you know what’s really rude and annoying and infuriating all at once?
sitting down to write, and my brain immediately going “nap time” mode.
like. no. what do you mean you’re sleepy now?? what do you mean you’re all awake when we’re scrolling on tumblr but shut down when it’s time to write?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? WE’VE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE ALL DAY—
affirmations for writers: i know how to write. i have seen sentences before, and i know how to make one. i can identify up to several words and their meanings. i am not afraid of semicolons.
Summary: You have been watching Castiel at your church for a while. At some point just watching him was not enough. You needed to touch him, to see if you could make him crumble.
AN: I just felt like we male readers needed a priest castiel fic. This took me way to long and may be mid as hell- but i hope at least one other person enjoys it.
“Bless me father for I have sinned.”
The tiny confessional box felt more like a prison cell in this moment. The dim lighting only intensified the thoughts ravaging your brain. Every thought rushing through all at once toppling everything in its path like a collapsing dam. You shifted, your legs crossing instinctively. The man seated on the other side of the wall took a deep breath. His shadowy silhouette against the light from the stained glass made him look even holier. Almost angelic.
“Tell me my child, and through me the lord shall forgive.” The deep hoarse voice drifted into the air.
“Well you see, father,” you swallowed, the room seeming to grow even hotter, “I have been plagued with sinful urges.” You glanced through the ornate mesh shield separating the two of you. His gaze was still ahead, unaware of the way your face was contorted with barely contained lust. Your hands gripping your pants, searching for anyway to ground yourself.
“Don’t be afraid. There is no judgment here.” Images of him during the sermons came into your mind. You thought about him helping set decorations up for services and holidays. Him watering the plants, sleeves rolled up half way up his forearm. The sweat beading off his forehead from the sun beating down on him.
“It’s about you. I’m ashamed, I know I should be, but I need you.” You looked down at your hands then back at him. Even in the dark you could see his jaw clench and him straighten up. His head went to look through the mesh but he caught himself.
“Tell me.” His throat went dry and it felt like every nerve was on fire. Suddenly the collar was too tight. The room was too small. You were too far. He wanted you to go on. And you could feel it. He tried not to notice you and the way he caught you looking at him. Telling himself that it was just the way you look at everyone and that it cant possibly mean anything else. And yet he knew, he knew what those looks were saying and ignored them for as long as he could. He had to push his own thoughts away. He knew better than to let those sit in his head. The tension in the small divided room settles in like an early morning fog, almost unbearable and just on the edge of suffocation. “Tell me- so God can forgive.”
The deep breath you take fills your lungs and when you exhale you practically melt into the wall. Legs uncrossed and relaxed, hands rubbing your thighs. “Well if you insist.” You feel a sudden confidence start to set in. You close your eyes, lost in the fantasy almost immediately.
“I have this recurring thought, you see. It's me- between your legs. Haven't you ever been tempted, father? To sin in such a manner I mean?” His pants grew a little tighter at the thought. He never thought he would ever entertain such an idea. But now that it was in his mind, he couldn't stop his mind from running. The feeling of your mouth over him, the heat and the moisture. He thought about the feeling of grabbing your hair and massaging your scalp. You looking up at him with those eyes. These images came in flashes almost like a vision and his breathing quickened. He hadn’t wanted that kind of a touch in so long, and now that it has been implanted in his mind it was growing at a rate he didn’t expect. Along with the want there was guilt. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Shouldn’t be crumbling this fast at a mere fantasy.
You could sense him trying to not get excited. You could only imagine what he was fantasizing about if it was making him breathe like that. Knowing that he was struggling you continued.
“Would you be a gentle lover? Or would all those years of pent up sexuality make it rough? Like you were punishing me for my life of sin.” You turn to look through the mesh again and see him making small glances at you. You could see his shoulders move like he was readjusting.
“If you really want to experience heaven on Earth tell me, father. I would be more than happy to take you there.”
“That is an unacceptable offer.” He almost seems to choke on the words. “The lord forgives you for these,” he pauses, causing the tension to grow, “impure urges. Bless you my child, you have been forgiven.” He seems to dash out of his side of the room. You followed him with your eyes though the mesh. You couldn’t help but feel powerful, making a holy man like that crumble so fast.
Castiel rushed to the front of the church, standing under the ornate stained glass of Jesus on the cross. The rest of the church was darkened, the light from the glass covered the room in a redish tint. It seemed to almost foreshadow what was going to happen. He looked up at the glass, gripping the table cloth in front of him and he did the only thing he thought to do. Pray. He prayed for these urges to pass. For strength to fight the devilish temptations just layed out in front of him. He knew how easy it would be for him to crumble if faced with you, he needed strength. He begged God to make him strong enough to withold.
After giving him a second to himself you stepped out as well. Shutting the door quietly behind you. As you walked down the rows of pews the sight in front of you only deepened your need for him. Castiel, back turned to you, was praying to God for strength while gripping the table cloth like it was going to run away.
You cleared your throat and he took notice of you. His back straightened and he stopped gripping the table cloth and laid his hands flat on it, emulating control. He turned his head looking at you over his shoulder.
“Yes? What else can I help you with?” He kept his back to you trying to conceal his ‘problem’. You approached him, stopping only a couple steps away from him.
“What’s wrong, Father? You seem burdened.” You took one more step closer and you could feel him tensing up. “Is it something I said?” You feigned innocence, reaching out to place a hand on his back. Before you could make contact he turned around to face you. The eye contact was intense. His eyes contained so much emotion that it practically froze you into place. He grabbed your wrist and lowered your arm gently. You glanced down and then quickly back up. “It seems you do have a,” you smirked, “problem.”
“This is inappropriate.” He tried to back up but he was already fully against the table. “I am a man of God.”
“Even a man of God has needs, Father.” The allure in your voice called out to him. Everything in this moment made him feel incredibly human. “Would you allow me the pleasure of giving you such a release?”
This time it was him who moved. He was losing an internal battle and you could see it in the way he moved. Stiff and calculated. And yet you were so close your chests were almost touching, his hot breath could be felt against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut and a trembling hand cupped your face. His thumb traced your cheek gently, like you could break at any moment. Butterflies flitted around your stomach as the man who you yearned for was holding you like the most precious thing in the world.
Your eyes open to meet his. “I’m considering disobedience.” His eyes dropped to your lips. His tongue wet his own lips and left them slightly agape. His breathing quickened and his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head. “May God forgive me.” He sighed and leaned in.
The kiss was gentle, your lips barely touching at first. The hand behind your head pulled you closer. After a second he pulled away. Guilt spread across his face, his eyes searching yours for comfort. “I’m sorry.” He apologized softly, trying not to scare you away and his hands went back to his sides.
You looked back into his eyes just as feverishly as he was. “Dont.” Your voice was hoarse with desire and longing. You gently pressed your hips into his. “Just,” You cupped his face with both hands, “don’t.” There was a shift in his eyes as you gave him permission. No more guilt, no more conflict. Just want.
The redness of the room was almost enough to cover the blush cascading across his cheeks and ears. There was one thing the lighting couldn't hide and that was the problem growing in his pants only being contained by the black slacks he wore. His hands gripped your hips so hard the skin turned white under your pants and he tried to pull you as close as he could. The added friction led to a shaky breath escaping his lips. He willed his hips not to move, to not be so needy at some light pressure.
This time when he kissed you there was passion and hunger behind it. Like you were his first meal in days. One of your arms went to wrap around his neck, locking him in. Your hips rocked against his as a hand comes to grope your ass. Your free hand went to fumble with his belt. Impatience took over and his hands left your body, earning an annoyed groan from you, he undid his belt and slide it out of the belt loops. It hit the table with a soft clang as it fell to the floor forgotten. The kiss broke so you both could breath and he went to unbutton his pants. Frantically pulling the zipper down and only stopping to look in your eyes again. He swallowed hard.
“Please.”
That was all it took for you to sink to your knees, never breaking eye contact. You clasped your hands on his thighs. How could you deny him? Especially since he asked so politely.
His eyes went dark as he watched as you nuzzled against his leg, still looking up at him. A hand came up to palm his cock over the unzipped fabric. A harsh breath left his lips and a grin plastered itself on your face. Your name escaped his lips like a warning, urging you to go on- to finish what you had started. A hesitant hand came down to grab yours and lead it to the top of his boxers. His eyes asked for persmission while his lips were pressed into a fine line, trying to keep any sounds in.
It was cute how restrained he seemed and how he second guesses every action even though he desperately needs it. The desperation practically radiated off of him. You slowly slid your hands under the waistband in into his boxers tantalizingly slow. Your fingers wrapped around him at the same pace earning a jolt of his hips at the feeling. His hands went back to grip the edge of the table hoping to remain with some sort of control.
Deciding not to let him sit in limbo for too long, you pull his cock out of his boxers and give it a few light pumps. A low rumble started in his chest as his eyes flutter shut. You place light kisses starting at the base and working up to the tip. You let his cock rest against your cheek as you cupped his balls. There was a heat pooling in you, watching him come undone was doing something wicked to you.
“Does it feel good? Are you sure you want this?” His eyes opened and his hands comes to push a strand of hair out of your face and lingering there for a second.
“You are beautiful down there.” The compliment stirred something in you almost making you crazy. You needed him. Before you could get lost in fantasy his thumb and pointer finger when to grip your chin. “Now open up for me and be a good boy. Please.”
Your mouth opened almost on instict like your brain had turned off. You needed to be of service to him- to make him feel good. To make him feel a fraction of the pleasure that he gives you when you think of him at night. His hand leaves your face and he guides his cock to rest on your tongue. As soon as it made contact you wrapped your lips around the tip and licked it gently. He tried to contain himself, hand tangling in your hair pulling you close to him.
You began moving at a slow pace before speeding up; enjoy the low sounds you are managing to pull out of him. Your hands grip his thighs and he starts to rock his hips to meet you. You look up at him and moan around him. The light bouncing off of the sweat on his jaw, his head thrown back in pleasure, his chest heaving letting out a groans and whimpers. You could tell he wanted more to take control and you wondered how long it would take for him to give up this act of holyness and let himself be a man again.
Your questioned was answered sooner rather than later as the hand in your hair gripped your hair tight not letting you move. He was now gazing down at you with your mouth full of his cock and began thrusting at his own pace, simply using your mouth to get off. You relaxed your jaw and let him have his way with you. Tears streamed down your face as he shoved into you forcfully.
“I’m sorry.” He panted out as the wet sounds of you gagging on his cock filled the empty church. “It just feels so good. Too good.” His moans began to get louder as he neared the edge of release. Words of praise tumbled out of his mouth as he was lost in you.
You couldn’t resist the pleasure anymore, not when he sounds so pathetic. One of your hands left his thighs and went into your pants. You were so wet already from just giving him head. You began to rub fast circles around your clit causing you to moan around him. The pleasure from both the stimulation and from making Castiel unravel made your body feel like it was on fire.
“Oh my,” His hips stuttered in their pace as he noticed you touching yourself. “You feel so good. I bet you taste divine as well.” More compliments poured out of him as his paced became more frantic as he got closer and closer. Feeling how close he was to cuming made the pool of heat grow in your stomach.
“I’m gonna-,” before he could finish the sentence a warm sensation hit the back of your throat. A whimper left his mouth as he continued to lazely thrust into your mouth riding out his orgasm. The feeling of him fucking his cum down your throat sent you over the edge. Warmth spread through your body as a moan ripped itself from your chest. The light cascaded over both of you riding out your orgasm together.
He pulled out of your mouth and slowly started to situate himself again, making sure his pants were zipped and his shirt was tucked in properly. you're head and body felt fuzzy, you almost couldn't believe that this actually happened. Strong hands gripped your forearms and helped you up from the ground.
"Well Father," you leaned in, "did you see heaven?" A smile spread across your face teasingly.
Still struggling to catch his breath he managed to get a chuckle out. He reached forward and gently wiped some of his cum off of the side of your mouth with his thumb. He leaned his forhead against yours for a seconds. His breath slowly going back to normal as he came down fully from the high. He pulled away and placed a soft kiss on your forhead first then on the bridge of your nose gently. It was like he was scared you were going to disappear.
"Thank you." A soft smile formed on his lips. He smoothed out your hair, hoping to remove as much evidence as possible. He looked you over one last time opening his mouth like he wanted to say something and started to walk away. Your arms crossed as you watched him walk away. His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder getting on last look at you.
Finally putting my writing out there. I've been rewatching supernatural and couldn't not write that scene from S5EP18 from castiel's perspective.
Words: 722
“I gave everything for you and this is what you give to me!?”
A punch knocked Dean back as Castiel lifted his leg and kicked him into the metal fence. A paint grunt left his mouth as he tumbled to the ground. Calculated and restrained the angel made his way over to the man on the ground, only stopping as he was met with green eyes silently pleading with him. The expression on Castiel’s face did not change other than a slight jaw clench as Dean spoke.
“Just do it. Do it Cas!” A broken Dean called up from the filth of the alleyway. His eyes silently pleading for Casiel to end this. End this period of uncertainty. He could see the turmoil in Dean's eyes, the questions flooding around his brain. Would he be able to save Adam and take his place before it was too late? Would he be able to find a way to stop this? Would he be able to accept the role he was thrust upon him and kill his brother. Is any of this worth it to even try?
Castiel’s fist remained clenched and ready to swing again. The man in front of him was special, he felt it the moment he saved Dean from Hell. The angels always spoke of him as the means to an end, but their limited time together has shown him to be more than Heaven could ever understand. Yes this man is a soldier, but there is so much more. Humanity oozed off of him. He was crude and angry but he was also scared and full of love.
He thought he had everything figured out. Things were black and white for so long, he never knew there was any other option. The option to change things, to think for yourself and decide. Dean showed him things could be different, that things had to be different. He envied that Dean always had a choice, even now the Winchesters fought so hard to have a choice. That’s what enraged him so much- he had given up. The anger boiled in his stomach, a new sensation he has yet to get used to. He wanted to keep swinging, to release the pressure that built in his chest. He needed a release.
After everything that Dean presented himself to be, he just gave up. This could not have been for nothing. He had lost everything for the man infront of him and now he was begging to die. He wasn’t about to let it all go to waste. Why couldn’t Dean see that? Why couldn’t he see just how much he sacrificed for him? Why couldn’t he just get up.
Castiel took a breath and something else washed over him. Compassion. Dean was probably so tired from fighting everyday of his life and now he was faced with two options- let Michael use his body to kill his brother and cause the end of the world or let Michael use someone else to do it. Even as desperate to find some other way as they were it looked like there were no other options. That’s why even as betrayed as Castiel felt, his grip loosened. His hand relaxed, there had to be hope still. He started to move towards Dean, who braced for impact trying to prepare himself for anything. The angel reached a gentle hand out and placed the tips of his fingers on Dean’s shoulder, barely making contact. Sleep.
Castiel watched as his body slumped and landed with a small thud. Even when unconscious his face contorted with worry and fear. There had to be another way. There needed to be. There was too much riding on this. The love for humanity and the want for it to continue and flourish flooded his heart. For the first time in a while, he had faith. Not in God nor Heaven, but in the man unconscious in front of him. If anyone could figure out a way out of this it was him. As much as he may not like what he has to do, he was a fighter, and that is what the world needs right now. Castiel took a breath and lifted Dean up, leaning him on his shoulder. Determination radiated in him. They needed to fix this, and they would.
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