed, concern filling his eyes.

"Apparently she's fine", Dean mumbled from the couch, not bothering to open his eyes while [Y/N] rolled hers.

"I am fine, just have a sore foot. Normal hunting injury", she shrugged but Cas' concern didn't lift. She didn't protest as he raised his hand to press his fingers to her forehead, and she relaxed as she felt warmth flow through her.

"You had a fracture in your foot, and you also had a slight concussion. That is not fine", he said as he sat down on the edge of her bed, his eyes boring into hers.

"Oh", she said, feeling a bit nervous under his gaze. "Thank you".

"You're welcome. You should sleep, I'll wait for the three of you to wake up later".

"Are you going to stay here?" She asked, hopeful that he'd stay, since she always slept better when he was in the room, though she'd never admitted that to anyone. She could imagine the teasing if Dean found out, or even Sam.

"No, I have to..." He paused when he saw her face drop, recognising her disappointment, something that he didn't like seeing. He pretended to clear his throat, a time-filler he'd picked up from Sam over the years. "I mean, yes. I'll stay until you wake up, I can do what I need to from here".

"I'll see you in the morning then", she smiled at he gave her a small smile back.

"Sleep well, [Y/N]".

***

After a couple of hours of sleep, the morning sun started to break through the motel's thin and moth-eaten curtains, stirring her. [Y/N] blinked her eyes open to find Sam stretching in his bed, and Dean already sitting up on the couch with a mug of coffee in his hands. Cas was sitting at the table, an old book laid out in front of him, but he was watching [Y/N]. He quickly averted his gaze when she looked at him, so to her, it looked like he was engrossed in his book. "Morning", she said to the room.

"Hey", Sam said as he stood up from his bed, heading to the bathroom. "Guess we're heading out back to the bunker as soon as possible? Unless we need to stop anywhere on the way back".

"As soon as the two of you are up and ready", Dean nodded at him. Sam nodded back before closing the bathroom door behind him. [Y/N] stretched, glad that the pain in her foot and head was gone. She pushed her covers back and got out of the bed to walk over to the counter beside Dean and Cas, which had a small coffee machine on it. She poured herself a cup and was about to sit down beside Dean, but he readjusted his legs at just the wrong moment and she ended up tripping over them, spilling the coffee on him in the process and catching herself on the couch.

"That fucking burns!" Dean stood straight up off the couch and pulled his now wet t-shirt away from his body and shaking it up and down to fan himself. "

"I am so sorry, I tripped when you moved your legs", [Y/N] said as she stood up, grimacing at Dean's glare.

"Dean, I can heal that", Cas said as he stood up from his seat, walking over to Dean with his hand out and ready.

"Yeah? Can you clean my shirt too?" He asked sarcastically. "This was my last one, I'm gonna have to drive while soaked and smelling of coffee. I'm going to stink up Baby now", he sighed as Cas healed the very small burn on his chest, something that probably would've healed on its own within a day or two.

"Maybe you can borrow one of Sam's?" [Y/N] suggested, but she was only met with another of Dean's glares.

"Maybe you can watch where you're going?" Dean mimicked her voice, mocking her.

"Dean, it was just an accident", Cas spoke up for her, but Dean just waved him off and left the room. "Are you alright?" Cas asked, turning to [Y/N]. She swallowed back a lump in her throat, she hated when someone she cared about was mad at her, but she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine".

"No, you're not, you-"

"Hey, Dean already out at the car?" Cas was cut off by Sam coming out of the bathroom. "What's wrong?" He frowned at Cas' concerned expression and [Y/N]'s attempt to sniff and clear her throat quietly.

"Nothing", [Y/N] spoke quickly before Cas did. "I uh, I spilled coffee on Dean's shirt, do you have any spare ones?" She asked and Sam went to his bag to rummage through it, pulling out a clean t-shirt and smiling at her, earning a relieved smile back from her. "Thanks", she breathed out, grabbing her bag and stepping into the bathroom to get ready quickly herself, not wanting the rest of them to be waiting too long for her. She took a deep breath and shook herself off, looking into the bathroom mirror. "Bad start doesn't mean you write it off as a bad day", she said to herself.

***

It was mid afternoon when they stopped at a gas station for Dean to fill up the car. "You want anything? I'm just gonna go in and find a snack or something", [Y/N] asked Sam and Cas while Dean was just about to turn off the engine. She was sitting in the back beside Cas, and the journey had been pretty quiet, all of them tired from the hunt and lack of sleep, well, except Cas. She didn't really want a snack, she just wanted a chance to be alone with Dean to apologise to him properly. When Sam and Cas both declined her offer, and Dean was closing his door behind him to head into the store, [Y/N] opened her door to follow behind him.

Dean pushed the door to the store open and stepped aside for her, ushering her in. She was in the middle of saying thank you, when she tripped over the small step in the doorway. She was about to brace herself for the fall when a strong arm hooked around her waist and pulled her back, steadying her. She turned around and looked up at Dean, finishing her 'thank you', but now meant for a different reason, and now with much more embarrassment. She mentally scolded herself for not watching where she was going, again, and especially in front of Dean. She expected another snarky comment from him, but looked up at him in confusion when he chuckled to himself as he let go of her. "You're okay. I'm uh, sorry for snapping at you during the hunt and also this morning. You know how I get when someone I care about gets hurt and I'm running on no sleep".

"It's fine, I deserved it. I do need to watch where I'm going. I wanted to say sorry for spilling my coffee on you earlier actually".

"Don't worry about it, forgiven and forgotton", he smiled down at her, and she smiled back, though it wasn't a smile that reached her eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine", she nodded. "I'll meet you back out at the car, I'm just gonna grab a snack". She parted ways with Dean and found a packet of her favourite snack, hoping that it would brighten up her day a little bit. She was feeling a bit useless, or more like a hindrance than a help to the team at the moment. It was really getting her down. She planned to spend a solid chunk of each day training until the next hunt. Maybe she could improve her balance, or her spatial awareness.

***

"Are you serious?" [Y/N] groaned, throwing head back in the car.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked from his place in the front, and Cas turned to look at her too.

"Look!" She showed both of them the packet she'd opened, the one she'd bought at the gas station. "These are supposed to be dry, not a... wet, soggy... whatever this is!"

"Is that mould?" Sam asked, crinkling his nose as he looked into the bag.

"I dont want to know what it is", she shook her head as she closed the bag.

"Don't even think about putting that down anywhere in Baby, put it in your bag", Dean warned her, catching her eyes in the rearview mirror. "We'll be back in an hour or so".

"I don't want this is my bag", she complained.

"Well it's not touching my car", Dean replied.

"I'll take it", Cas reached over and took the packet from her, holding it in his lap. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Not after smelling that... you don't have to hold it for me, Cas".

"It doesn't bother me".

"Well... thank you", she smiled at him, and he smiled back. He knew she wasn't having the best day, so anything he could do to make it better, he would do.

***

[Y/N] unpacked her bag when she got back to the bunker, and took a moment to sit on her bed. It was the evening at this stage, and although the day hadn't been the worst she'd ever had, it hadn't exactly been the best either. She was trying not to let the little things get to her, but she was finding it difficult. Cas was out in the library, researching something to do with a long-lost tablet that could be helpful with supplying energy to heaven. She had told him that she'd help once she'd unpacked, so once she had pushed her negative thoughts to the back of her mind, she stood up and made her way to the library.

She found him sitting at the desk, a pile of books in front of him, and pieces of paper scattered around the table. He looked focused, eyebrows furrowed as he read from a very old, very dusty looking piece of parchment. She stood in the doorway for just a minute, enjoying his calming presence, until he looked up at her, his concentration breaking. "Hello [Y/N], do you still have time to help?" He asked, and she nodded, stepping into the room.

"Of course, I'm free for the rest of the evening", she said as she walked over to him. Unfortunately, she brushed against a loose piece of paper that was hanging over the edge of the table as she went to pull out a chair. It caught against her hip and was pulled out, along with about thirty other pieces of loose paper that were lying on top of it. They all scattered across the library's floor, flying in all directions and spreading their dust as they settled. She stood there, looking at them, and sighed. No matter what she did, something had to go wrong. "I don't even know why I try. I don't know why you wanted my help, I'm the definition of unhelpfullness. No, it's more than that. I make everything worse", she said, gesturing to the fall paper. At her words, Cas stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her arms and looking down at her.

"That's not true", he said, and she chuckled, blinking back tears as she did. "You're not okay, you need to talk. You can talk to me, [Y/N]". He hated seeing her upset, especially at herself. "Will you sit with me?" He asked, letting go of one of her arms so he could tilt her chin up to look at him. He wiped away a stray tear that escaped. "Please".

"You're too busy for this", she shook her head, but he grabbed her hand and led her to a chair at the table. He took another chair and pulled it in front of her, sitting down so his knees touched hers.

"I'm never too busy for you. You will tell me what's wrong, I'll listen, and then if you want I can offer my advice. If you don't want advice, then we can just sit together". She looked up at him and took a shaky breath, but smiled at his offer.

"There isn't really much to advise on. I'm clumsy, I don't look where I'm going, and that just makes everything harder for the people I'm just trying to help", she shrugged, and looked down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers.

"Hey", Cas took her hands in his. His hands were warm and secure, and she instantly found comfort in them. "Everyone messes up sometimes. You, me, Sam, Dean... we all have our strengths and our weaknesses. You are a little bit clumsy, but you're also one of the most intelligent hunters I've ever met. Your plans succeed more than anyone else's. I also... uh", he looked away in embarrassment, and she furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"You also what?"

"I like that you're a little bit clumsy. It... amuses me. Or maybe amuses isn't the right word", he shook his head. "I find it... endearing. It's you, and I like you".

"Endearing?" She asked, her confusion now falling away and a smile pulling at her lips.

"Yes. I don't like it when you get hurt, of course, but if you had absolutely no faults then you wouldn't be you". He looked a little bit bashful as he spoke to her, now avoiding eye contact.

"Thank you, Cas", she squeezed his hands. "I've had a bad day but I don't feel so bad now". She smiled and he smiled back at her, glad she didn't look sad anymore.

"Come here", he said as he stood up, pulling her up and into a hug. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against his chest. His arms held her close, and he stroked her back comfortingly. After a couple of minutes, he leaned back and she looked up at him. "Why don't we pick the papers off the floor, and then you can help me with my research?" He asked and she nodded. She was thankful for the nice end to her bad day, and to Cas for making her feel better about herself.

The end

Castiel Taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx

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zepskies · 2 months

Text

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you.

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor.

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you.

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car.

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters.

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed.

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down.

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety.

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it.

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side.

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can.

He disappears before you can spit at him.

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it.

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel.

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary.

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down.

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says.

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash.

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel.

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery.

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves.

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously.

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow.

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window.

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown.

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker.

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head.

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify.

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

“Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state.

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing.

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes.

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer.

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile.

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it.

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face.

“Are you angry?” he asks.

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him.

“No. Why?”

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh.

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence.

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you.

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there.

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself.

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency.

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes.

“Cas,” you breathe in content.

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage.

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free.

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks.

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

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