if there’s one thing soldier boy’s remembered from his military training at vought, it’s his knotting abilities.
getting his pretty little baby all vulnerable on the motel mattress when butcher and the rest of the boys go is always a fun way to spend the day with you.
ben ties your legs apart and your arms behind your back, rendering you naked and entirely incapacitated, just sitting all pretty and bare for him against the sheets. it’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure.
and when he takes his time slowly undressing himself in front of you, letting his rock hard cock bounce against the flurry of hairs leading up his lower belly, you can’t help the whines and soft pleas from leaving your lips.
but ben’s mean, letting you work yourself up as he slowly tugs at his cock, just watching you struggle against the ropes, your pussy drooling from the lack of stimulation.
“oh, my poor little rope slut. whinin’ already? you’re so dumb for me, aren’t you, bunny? beggin’ all stupid like that.”
perhaps you should’ve learned by now, but no, your silly little brain shuts off the moment ben pulls out the rope. you let him tie you up without a word of complaint because you know ben’s gonna stretch out your fluttering little cunt with his thick fingers, working you open to eventually take his leaking girthy cock, fucking you stupid until he spills into you… just to leave you on the bed, full and bred and pleading for more.
“such a greedy little thing, aren’t you? i swear, baby, i’ve gotta be the luckiest man alive. got the prettiest pussy right in front of me, attached to the most pathetic little cockslut i’ve ever seen, still begging for more even after you’ve been stuffed full. fuckin’ spoiled, i am.”
he blabs on, sliding his fingers through your folds again, brushing past your overstimulated clit, and plunging back inside you, just to plug his cum from spilling out too much.
You know what really bothers me about supernatural? The fact that it had so much damn potential that was completely wasted in favor of a more digestible "macho man saves the day and gets the girl" formula that they reused over and over again.
The only relationship in the show that's somehow fleshed out is the brotherhood of Sam and Dean, and even they had to go through an insane amount of reused plots.
If a character ever sees a glimpse of development or exploration, it's immediately shut down in the next episode because the writers were too afraid to explore any interesting or complex ideas.
Castiel as god? Is this the time to explore Castiel's destructive sense of self righteousness and the fact that he was a morally grey character from the beginning? Oh wait, scratch that, let's just "kill" him in the same episode and let's bring him back later with the power of the script.
Sam's addiction and his obsession with feeling clean? Okey, so let's never mention that again after season 5, it's not relevant to his character anyway, right?
Sam's time in the cage? Okey, so let's make it clear that Lucifer tortured and abused him in EVERY way possible and we are going to explore that for a couple of episodes and then forget about it when we bring Lucifer back later on.
Demon dean? The perfect way to explore Dean's aggressive tendencies, insecurities and trauma that could've given enough material for a whole season is wasted again and instead we get whatever that season was (I don't even remember).
And well, let's not even talk about the shallowness and misogyny that seeped into the writing of every single woman of the show.
And I think that anyone who loves the show agrees that it could've been so much more. But anyway, it's not a supernatural exclusive crime, if I had a nickel for every time a tv show or movie gets the opportunity to explore a new, interesting and complex idea and they decide to play it safe, I would be Elon musk by now.
Summary: Dean and Sam try to call Castiel to come to them but with no result. However, when you call for him, he arrives right away. Although not in his best senses.
☆☆
"Castiel you son of a bitch, drag your angel ass here right now," Dean shouted, growing annoyed how the angel ignored him. Sam had tried calling him too, several times, but getting no contact.
You walked into the room, taking a sip from your tea. Dean and Sam were staying the night at your house, leaving tomorrow for their next hunt nearby.
"What's got you two so grumpy?"
"We've tried to reach Castiel but he's completely ghosted us just when we need him," Dean complained, then looking up at the ceiling and raising his voice, "Castiel, come here this instant!"
"You're being too threatening and needy," you commented and rolled your eyes. "Why do you need him now anyway?"
"For the case we're working on," Sam replied, going through a few papers at the desk he was sitting at.
"Well, you need to be less aggressive. He doesn't like being commanded like that," you continued, taking another sip of your tea which was starting to cool down.
"Why don't you try using that pretty face and voice of yours to call him then?" Dean asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice, and crossed his arms against his chest. He sounded like there was no way you'd succeed if they hadn't after several tries.
"And why should i bother?" you asked.
"Because we're your brothers and you love us more than anything," Dean tried to sweeten you up, smiling and batting his eyes.
"You wish." You just rolled your eyes, loving to act all hard to get to him.
Truthfully, though you'd never admit it to either of your brothers, you liked to have Castiel come over. Every time he looked at you and said anything at all to you, your heart skipped a beat and chest felt all warm, butterflies spawning inside your stomach. You had been trying to ignore these feelings and sensations he kept causing to you, knowing he'd never answer to your feelings in the same way. What kind of feelings even were they really?
Castiel was simply just nice to look at too.
"Say 'please'," you teased.
"Are you serious?" Dean scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "Just call that damn –"
"Y/N, please just call him, we really need his help," Sam intervened, growing tired of you and Dean constantly arguing.
"See, at least one of my brothers is able to be polite," you said to Dean, pointing at Sam. "Would want to take an example of him if i were you."
Dean gave you one last annoyed look before giving in and let out a sigh. "Please." It made you chuckle.
"Castiel, sweetie. Come over here, these two bastards miss you," you said with a loud and clear, but also sweet, voice.
It took barely a second for Castiel to appear behind Sam, the sound of the flutter of wings echoing in the room. Dean's eyes widened as he looked over Sam's shoulder to the angel in a trench coat, staring at you and Dean.
"He's behind me, isn't he?" Sam asked.
"Hello," Castiel greeted, his voice sounding a little funny.
"Hello? Hello?!" Dean yelled and stood up, pointing his finger at the angel. "We've been trying to call you for weeks but with no use. And now you appear instantly when she calls you?"
"Yes," was all Castiel responded.
Dean stared at Castiel for a moment, a flame of anger in his eyes. "And why is that?"
"Y/N and i share a deeper bond than i do with either of you," Castiel explained calmly.
He looked tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and had to lean against the back of Sam's chair to keep himself balanced.
"A deeper bond? So you like her better than us?" Dean asked.
"I do, yes," Castiel slurred.
"Hold on... Cas, are you drunk?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in shock, walking closer to Castiel.
"I might be a little tipsy," he mumbled and took a few unsteady steps forward, falling into Dean's arms right then.
"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, helping Castiel to stand on his own.
"I had a rough day so i drank a liquor store," he explained, voice all raspy, trying to act sober but was far from it.
"I didn't even know angels could get drunk," Sam commented.
"I am in a vessel of a human and as i said, i drank the store," Castiel stated, sounding grumpy and exhausted.
Castiel turned towards you, a weak smile rising on his lips.
"Y/N, hi," Castiel mumbled and smiled, pushing Dean away and stumbling towards you.
"Um, hello Cas." You were just as confused as your brothers, having Cas fell into your arms now, his body almost limp. For fuck's sake, this man couldn't even stand up on his own. You almost fell down on the floor from the weight of this grown ass man on you but managed to keep yourself balanced.
"You have really pretty eyes," Castiel said as he was looking deep into your eyes with his blue ones, his words and intense gaze making you blush. There was only small gap between your faces, so you could inhale the strong smell of beer and liquor in his breath.
"Thank... you?" You were unsure what to respond, since he had never commented on your looks before, and it was all so unexpected.
"You have freckles too," he said in awe, his gaze wandering all around your face, eyebrows furrowed as he examined your features now closer than before. "They're cute."
"Come on, Cas, let's sit you down." You patted his back a few times and dragged him to sit on the couch where he let the gravity to pull himself down.
Castiel would come to you every single time you'd call him, unless he was fighting for his life at that exact moment. Even then, he'd arrive to you as soon as possible. He'd hear every prayer of yours calling for him and arrive to you without a hesitation. Tonight was no different, though this time he was absolutely wasted, barely able to do anything on his own.
Castiel couldn't explain it yet, but he found your company highly pleasant and had a strange bond with you that was stronger compared to any other human being.
Sam and Dean exchanged concerned and confused glances across the room, not having expected anything like this to happen.
"So, what did you want?" Castiel asked, looking towards Dean and Sam while you sat down next to him. The couch was made to comfortably fit two people.
"I think we need you sober for it," Sam said, his face looking both concerned and amused now.
"So next time when we call you, you drag your ass here," Dean commanded.
"I am not a dog, Dean. My life doesn't revolve around you," Castiel pointed out, growing annoyed of Dean's behavior.
"But you're my little puppy," you snickered and patted Castiel's head.
Castiel turned his head towards you, a slightly embarrassed blush spreading on his cheeks.
"My vessel is a human, not a puppy, Y/N," Castiel corrected you.
"Remind me to teach you not to take everything so literally," you chuckled, ruffling his hair to even a bigger of a mess. Castiel just stared at you for a moment. "What?"
"Have i told you that you smell kind of nice," Castiel mumbled.
"I do?" You hadn't showered in two days so you must have smelled anything but nice.
"Mhm," Castiel mumbled.
"When i was younger and imagined what angels would be like if they existed, it wasn't even close to this," Sam muttered, gathering papers back into their folder.
Then, Castiel's head dropped against your shoulder.
"Cas?" you said, but the angel didn't react in any way. He was leaning against your body with all his weight now, pressing you deeper against the cushions. His head had moved down on your chest, his ear listening to your steady heart beat in his sleep.
"Did he just pass out?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.
"Cas," you repeated and gently shook him by his shoulder, but he was lying there like a lifeless corpse, only him breathing showing that he was alive. You turned back to Dean. "Yeah, he's out."
☆☆
That night, probably for the first time in his long life, Castiel dreamed in his sleep. Being an angel, he didn't need to sleep, which resulted for him not to experience dreaming like humans.
It was a dream about you.
You stood in front of him, looked into his eyes and grabbed his face into your hands.
"Cas," you whispered.
Castiel moved his face just a little forward to press his lips on yours, backing you against the wall.
When Castiel woke up from this dream of kissing and holding you, alone on the couch with a blanket pulled over on him, his heart was beating faster and all he wanted to do was to see you again. But it was dark, the lights were out, and you didn't want to be bothered when you were sleeping.
He hadn't felt like this about any other human, so the feeling was all confusing and new to him – he wasn't sure what to do with that.
☆☆
"You okay, Cas?" Dean asked in the morning, narrowing his eyes as Castiel slowly walked into the kitchen where Dean was sitting, drinking his morning coffee.
"My head hurts, body is trembling and i feel a little sick," Castiel described as he sat down on a chair, even the light through the window blinding him a little.
"And that's what a hangover feels like," Dean smirked but soon turned more serious. "But seriously, Cas. Why answer Y/N's calls and not ours?"
"I'm rather... fond of her," Castiel answered. "I can't explain it properly."
"Fond of her?" Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows.
Right then, you walked into the kitchen, looking at the two guys having a chat at the table. Castiel instantly ignored Dean when your presence was added to their company.
"G'morning, guys," you greeted and smiled, looking at Castiel. "Are you feeling alright? You look quite pale. Do you want something to eat?"
"I'll survive, but thank you," Castiel replied and gave you an awkward smile.
"Alright. Well, let me know if there's any way i can help you with," you said and patted Castiel's shoulder. "I know hangovers suck."
"I'll be fine," Castiel promised. When you lifted your hand away from his shoulder, Castiel instantly missed your touch and would have wanted to keep your hand there longer, the ghost of your fingers lingering there.
You were about to exit the room but Castiel cleared his throat and got himself to speak up.
"Y/N."
"Hm?"
"I... i deeply apologize my behavior yesterday," Castiel said, feeling embarrassed.
"It's alright, Cas. Don't worry about it," you smiled.
"Hey, why didn't you apologize to me?" Dean asked, sounding all offended.
"This isn't your house," Cas pointed out. "And she was the one to call me."
You left the guys alone and now stood in front of a mirror, which Castiel and Dean had a direct view from the kitchen, and pulled your hair in a ponytail, adding hair spray to keep the strands from falling out. You were about to go to your morning run.
Castiel kept his eyes on you, watching every single movement your body made. Dean said something to him which Castiel just ignored.
Castiel thought back to his dream he experienced. It felt strange, having this image of you kissing him in his head but none of it was actually real. Did he want it to be real? To really kiss you? Could he do that? Would you want to?
"Oh my god," Dean gasped, making Castiel to finally turn towards him. "You have hots for my sister."
"What does hots mean?" Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.
"You like her."
"Well yes, her company is quite pleasant."
"No, i mean, you like like her. In a different way than me and Sam," Dean specified.
"Well, i suppose. She's always kind to me and i like to have her around," Castiel said, tilting his head and looking past Dean to the wall. "I suppose i care for her more than other people. No offense to you, Dean."
Dean could only look at the angel across the table, completely dumbfounded. He was struggling to comprehend the idea of his friend liking his sister and also admitting it to his face. Though Castiel wasn't like any other people in Dean's life – first of all being an angel but he was much more direct and forward than most humans.
Sam walked into the kitchen too.
"Feeling alright, Cas?" Sam asked and was able to see that Cas didn't feel very good. "If you feel like vomiting, go to the bathroom. Y/N gets pissed if someone spills anything on the floor."
"I'm fine," Castiel mumbled.
"Uh-huh," Sam muttered, not believing him at all.
"Did Y/N leave outside?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, just a moment ago," Sam confirmed. "Why?"
"I heard why Cas answers only Y/N's calls these days," Dean said, making Sam to raise his eyebrows. "He has a little crush on her."
Sam turned towards Castiel who was avoiding both of their gazes on him.
"That explains so much," Sam said.
"What do you mean?" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows.
"Well, the way you always say 'yes' to everything she suggests," Sam said. "Or stare at her a little too long. Or always ask where you are whenever you come to us and she's not present. Should i continue listing all the small things i've noticed?"
"No, that's enough," Castiel said, feeling too ill to keep himself focused on talking about his feelings on you to your brothers.
"You know. I know i took you to a brothel a while ago and tried to get you laid," Dean said, sounding a little more awkward now. "And we still have the mission going on to lose your virginity." Dean leaned closer to Castiel. "But i'm not gonna help you to bang my sister."
"Bang?" Castiel narrowed his eyes, while Dean rolled his.
"Sex, Cas. Sex."
"I'm not going to be a part of this conversation," Sam mumbled and shook his head, leaving the kitchen to let his brother and the angel continue their conversation alone.
"While i do find her physically very attractive, i didn't imagine to execute that act with her," Castiel said. It was a partial lie, even though the image of you and him being intimate together had appeared in his dream which he wasn't able to control by his own will.
"Forgot my wallet," you said and rushed to the kitchen, your wallet on top of the drawer. You stopped and looked at Dean and Castiel who had both fallen silent, looking slightly startled. "Did i interrupt something?"
"Oh, no, nothing. Nothing at all," Dean insisted with that smile that made you question his words but you didn't care to start interrogating him.
"Alright," you said slowly.
When you had left again and Dean was about to turn back to Castiel, he was already gone, leaving Dean by himself.
Warnings: None, just a silly late-night thought I had!
Prompt: Dean becoming a catboy due to a run in with a witch.
An: Hope you enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
Word count: 1.5K
Dean Winchester had been a hunter long enough to expect the unexpected.
He'd been turned into a teenager. He'd been possessed. He'd been to Hell and back. So when the witch's spell hit him square in the chest and nothing happened, he shrugged it off and kept fighting. The witch had gone down easily after that, and Dean had assumed that was the end of it. You three assumed that any spells had fizzled out, rendering Dean as fine.
He went to bed that night in the motel room; you and Dean on one bed, Sam on the other. He'd fallen asleep without issue, dreaming of nothing in particular.
Then he woke up with a pounding headache and something very wrong with his lower back.
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
The first thing he noticed was the pressure. Like something was pressing against the base of his spine. He'd tossed and turned, reaching up to rub at his aching spots…
And his fingers brushed against something soft.
Dean froze.
Slowly, very slowly, he reached up again. His fingers found a pair of triangular shapes sitting on top of his head. They twitched when he touched them. They were attached.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over his own feet, and launched himself into the motel bathroom. The fluorescent light flickered on, illuminating the mirror and the reflection staring back at him.
Brown-patched tabby cat ears. Set right where they should be, blending into his hair like they'd always been there. And when he turned, he caught a glimpse of a matching tail poking out from the waistband of his boxers.
"No," Dean whispered. "No, no, no-"
A low sound rumbled from his chest.
He was purring.
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
You woke up to someone roughly shaking your shoulder.
"Hey. Hey. Wake up."
You groaned, swatting blindly at the offending hand. "Dean, it's like three in the morning…"
"I need you to wake up and look at me."
"Dean…"
"Please."
You blinked your eyes open, squinting in the dim light, before you sat up in shock.
"Dean. Your head."
"I know." He was kneeling by the bed, his eyes wide with horror and desperation. "I know. The witch. The spell. It…" He gestured at himself. "This happened."
You stared. The ears were soft-looking, brown with darker patches, twitching nervously as Dean watched you watch them. And the tail. The tail was *moving*, curling and uncurling behind him like it had a mind of its own.
"Dean," you said slowly. "You're a cat."
"I'm not a cat. I'm a…" He made a frustrated noise. "I'm a guy with cat parts. There's a difference."
"Is there, though?"
The ears flattened against his skull. The purring grew louder.
"Shut up," he muttered. "This is not funny."
"I'm not laughing."
"You're thinking about laughing."
He wasn't wrong. But you bit your lip and pushed yourself up, reaching out to, carefully, because you'd seen his claws, touch his face.
"I'm not laughing," you said. "I promise. We're gonna figure this out."
Dean leaned into your palm without meaning to, his eyes fluttering half-shut. The purring only intensified.
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
The next morning was a disaster.
Dean had refused to leave the motel room, which meant Sam was out doing research on his own while you stayed behind to keep Dean from completely losing his mind.
"I hate this," Dean announced from the bed, where he was sprawled out. "I hate everything about this. I hate the ears. I hate the tail. I hate the…" He gestured vaguely at his own chest. "The noises. The *sounds*."
"The purring?"
"Yes! The purring! It won't stop!"
You looked up from your phone, where you'd been pulling up every article you could find about cats. "Are you stressed right now?"
"*Yes*, I'm stressed! Obviously!"
"Then that's why you're purring." You set your phone down while turning to face him. "Dean, cats don't only purr when they're happy. They purr when they're scared, too. It's self-soothing. Like a comfort mechanism."
Dean stared at you. "What?"
"You purr when you're safe. When you feel secure. Or when you're freaking out and need to calm down." You shrugged. "Right now, you're probably both."
"I am not..." He stopped. His ears perked forward. "Wait. How do you know all this?"
"I did a lot of reading. Cats are misunderstood, Dean. People think they're aloof, but really…"
"Of course you did," he muttered. "Of course, you know about cat psychology."
"It's not psychology, it's…"
"I don't care what it is. Just…" He waved a hand. "Just need this fixed."
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
Sam came back three hours later with a stack of books and some takeout, since nobody wanted to see a hangry cat Dean with his temper.
"Nothing yet," he reported, dropping the pile on the table. "The witch is dead, so we can't get answers from her. I've got some leads on reversal spells, but.."
"But what?"
Sam glanced at Dean, then quickly looked away. His shoulders were shaking.
"Sam," Dean said flatly. "Are you laughing?"
"No."
"You're *totally* laughing."
"I'm not. I'm just-" Sam cleared his throat. "You look...interesting."
"I get it, I look like a damn cat."
"A very.." Sam coughed. "A very fluffy cat."
Dean threw a pillow at him. Sam caught it, and Dean made a sound that was suspiciously close to a growl.
The ears flattened again.
"Okay," you said quickly, stepping between them. "Let's focus. What do we know about the spell?"
Sam pulled himself together, grabbing one of the books. "It's old. The witch's grimoire mentioned something about 'animal traits as punishment.' But it didn't specify which animal or how to reverse it."
"Great." Dean flopped back onto the bed, tail flicking irritably. "So I'm stuck like this forever."
"No one's stuck like anything forever," you said. "We'll figure it out."
The ears perked up. The tail curled slightly.
Dean hated how much his body responded to you.
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
The research continued for hours.
Sam buried himself in books. You bounced between helping him and checking on Dean, who was growing increasingly restless. The motel room was too small. The walls were too close. He'd paced the same five feet of floor so many times that he'd worn a path in the carpet.
"Dean," you said gently, "you need to sit down."
"I can't sit down. I'm twitchy."
"Then let's do something else."
"Like what?"
You thought for a moment. "Do you want to play?"
Dean stared at you. "Did you just ask me if I want to play?"
"I mean-" You held up a pen that had been sitting on the table. "You could chase this?"
"I'm not a cat."
"You have cat instincts, Dean. That means you probably-"
"I am not chasing a pen."
Ten minutes later, he was chasing the pen.
You'd flicked it across the floor without thinking, and Dean's body had moved before his brain could catch up. He'd launched himself after it, snatching it up with a triumphant noise.
And then he'd realized what he'd just done.
His face went red. The ears flattened. The tail curled around his leg like it was trying to hide.
"Don't," he said, pointing at you. "Don't say anything."
"I wasn't going to."
"You were thinking about saying something."
"I was thinking you looked cute."
"Don't."
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
Dean was sprawled on the bed again, head in your lap because you'd insisted it would help him relax. He'd protested very loudly, of course. But you'd scratched behind his ears exactly once and he'd gone completely boneless.
Light, careful strokes along the base of his ears, the spot where they met his skull. Dean had started purring so loudly you could feel it through your thighs.
"Dean," you'd said softly, "you're making biscuits."
"I'm doing what?"
"You're kneading. With your hands."
He looked down. His fingers were flexing against the motel blanket, opening and closing in a rhythmic pattern that was unmistakably kneading.
"Oh my God," he breathed. "Make it stop."
"I don't think I can."
"Please."
But he didn't pull away. And when you kept petting, he kept purring.
✧ ^. .^₎⟆
Eventually, the reversal spell worked.
Sam found it in the back of some obscure grimoire, and after a few hours of prep work and a lot of chanting, Dean was back to normal. No ears. No tail. No uncontrollable purring.
He'd never been happier to be completely human once again.
"Never again," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm never hunting a witch again."
"You say that every time."
"This time I mean it."
You laughed, reaching up to touch his face. He leaned into your palm automatically and then caught himself, pulling back as his cheeks warmed up slightly.
"...Sorry," he muttered. "Reflex."
"It's okay." You smiled at him. "I kind of miss the ears."
"Don't even joke about that."
"I'm not joking. You were adorable."
"Adorable?"
"Absolutely adorable."
Dean groaned out at your insistence with a smile on his face. And when you scratched lightly at his scalp, he didn't pull away ⋆˙⟡♡
your fics are AMAZING ?? actual perfection. and you write for supernatural ??? I literally check your account on a DAILY basis- and if I ever see a castiel fic on here I'm gonna scream !! pls pls pls keep doing what you're doing you LEGEND
THEME: cas really wants to please you.
CHARACTER: male reader x castiel
NOTE: literally just cas choking on your dick..
p.s. this might be my best writing yet wtf.
WARNING: choking,, eye contact,, pet names,, gagging,, blowjob,, face fucking,, pwp,, big dick!reader,, praise kink,, light dirty talk,, light corruption kink,, very light cock worship,, cas swallows.
you let out a soft hum, leaning back on your palms. castiel was on his knees, between your legs, resting his cheek on your inner thigh, looking up at you expectantly, with such cute and pleading eyes. you brought your hand up to his hair, gently carding your fingers through the dark brown locks. “whatcha lookin' at me like that for?” you asked gently, smiling down at the other. he leaned his head into your touch, like a needy cat. castiel didn't say anything as his hands leisurely moved to your crotch. you raised your eyebrows at his actions, although you let him continue.
his hands slowly fiddled with the belt, unbuckling it, all the while, he kept his eyes locked on yours. “what, you want my cock, baby?” you mumbled as castiel unbuttoned your pants and pulled the zipper down. he caught a glimpse of your clothed cock as he shifted his gaze, a small wanton groan slipping past his lips. with no second thought, castiel mouthed at your length through the fabric, his eyes closing in bliss. “oh, damn.” you breathed. where did he learn that?
“cas, come on, don't make me wait..” your voice was a bit needy, breathless. castiel shifted and sat on his heels. his teeth bit on the waistband of your boxers, pulling it down with the assistance of his hand. your mouth gaped at the sight, your palm pressing to the back of the angel's head just slightly. after freeing your length, castiel took a hold of it, giving a few slow yet firm pumps. you adjusted your position to make it more comfortable for the man in front of you.
“i'll.. make you feel good.” castiel said softly, carefully, as if he was hesitant to even speak up. “yeah, you will, you always do.” you reassured him and praised him in a single sentence, pupils blown wide with pure love and lust as the angel's tongue licked a stripe from your base to the tip, your cock hardening even more. he then kitten-licked the head once or twice, before finally wrapping his lips around the end of your cock. “ah-huh, so pretty..” you whispered, watching his every move intently.
castiel bobbed his head up and down, only sucking like an inch of your dick, looking up at you again. teasing. his actions made you grin, your breath starting to get heavy. “such a good boy, so good.” your fingers massaged his scalp gently, seemingly encouraging him. castiel was blinking slowly, his hands resting on your thighs to give him proper leverage. he let out a small hum of content, slowly but surely, with each motion of his head, he took more of you. you could feel your tip pressing to the back of his tongue at this point. “can't believe I got-” you started but paused, due to your breath stuttering, relishing in the sensation. “i got an angel of the lord sucking my dick.. the most perfect one of all, too.” you spoke lowly, watching castiel's eyebrows furrowing barely and eyes narrowing, continuing his slow ministrations. “you stay because of me, but it's my cock that makes you want to stay, isn't it?” you asked rhetorically, pushing on the back of castiel's head, making him take you deeper in his throat.
castiel's tongue pressed up, more firmly to the underside of your cock as his throat closed up, his abdomen tensing. he held himself back, not gagging. yet. your other hand moved to the side of the angel's face, thumb softly caressing his cheek. his eyes closed and he braced himself, shoving himself down as far as he could, gagging almost immediately, but holding the position. his eagerness made a flicker of surprise flash across your face, a light groan ripping itself out of your throat. “fucking hell..” you uttered, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling his head back to ease his throat. as if on instinct, castiel made a miniscule sound of disapproval, looking at you with a look that said I'm alright, let me do it but simultaneously stop me again, I dare you.
you loosened your grip and let a smirk grace your lips, excitement and thrill coursing through your body. “thought I was too big for your pretty little mouth?” you mused as castiel started out slow again, to let himself settle down a bit. his eyelids just fluttered shut. you could tell that the gears in his head were turning, but all that he wanted at the moment was to suck you off so good, to make you forget your worries and focus on him. pulling off with a soft pop sound, castiel turned his head at an angle and his tongue licked a stripe from the tip to the base once again, this time on the side of your cock. you made a pleased sound, his lips pressing kisses back to the tip. your cock was now slick with a mix of his saliva and a bit of your own precum.
giving you no warning, castiel used a hand to steady your cock before shoving it down his throat, as much as he could possibly fit. he even sat up a bit. “ugh,, yeah angel, just like that..” you rasped out, face scrunched up as you felt the tightness of his throat against your tip. he gagged again, this time more harshly, his blinking frequent to rid himself of the tears gathering in his eyes. you admit, it was quite worrying to see him do this, but at the same time.. it was hot. it was extremely sexy and it turned you on even more, your cock twitching in his mouth. castiel felt it and he choked, his shoulders tensing. he was just about to pull his head back, but in the spur of the moment, you just held his head in place, even pushing your hips forward.
castiel groaned before he choked again, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your thighs. the sound of him choking on your dick because you're just too big for him.. it made you ecstatic. eventually, both of your hands sought solace on castiel's head. your movements started off slow, experimental even, moving your angel's head up and down, adding the movement of your hips to the mix. castiel squeezed his thighs shut, his own hard-on straining against his pants. he paid no mind to it right now. “so perfect, aren't you? letting me use your mouth as I please.” your voice was a low moan, the movements increasing in pace. his teeth accidentally grazed your length and it made you grunt, fingertips pressing to his scalp. the slick sounds, the muffled groans from castiel, the praises and sounds of pleasure leaving your lips, it all filled the defeaning silence in the room. you never thought you'd get to face fuck castiel of all people, or angels, but you sure as hell weren't complaining.
after a good minute, and castiel struggling to breathe, you gave harsh thrusts and came with a loud groan, your shoulders hunching and your entire body leaning forward, cumming inside castiel's warm mouth. you released your grip on his head entirely, leisurely sliding your hands down to castiel's face and pulling him off of your cock. his face was flushed, chest heaving and breath coming in in shorts puffs, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. his mouth hung open for a second and you caught a glimpse of your cum sliding down to the tip of his tongue. he pressed his lips together, swallowing hard. oh.
“cas.. fuck-” you breathed lowly, shifting on the bed a bit, moving to press your foot to castiel's crotch; you noticed the bulge. he whined in response, leaning into your touch as he closed his eyes and tried catching his breath. “imma fuck you so good..” you promised him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth.
Ok I know I've been posting Soldier Boy, BUT I have other interests too.
Castiel draped over you as your back arches against the war-room table, nudging his cock further inside of you with each gentle, but firm roll of his hips. He presses both hands down on your belly, mesmerized by the way he can see his cock inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him impossibly closer. His hands tense on your belly at the feeling, "You- you feel exquisite..." he murmurs. You suck in a breath and shudder with pleasure.
Castiel dating Male!Reader who he takes anywhere and everywhere. If he goes on a case with the brothers, he brings his boyfriend; if he goes out somewhere, he brings his boyfriend, it's simply out of the question (unless Reader refuses ofc). (Fluff, crack, Dean getting annoyed and Cas being confused why T_T)
(Halloo!!! I'm also getting into writing via fanfiction on here, so I wanted 2 send in a req!! Ur profile is also sooo cutee :3!! <3)
Velcro Angel
Pairing: Castiel x male reader
Warnings: None, just Dean being annoyed at gay people.
An: Hello @s-kellie-z !! Ahh, thank you so much for the request and the kind message! ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა♡❀ You just made my day! This was so much fun to write, and I really hope it lives up to your expectations!
Word count: 1,013
Castiel did not do casual.
If Castiel went anywhere, you were coming along. The Angel needed to be possessively present with you. Why would he not? And usually there wasn’t a refusal on your end, but when you would? He’d be confused, but would never push your answer. Your word was final.
You were his human. His person. His…
“His emotional support human.” Dean had muttered once, loud enough for everyone to hear in the motel room.
Cas had tilted his head, considering this. "That is... not inaccurate."
You'd laughed so hard you nearly choked.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The first time Castiel brought you on a hunt, Sam had raised an eyebrow but really said nothing. He'd worked with you before. Sam knew you could handle yourself. So having you around wasn't a liability.
Dean, however, had opinions. Very vocal opinions.
"Seriously?" He'd watched Cas materialize in the motel room with you beside him, your duffel slung over one shoulder. "You couldn't have given us a heads-up? Some kind of text?”
"I did," Cas said flatly. "I told you I was bringing him."
"You said, 'I'm retrieving my partner.' That could have meant anything!"
"It meant exactly what I said."
Dean had opened his mouth, closed it, and then just pointed a finger at you. "You. You're paying for your own food."
"Already planned on it, man," you'd shrugged, already not surprised by Dean's negative reaction.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
But you were useful, that was the thing. Dean couldn't even pretend the fact.
On hunts, you moved like you'd been doing this your whole life (because you had). You checked corners, asked the right questions, and never froze when things got ugly. More than once, you'd spotted something the brothers missed, your hunter instincts just as reliable as the Winchesters.
And Cas would watch you work like you were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
Which, honestly? You probably were.
The problem, and Dean would insist it was a problem, was that Cas had no concept of personal space when it came to you.
He hovered. Constantly.
If you were researching at the motel table, Cas was right there, shoulder pressed against yours. The Angel would be reading over your arm like he couldn't bear to be even six inches away. If you were eating breakfast, he'd sit beside you and watch you chew like it was the most riveting activity on earth.
"You're staring," you'd mumble, mouth half-full of pancakes.
"I like looking at you," he'd reply. "Your face is...pleasant. You look better now that you’ve eaten.”
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Now the real issue was that Cas didn't know how to let you handle things on your own.
He did not mean to be malicious. It wasn't even intentional. But the second a situation seemed even slightly dangerous, Cas would step in.
The one example you could remember was when you were questioning a witness, a super nervous looking gentleman who seemed like he was about to bolt. You had it handled, hell, you'd dealt with worse. But then the man's hand twitched toward his pocket, and suddenly Cas was there.
"He is armed," Cas announced, his hand clamping down on the guy's wrist. "You may proceed with your questions."
"Cas," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I had it."
"You did," he agreed. "But he was reaching for a weapon. I simply-“
"I know what you did. My eyes work."
Cas blinked at you, genuinely confused. "You are upset."
"I'm not upset, I'm…" You sighed, rubbing your face. "Babe. I can handle myself."
"I know."
"Then why-“
"You are capable," Cas said simply. "But I am here as well. And I will not let anything hurt you. That is...not negotiable."
The same scenario would happen again. And again. And again.
A vampire grabbed you? Cas had it pinned before you could even draw your knife. A demon tried to get in your head? Cas was in its head first, blue eyes blazing, making it scream.
Every single time, you'd turn to him with that look that was full of fondness and exasperation. But so in love, it made his grace flicker, and the interaction between you two would say something like:
"I had it."
"I know."
"Cas."
"I am not sorry."
And he wasn't. Not even a little.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The thing about Castiel was that he knew Dean was annoyed. More than he usually was.
He just couldn't figure out why.
"Is there a problem?" Cas asked one afternoon, appearing beside Dean in the library of the bunker. Dean jumped about a foot in the air.
"Jesus-!! Cas, warn a guy!"
"I am not Jesus. I am Castiel. And you have been sighing loudly for the past thirty minutes. Are you unwell?"
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm fine."
"You do not seem fine."
"Cas. Drop it."
"Your heartbeat is elevated. Your breathing is-"
"Cas!"
Cas tilted his head. "You are irritated. Is it because of me?"
"No- yes-!! I don't know!" Dean threw his hands up. "You're just always around! And he's always around! And you two are so…" He made a vague gesture that somehow conveyed everything and nothing. "That!"
Cas stared at him blankly. "I do not understand."
"Of course you don't."
"I love him," Cas said simply. "Why would I not want to be near him? He is kind. He is brave. He makes me feel..." He paused, searching for the word. "Whole."
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it.
He just shook his head and walked away, muttering something about "angelic emotional support boyfriends" and "can't take them anywhere."
Cas watched him go, genuinely confused.
"You did good," you said, appearing at his elbow with a small grin. "That was the perfect response."
Cas turned to you, expression softening instantly. "He seems upset."
"He'll get over it." You tugged on his tie, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Come on. I want to show you something."
Cas followed without hesitation, his hand finding yours.
Because of course he did.
You were his partner. Where else would he go? ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Prompt: Sam Winchester always has lip gloss residue after kisses.
An: This is my first time writing for Sam Winchester ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- I'm still pretty new to the show, but I wanted to do something silly and cute with him. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: 527
The thing about your lip glosses, Sam learned, was that they were everywhere.
Now you were not messy with your collection, absolutely not. No, you had a system with the sheer amount, often keeping them in specific places for specific purposes. And Sam became quickly observant and familiar with this quirk of yours.
The first spot was the glove compartment of the Impala. This was where you kept your clear glosses. These were thick, syrupy in consistency, and often scentless. You would reach for these during a drive, pulling the visor mirror to reapply while Dean side-eyed or scoffed at the sight. This touch-up would last through multiple coffees, through gas station snacks, through hours upon hours on the highway.
The next spot that you claimed was Sam's jacket pocket, much to his surprise. This would often be before hunts, you'd subtly slip into a baby pink or cherry colored tube. It was almost a game to see how many you could sneak before Sam eventually noticed. And you would reach into his pocket after a closed case, reapply it with a small smile on your face. Then you'd kiss him, leaving behind that soft color residue on his lips that he'd catch himself pressing together just to feel.
The third most common area was motel bathrooms. Now this was where you often kept your more beautifully packaged glosses. These would often have some kind of sparkle, whether it was chunky glitter that could be seen from miles away or fine glitter shimmer that needed to be caught with the right lighting. Morning gloss, you called it. For starting the day right.
Then, finally, your bag was the motherlode. Sam had witnessed you pull out several different tubes all at once, placing them on the motel bedspread to neatly arrange them back in your bag. This was where Sam could find a gloss for every occasion that had every kind of finish: high-shine, metallic, opaque, satin, sheer, buttery, oil-infused, shimmery, glittery, pigmented, and finally plumping.
Oh, plumping gloss. Now that was for...well. That one had its own purpose.
Plumping gloss was Sam's favorite.
Sam still remembered the first time you’d used it. He kissed you hello, and his lips started to tingle within seconds. It was a strangely warm, fuzzy sensation that spread across his lips. He pulled away, startled, and you giggled at his expression.
“It's plumping,” you explained, showing him the tube with a fancy-looking font that said LIP INJECTION. “It makes your lips look fuller by increasing blood flow.”
"It feels more like burning."
"Tingles," you corrected. "Don’t worry, the feeling will fade away."
Sam got used to the tingles left behind. More than used to it. Sam would often reach for you even more on days when you wore that particular gloss. When you kissed along his jaw, moving down the column of his throat, the lingering sensation of those warm tingles was sweet.
So every kiss of yours left something behind. A shimmer. A stain. A tingling warmth that lingered for hours.
Sam Winchester always had your lip gloss residue after kisses.
