It is with a heavy heart that im closing this chapter of my life for a bit. I loved fic writing and freaking together with you all, i’ll try remember all of you that have said nice things to me and i genuinely try to be a good person as much as possible because i havent had it easy in life and i believe everyone has a backstory. im leaving my masterlist here just as a precursor cus im pinning this post to make sure no ones hopes get up if they stumble upon my dead blog.
Im moving forward in my journey, finding more fandoms than just the metallica one thet ive stayed in for so long (yall can tell which one im moving on to i think based off the song im not slick-)
God not to turn it into a sob story but i am dealing with a lot of personal shit right now too. I live with my single mother, and she’s just been diagnosed with a life threatening condition, and im still young and my father hasnt been around so ive been entangled in this completely on my own juggling work and classes. I havent had enough time to start writing or even finish those i started. Im also starting to focus more on music and my studies.
On the whole reason im quitting in the first place, that person that yall and i know… well id say ive settled shit but i still hold a grudge. I’ll only come back after it dies down, because i have strong feelings about it. Not hate, not jealousy. Just a strange feeling i can’t put my finger on.
Think of it this way. Imagine this, you start something frm scratch. You work really hard on it—and you think you’ve finally had it made, only for someone way better and more perfect to just swoop in get the thunder and you then realise there is always someone better than you somewhere out in the world. Thats what im feeling.
And i dont hate them, not at all—because im not an asshole, but because it’s been the moral of my whole life. Thats why i didnt wanna falsely point fingers because i know what it can do.
I promise i’ll come back someday somehow to finish all the fics i have currently. Im sorry if i ever wronged any of you, or made you feel uncomfortable with anything ive said or done. If any of you have ever felt uneasy around me i apologise completely because in real life im very introverted and this platform was the only way i could express myself truly because even on my other socials im a very watered down version of myself. Sorry for leaving so abruptly and i hope yall have a good time without me for now. I dont want fanfare or anything no its just a soft goodbye for now.
Here i go into new days—I Dissapear
Special thanks to these blogs for making my time here an amazing one.
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@metallicames @weirdgenetic-fuckup @sn00kii @mxtal-up-ur-ass @maddihetfield @jameshetfieldsfav @creep1ngdeathh @imtaniphobic (sorry gang idk why it doesnt let me tag you) @shadowfwebby @ride-the-hammett @newstedswife @the-unforg1ving @chrisredballs @ayehnsfang
Hi guys im just swingin by to say hi!! Ive been busy in life like im working on a film with WB based off supernatural so i havent had time not just for fic writing but for the other arts as well—but i have seen yalls nice little messages tellin me yall miss my writing and i just wanna say i love yall so so very much yall dont even know it. Ok enough rambling LOVE YALL I’LL BE BACK 😛❤️🙏
Masterlist, AO3
Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader
Word count: 5.4k
Summary: Castiel gets hit with a sex curse on a hunt. He goes to you with the hope you have the cure 🤭
Content: smut!! sex curse (f*ck or die), praise kink, making out, body worship, p in v sex, innocent cas, cas loses his virginity, switch!castiel, breast play, cowgirl, missionary, oral sex fem!recieving, cumplay, no use of Y/N
A/N - YALL I AM SICK this has to be the freakiest thing I've ever written ;) This is the fic from the last poll and the finished version of Sex Curse (Sneak Peek), I'm so sorry it took a bit but I hope this makes up for it ☺️ Also PS click HERE to join the tag list!!
On the outside, the case didn’t seem like anything special. The article titled "Two Victims Found Dead in Cult-Like Ritual" had caught your attention. After arriving in the small town, you quickly discovered a witch who was targeting virgins and using their blood for spellwork. It was nasty, but unfortunately common in your line of work. As the designated researcher of the Winchester duo, you figured you'd be of little to no use in this case.
Your days often consisted of long library stays and obscure lectures from forgotten professors. And while you occasionally joined a hunt, you’d be lying if you said it was where your natural talents lay.
Sam, Dean, and Cas had left hours ago. You’d offered to accompany them, but they claimed it wasn’t necessary. Someone needed to “protect home base,” as Dean had put it. Home base being a motel room that hadn’t been remodeled since the 70s. In reality, you knew they just wanted you researching the ever looming apocalypse 24/7—but you didn’t mind. It gave you an uninterrupted evening, which was incredibly rare on the road.
You sat cross-legged on the bed, a book resting in your lap, humming softly to yourself as you scribbled down notes. Having long since changed out of your typical day to day outfit, you wore only a tank top and some boy short underwear. With the boys out, you had the freedom to wear whatever you pleased and you were not wasting the opportunity.
The Book of Enoch sat open before you. You had read the book far too many times, but with the issue at hand, you decided it needed a closer look. It was an ancient Jewish religious text that fascinated you with its descriptions of demon origins, the fall of angels, and the birth of Nephilim. You thought of Castiel as you read—your own personal angel and greatest philosophical resource. You wondered if he had seen what was depicted… if he had participated.
Your thoughts were cut off as your phone rang loudly from the bedside table. Flipping it open, you saw the screen flash DEAN OTHER PHONE and clicked Answer.
“Hey Dean, everything alright?” you asked casually.
“No. Listen—something went wrong. It’s Cas.” He spoke quickly, voice gruff. “The witch hit him with a spell and he’s—” Dean cut himself off.
“He’s what?” Your voice clipped, fear bubbling up inside you.
He sighed over the phone. “Look, I think we’ve seen something like it before. He’ll be fine, but the curse is a bitch.”
“What is it, Dean?” You were already getting off the bed, ready to prepare ingredients for whatever cure you’d need to make.
“It’s a sex curse.” His words made you freeze. “It’ll wear off eventually… after he—you know. We were gonna try getting him a chick at the local bar, but he’s refusing.”
You were silent for a moment as your brain caught up. “So if he doesn’t have sex, then what?” your voice was meek.
“He’ll die. At least we think so. I’m not sure if it’s different for angels.” Dean groaned, and you could picture him running a hand over his face in exasperation. “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t need to.”
Your heart stopped.
“We told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he wants to go to you. He thinks you might be able to find a cure in time."
“Dean—I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t even know where to begin—”
A fluttering of wings behind you made you pause.
You hung up the phone and turned around.
You felt your chest constrict at the sight in front of you. Castiel stood stiffly in the center of your motel room, his eyes darting around until they landed on you. He looked disoriented, and you watched as a painful looking shiver racked his body.
“Castiel” you spoke softly, as if speaking to a wild animal.
His eyes stayed trained on you as his brows furrowed. “Something’s wrong.”
You took a slow step toward him. “I know. Dean told me. You were hit with a curse.”
His hands twitched at his sides. “I thought I was injured, but there’s no wound. It just… burns. I no longer feel in control of my vessel.” He closed his eyes, jaw tightening. “I’m trying to heal myself but it isn’t working.”
“Okay–” you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know what Dean told you, but I don’t know how to fix this,” you admitted, walking over to the spell books you had open on the nearby desk. You grabbed the most promising one, and flipped through it.
“I’ve read about lust spells, compulsion magic—but this? This sounds more advanced than anything I know. Do you happen to know what the witch said when she cursed you, Dean didn’t say on the phone.” you asked, looking up from the book.
Castiel’s eyes darkened slightly as he tried to focus on your words, but there was something hazy behind his gaze — like he couldn’t quite pay attention, his eyes drifting up and down your body. You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered what you were wearing, knowing it certainly wasn’t helping.
“I… don’t know what she said,” he admitted, voice strained. “There was blood. Symbols. She pressed her hand to my chest and whispered something—It might have been latin. And then it started.”
You nodded, flipping frantically through the spellbook, scanning for anything remotely similar. You were met with pages on siren magic, succubi, enchantment sigils—but nothing that described this exact situation.
“Well, we know it’s a sex curse.” you said carefully, eyes flicking up to him.
He blinked, confused. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
You hesitated, your fingers freezing mid-turn on the page. “It’s… a spell that targets desire. It forces your body to crave intimacy. Physical release. And if you don’t… it can kill you. Although, I’m not entirely sure what it will do to you.”
Castiel stood still, processing. “Angels aren’t—we’re not meant to experience that,” he said slowly, his hand pressing against his chest like he could calm the burning beneath his skin. “My grace is reacting abnormally. I’ve never felt this before –” he paused, “I won’t be able to hold it off much longer”.
You stepped closer, carefully, placing the book down on the desk. “That’s what the curse does. It’s made to make you feel powerless until you… give in.”
He groaned softly—just a breath, but it hit you in the chest. His posture slouched for the first time, looking more human than you had ever seen him.
“I can feel it spreading,” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s worse now. The closer you get to me – the more I feel it. I can’t—I can’t stop thinking of you.” his eyes went wide, as if realizing what he just said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Hey, hey.” You stepped closer and gently grabbed his arm. He was burning up, his grace fighting to keep the vessel stable. “Don’t apologize. It’s the curse, Cas. It’s feeding off the closest connection you have—and that happens to be me right now.”
His breath caught, and he looked at you like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.
You pulled him gently toward the bed. “Sit down. Just breathe for a second. I’m going to keep looking, okay?”
He sat, clearly struggling not to reach for you again. His fingers gripped the edge of the blanket like he needed the grounding.
As he adjusted himself on the bed, your eyes unintentionally flicked downward—and then you froze.
There was a noticeable bulge in his slacks, and the way he quickly tugged his trench coat over his lap didn’t escape your attention. His face flushed, a rare sight, and he looked anywhere but at you. The tension in his jaw hardened as though he could will the arousal away by sheer force of will.
You looked away quickly, not wanting to embarrass him further—but it was too late. He’d seen the glance.
“I—I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “I don’t understand. It’s never happened before and I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” you said quickly, voice soft. “I know you can’t help it. It’s not your fault, Cas.”
He nodded to himself, like your words had made the entire situation okay. You watched the subtle tremble in his hands, the tension rippling through his vessel like something primal was trying to claw its way out.
“You’re wrong you know”, he spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “About the curse – it isn’t abstract desire.”
Your eyes met his, wide with surprise. He wasn’t looking at you like the angel you knew. He was looking at you how a man looked at a woman. Your heart clenched at the intensity.
“Even when it first hit me,” he continued, voice strained like every word physically pained him, “I could only think of you”.
You swallowed hard, your heart thudding loud in your ears.
“Castiel… you don’t know what you’re saying” you whispered, unsure whether to comfort or pull away.
“I tried to resist it,” he said, eyes pleading. “But my body—this vessel—reacted. Your voice. Your hands. Your warmth. It’s all I could think about, all I can think about.”
He looked down at the ground, curling in on himself. “You’ve always been the object of my desires” he admitted, almost ashamed. “It’s not right for me to feel this way.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
The room felt too quiet as his words settled over you. You’ve always been the object of my desires. You hadn't expected that. Not from the angel who once looked at humanity like a mystery to be solved, not felt.
Your fingers itched to reach for him, to offer comfort and relief from the spell coursing through his veins. But fear rooted you in place. Fear that this wasn’t real. That it wasn’t truly him speaking, but the curse bending his thoughts.
“Cas…” you breathed, voice thick with emotion. “I care about you.”
He looked at you like those words alone kept him breathing.
“That’s why I need to be honest,” you added gently, stepping closer. “This spell—it might be making your emotions stronger, or confusing them. And I need to know that what you’re feeling… what you’re saying—it’s really you.”
His gaze faltered, pain flashing in his eyes, but you didn’t let the silence stretch too long.
“You have always been important to me, even before any of this. And once we break this spell—if you still feel the same—I’ll be right here. I promise.”
He trembled, hands fisting the blanket, but he nodded ever so slightly.
You turned to the desk and sat down, grabbing an old leather book. Its pages smelled of dust and rose petals, and you prayed it held something useful.
“I’m going to fix this,” you whispered, fingers brushing the parchment. “Just… keep holding on. Stay with me, okay?”
Behind you, his voice came like a vow, quiet and unwavering. “I am with you.”
You flipped through the pages feverishly, trying to focus despite the way your heart thundered with every broken breath Castiel took behind you.
Each passing second, his quiet groans grew louder and more desperate. At first, he’d been sitting up, fists clenched tight around the motel blanket—but now, out of the corner of your eye, you could see he had maneuvered onto his side.
You couldn’t look at him directly, not yet.
The low, ragged sound of his breathing. The guttural edge to his voice. The way he whispered your name once—so soft, you almost thought you imagined it. Each noise hit you in a way that made your cheeks flush and your thighs tense.
You shut your eyes for a second, battling the wave of heat curling through you. This wasn’t the time. He was suffering. He needed your help, not your hormones. But god, his voice—it was doing things to you.
A small part of you, dark and aching, wanted to drop the book and crawl over to him. To help him. To give him the relief he needed—maybe the relief you needed, too.
Instead, you forced your attention on the book in front of you—rereading lines over and over, trying to make sense of sigils and latin descriptions. “Come on,” you whispered, scanning over the faded script.
Behind you, the mattress creaked softly, followed by a particularly loud and strained groan that cut off in a shallow gasp.
Worried he was hurt, you turned to look at Cas.
Your mind went blank as you took in the scene before you. Castiel was curled around a pillow, his eyes screwed shut as he pressed it to his groin. His hips moved slowly and mindlessly, humping the pillow as breathless moans fell from his lips. You couldn’t look away as the ache between your legs became harder to ignore. It was so wrong—the angel didn’t know what he was doing, and there you were, watching him.
You shook your head and looked back down at the book, more motivated than ever to find a cure. You flipped through the pages, hoping you’d missed something. Skimming quickly, you felt your heart stop as a Latin phrase caught your attention: Intimitas maledictio sororis agnetis—the intimacy curse of Sister Agnes. The name rang alarm bells in your mind as you remembered: Agnes had been a nun-turned-witch who had dedicated her life to undoing curses.
You read the paragraph, your heart rate skyrocketing as you realized it was the curse Cas had been hit with. If anyone had found a cure to the curse, it would have been her. Reading to the bottom, you found the last sentence: There is no cure other than physical intimacy. You felt your lungs constrict, unable to say anything as you reread the lines over and over again. There is no cure. Your worst fears were confirmed, and your chest ached for the angel.
Shutting the book softly, you stood up from the chair and glanced over at Cas. If possible, he was even more disheveled from when you had last looked. His lip was now tucked between his teeth in an effort to be quiet as he moved against the pillow. So lost in finding his release, he didn’t even notice you had gotten up.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you moved toward him, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped with your weight, and his eyes fluttered open, finding you through a haze of pain and need. His lip slipped from between his teeth, cheeks burning with shame as his hips stuttered to a stop. It was the most sinful look you had ever seen, and it had come from an angel.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, wincing as he turned his face away, like he couldn't bear for you to see him like this. “It hurts—”
You leaned closer, your voice soft and warm. “Shh, Cas. Don’t apologize,” you whispered, resisting the urge to reach out to him, knowing it would only make it worse. He seemed to sag with relief at your words, his body instinctively moving again, still trembling under the weight of the curse.
“There is no cure then,” his voice broken and tired. It was a statement, not a question.
You swallowed hard, wishing you could tell him something different .“No, I’m so sorry. I checked everything, only physical intimacy can break the curse. It’s a miracle you’re doing as well as you are.” You lowered your eyes to your lap, giving him privacy even as every instinct screamed at you to help. “I can keep looking if you want, but— I don’t think you have much time before it gets worse.”
He didn’t say anything, but you heard the soft ruffling of sheets as he struggled to sit up, and when you finally met his eyes again, your heart ached.
He leaned back against the headboard, trembling with restraint. Your gaze dropped before you could stop yourself, and your cheeks burned at the sight of the obvious need straining against his pants. He tensed, grabbing the pillow to hide himself, his whole body taut with the effort.
Your chest tightened painfully at the sight. You didn’t look away from him this time. You stayed with him.
“What do I do?” he asked, voice breaking into a desperate whine.
“What do you want to do, Castiel?” you asked softly.
His fingers tightened around the pillow, knuckles white, as he fought with himself. You could see it — the battle between needing relief and fighting the curse.
“I want you,” he finally whispered, voice so low it was almost a prayer. His eyes found yours, desperate and searching. “Please help me.”
Your heart broke a little more, and without hesitation, you leaned closer “Cas,” you murmured, your voice full of certainty. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”
You brushed your fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight tremble beneath your touch. His eyes flickered with something raw and aching — a desperation so fierce it made your chest tighten. Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.
Knowing it was his first time, you started gentle, your lips moving softly, giving him time to adjust — but Cas had no more patience left.
The moment he felt your mouth on his, a broken, needy moan tore from his chest. His kiss was messy and devouring. His mouth moved against yours, hot and desperate, the lack of control sending a shudder through you as he fought to get you closer.
Realizing the pillow on his lap was in the way, you grabbed it and tossed it to the other side of the bed, your lips still fused to his as you climbed onto his lap.
You gasped as you straddled him, the unmistakable hardness in his pants sending shivers through you as you pressed down against him. The angel groaned at the contact, his hands flying to your hips, gripping you tightly enough to bruise as he dominated your mouth.
You cradled his head, only pulling back when you needed air. A soft, needy whimper left his mouth at the loss of your lips, the sound so wrecked it made your heart stutter. His displeasure didn’t last long though — you immediately attacked his neck, kissing and licking until you found his sweet spot.
Sucking down hard, you felt his hips roll up into you, desperate for friction.
"More," he gasped out, voice wrecked. "Please, more, please—"
You lifted from his neck, hushing him gently. “Can you remove your clothes for me, angel?” you asked sweetly, running a soothing hand through his hair.
He looked up at you, utterly undone, one hand shakily lifting from your hips. With a soft snap of his fingers, his clothes disappeared, leaving him in nothing but white boxers.
You couldn't help but bite your lip at the ethereal sight beneath you.
"Beautiful," you murmured, running a hand over his chest appreciatively, letting your fingers wander over his toned abdomen and the trail of hair leading downward.
Cas groaned at your praise, his head thrown back against the headboard as he arched into your touch, his hands once again gripping your hips.
Not wanting to keep him waiting, you shifted lower, trailing kisses down his body. You licked and nibbled at his heated skin, his hands moving to guide your head as you traveled further down.
Finally reaching his waistband, you paused, looking up at him. He met your gaze, his brows furrowed and his eyes dark with arousal.
“I’m going to take these off now, is that alright?” you asked softly, running a hand slowly over his thigh.
He nodded eagerly, words tumbling out between panting breaths. "Yes, yes, oh father, yes—"
At his desperate confirmation, you moved to remove his boxers — but before you could, another snap of his fingers had them vanishing.
You gasped as you took him in fully, unable to tear your eyes away.
His cock was pulsing with need, a bead of precum dripping from the tip. You licked your lips as you took him in, fully aware you had most certainly soaked through your underwear.
“I need to see you,” Castiel whined, as if you'd ever deny him, his hand still cradling your head.
You only smiled up at him, gently slipping out of his grasp to reach for your tank top. Without a second thought, you pulled it over your head.
You watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on your chest, his hands trembling as he raised them, silently asking for permission.
You nodded, taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. He squeezed them experimentally, and you moaned softly at the contact — the sound drawing his eyes back up to your face.
That moan must’ve triggered something in him, because suddenly his hands gripped your waist and he pulled you back down onto his cock, only the thin fabric of your underwear separating you.
He sat up, burying his face in your chest as his hips ground up into you.
You gasped at the sudden friction as he began moving you — forward, backward — guiding your body over him. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, a moan ripping from your throat as his lips latched onto your chest. He kissed you reverently, worshipping you with every breathy groan, before finding your nipple and giving it a soft suck that had you reeling.
He continued grinding you against him, dragging your soaked center along the length of his cock, his hands holding you in place as he moved beneath you. His movements instinctual as he blindly followed his pleasure.
Your own hands found his shoulders for support, fingers digging in as the pressure grew just right — the thick length of him beneath you sending you spiraling.
You moaned his name, grabbing at him as he continued relentlessly.
“More,” he whimpered into your skin. “It hurts, I need more—”
“Take my underwear off, sweetheart,” you breathed, voice wrecked with need. The ache must have been torture for him by now.
You didn’t have to ask twice. With another snap of his fingers, your underwear vanished, leaving you bare and pressed directly against him.
The sudden wet heat made him gasp — the surprised moan that left his mouth was nothing short of sinful.
Reaching down between you, you curled your fingers around him, causing his jaw to go slack as you guided his tip to your entrance. Lifting your hips slightly, you sank down on him slowly.
Your back arched as his cock split you open. Despite how ready you thought you were, you still felt a slight burn as he stretched you out, filling you completely.
A sputtered gasp broke through your haze, drawing your attention down to him. Castiel’s hooded gaze locked onto yours, all heat and need, his hands shaking with restraint as you inched lower until you were fully seated on him.
You brought a hand to his hair, brushing the fringe from his forehead as his chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmured breathlessly, adjusting to his size.
He whined, pressing his head into your hand.
“I don’t know what to — you feel incredible, I can’t —" he stammered, his hips stuttering as he fought to stay still.
“I know, I know. I got you," you soothed, moving your hands to his shoulders. Slowly, you lifted yourself until only the tip of him remained inside you, before dropping back down, taking him fully once more.
A deep, almost primal growl ripped from his chest, the sound sending a shudder through you and making you flutter around him.
“Keep going,” he begged, voice wrecked, “please — keep going.”
You set a slow, grinding pace at first, rolling your hips in small, deliberate circles that had Castiel's hands flying to your waist, clutching you like a lifeline. His head tipped back against the pillow, throat bared, jaw tight with the effort to hold himself together.
Every little movement of yours pulled a ragged moan from him, his body trembling beneath you.
"You're perfect," he rasped, voice rough like gravel. "So beautiful."
Your heart thudded at his words, heat pooling low in your belly as you quickened your pace. The delicious friction of him filling you, dragging against every nerve ending inside you, made you whimper against his neck.
He bucked up instinctively, chasing the feeling, and you cried out softly at the sudden, deeper thrust.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, but you shook your head quickly, burying your face against his jaw.
"Don't stop," you breathed, your voice a broken plea. "I need you, Cas."
That was all it took to shatter whatever fragile control he had left.
His hands shifted from your hips to under your ass, and in one fluid motion, he sat up, holding you against him, buried so deep inside you it felt like he could never be close enough.
His mouth found yours again — desperate, consuming — as he thrust up into you, rhythm messy and urgent.
You moaned into his kiss, clutching his shoulders, feeling the slick slide of your bodies, the raw need spiraling higher and higher between you both.
Every time he moved, you felt your walls flutter helplessly around him, felt him pulse inside you, and it drove you closer to the edge.
"Please," he begged again, voice trembling against your lips. "Something is— I can't — I'm—"
"I know," you whispered, kissing him fiercely. "It’s okay, let go for me, Castiel."
At your words, Cas groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your skin as he thrust up harder, chasing the release he was barely holding back from.
Your bodies moved together in a frantic, perfect rhythm, every stroke sending a fresh wave of pleasure flooding through you.
You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he hit something inside you that made your vision blur.
"Cas," you gasped, breaking the kiss, forehead pressing to his as your breathing hitched. "I'm so close—"
"Yes—please," he rasped, his voice desperate, wrecked. "I feel it."
You nodded frantically, hips grinding down against him, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it snapped.
Pleasure crashed over you in a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cried out his name, walls clenching around him.
The feel of you unraveling in his arms broke him completely.
With a hoarse shout, Castiel buried himself deep inside you and came undone, hips jerking helplessly as he spilled into you, holding you impossibly close.
You clung to him as you came down from your high, expecting to feel him begin to soften inside you — the curse finally sated.
But instead, he grew even more desperate. His body trembled as he gripped you tightly, his cock still throbbing deep inside.
“It’s not over,” he gritted out, pain etched across his face as his body radiated heat.
Your hand, still unsteady, reached for his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.
“Take what you need, sweetheart. It’s okay,” you whispered, watching his eyes go wide at your words. “I want you to take me.”
A guttural groan tore from his throat as he grabbed you, flipping you beneath him in one smooth motion.
Then he moved — his hips snapping into yours at a pace that was nothing short of inhuman.
You moaned loudly at the stimulation against your already sensitive core, the sounds high and mindless as he fucked you, his cock impossibly deep with the new angle. One particular thrust made you cry out — a sharp, broken scream — as he slammed into your g-spot.
The sound caught his attention. He adjusted his angle slightly, now thrusting upward with precision, his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you every time. You clenched around him, helpless under the intensity, and he growled low in your ear, burying his face in your neck to kiss along your skin the same way you had done to him earlier.
The familiar coil tightened quickly in your stomach, and before you could even form the words to warn him, it snapped. Your vision went white as your second climax tore through you, your pussy fluttering wildly around him, milking him with each wave of release.
It was too much — he groaned against your skin, hips faltering before he spilled into you again, your name like a prayer on his lips as he fell weightless onto you.
You brought shaking hands to his back as you held him, gently stroking him while you both came down from your highs.
“It’s done,” he murmured into your neck, breaking the silence.
You leaned forward and kissed the top of his head, saying nothing as you continued to hold him, your hands gliding over the firm muscles of his back as he softened inside you.
A warmth began to slip down your thighs, and you cringed slightly as his cum seeped out of you. Cas felt it too. He sat up slowly, pulling out of you with a soft hiss before inspecting the mess between your legs.
You watched him curiously as his head tilted, his eyes fixed on where his release pooled from your core. Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and slid a finger through it, making you whine at the overstimulation. Then, to your surprise, he brought that finger to his mouth, sucking it clean. Your breath caught in your throat.
Before you could form words, he lowered his head between your legs and licked a slow stripe up your slit. You moaned at the overwhelming sensitivity, your hands flying to his hair as his tongue moved deliberately, gently. He groaned low in his chest, burying his face in you as he lapped at your pussy, cleaning you with devout focus.
When he’d determined you were clean, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thighs before looking up at you with those soft, doe eyes.
You were speechless as he moved back up, lying beside you and resting his head on your chest.
With a snap of his fingers, you were both clean and dry — which made your mind spiral with questions, the main one being: Why hadn’t he done that in the first place? Not that you were complaining.
“Where did you learn that?” you blurted, still a little breathless as you looked down at the angel.
“A video on Dean’s computer,” he said softly into your chest, making you erupt with laughter as you pressed a kiss into his hair.
His head lifted, eyes searching yours with concern. “Did you not like it?” he asked, genuinely unsure.
You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. “I really liked it,” you murmured, a playful glint in your eye.
That earned a boyish grin from him before he settled back down, cheek resting contentedly against your chest.
You ran your fingers slowly through his hair, feeling the tension melt from his body as he laid against you. The silence warm and soothing as you held him.
But after a few moments, you felt him shift.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible.
You blinked, glancing down at him. “For what?”
“For the curse. For doing that to you,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt. “You deserve better. I never wanted to hurt you. ”
You cupped his cheek, gently guiding him to look up at you. His eyes — those beautiful, stormy eyes — were clouded with worry.
“You didn’t hurt me, Cas,” you said softly, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “You could never hurt me. I knew what I was doing. I chose to be with you — curse or not.”
His lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. You leaned in and kissed him again, this time slow and comforting.
“I love you,” you whispered against his mouth. “And I want you”.
He exhaled shakily and tucked himself back into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.
“Thank you, I love you,” he said quietly.
You kissed the top of his head once more, letting your fingers trace idle shapes along his back.
