#Cas/Reader

[captainswhore]

i am a firm believer that the cod men like a spouse with a bush.... but i'm specifically thinkin about gaz.

he looks really clean- like, really, really clean. he's the type that, when he's home, showers twice a day and likes to feel clean and smell good. brings disposable wipes or baby wipes on missions to feel some semblance of that.

so, of course, when you walk in on him in the bathroom one day and see how squeaky clean he is, trimming his pubes before he hops in the shower, you get self conscious. he asks what's takin you so long in the shower after him because he just wants to cuddle once he's clean and home from a mission. he hears you yell "just a sec!" but puts his ear on the door and hears a "mother fu- how do pornstars do this? is it a regular waxing?" he's pushing the door open to see what the hell you're doing.

he finds you, basically doing the splits in the shower, trying SOOO hard to figure out where to even start to get your bush taken care of.

scoops his arm over the leg you have propped up on the tub, grabs a hold of you wherever you can reach when you start flailing, hears your razor clatter on the floor in your haste to grip onto him, and very (not) carefully, throws you on the bed. before you can even ask him what he's doing, he's got his head shoved in between your legs, takes one of your hands to rest on his head, and goes to TOWN. nothing can pull this man off of you.

"it's a personal preference luv," he says, when he leans back to take a breather from literally drowning in your cum, "that means personal.... i'm all for whatever you're comfortable with... don't change just cause you caught me shavin" and before you can even respond his fingers dig into that special spot inside you, and you cum so hard you basically see stars.

he tries to explain why he doesn't care about body hair on other people again, but he has to say it twice because you can't hear anything over your heartbeat in your ears and the panting you're doing after cummin that hard.

[cuntiel]

Castiel kinda looks like marlin from finding Nemo

[starmocha]

would you still love me if i was a worm? (and other thought-provoking questions) [Sylus/Reader ★ 2100 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] In which Sylus answers many meaningful drunken questions at 2 AM. A/N: Why have I been clowning on this man 🗿 lowkey based on this post I made before his release lol

It was rather common for Sylus to be up at 2 AM, since in his particular line of work, businesses were best done in the dead of night when most people would be asleep. It didn’t help that the N109 Zone was shrouded in eternal darkness at all times, so the entire concept of time felt rather meaningless to most citizens.

What truly was uncommon for Sylus was receiving a call from you at this time in the middle of the night when you should be slumbering away like most normal citizens. He stared at his phone screen where “Kitten” was so affectionately featured prominently onscreen along with his favorite photo of you. He swiped his thumb across the screen to answer the curious call. Nothing, however, could have prepared the leader of Onychinus with your desperate plea: “Crow Man, come pick me up, pleasssseeee!”

Sylus raised a brow as he held his cellphone tighter in his hand. “Crow Man?”

“Is this not Ca-Caw Man?”

“…are you drunk, sweetie?”

“Mr. Big Ca-Cawk, please pick me upppp!”

Sylus set his phone down on his desk and leaned back in his seat, already massaging his temple in slow circles. He had lavished you with such sweet pet names, and in your darling little head, you had just affectionately bestowed upon him the nickname…Big Ca-Cawk.

Sylus inhaled sharply.

He knew he let you get away with a lot of mischievous things, but perhaps this might be the one time he needed to put his foot down. He held his phone next to his ear again, hearing you sniffled:

“Caw-Caw, do you not like me anymore?”

Damn. You were good.

Sylus huffed softly, finding your drunken speech pattern rather endearing now. With a soft smile on his face, he spoke low, “Far from the truth, sweetie. Now, give me your address.”

You relayed to him the address of a late-night restaurant you were at in Linkon City.

“Stay safe,” Sylus responded, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

The call ended and Sylus heaved another heavy sigh before he stood up. He walked pass where Mephisto was roosting on his perch, and Sylus mumbled thoughtfully to the mechanical crow, “Maybe I should just assign you to monitor her 24/7 from now on.”

Mephisto tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by his owner’s odd words. He cooed quietly in response, watching as Sylus left.

With no speed limit in the N109 Zone, Sylus breezed through the city on his motorcycle in a matter of less than fifteen minutes. Through Linkon City, the street was mostly vacant, and he managed to avoid many of the cop hiding spots. It took him roughly another ten minutes to finally pulled up to the restaurant you said you were at.

As he parked his motorcycle, he took his helmet off, eyes instantly narrowing in anger when he noticed you were backed into a wall by a couple of sober sleazebags. Sylus started to walk up to you, his temper flaring when he heard your feeble protests:

“No…I don’t like this. Go away...”

“Aww, come on, sweetcheeks, you look like you could use a rest at a motel with us.”

“Yeah, it’d be in bad conscious of us if we leave a cute girl like you hanging around on the street like this—”

Sylus had heard enough. His hand tightened into a fist, and thick, dark tendrils wrapped around the two men’s necks, easily lifting them up and sending them hurtling down the block. When they gotten up, ready to assault their attacker, they were instantly frozen with fear from just a simple sharp glare from Sylus. He merely snapped his fingers and new tendrils shot straight down the block at the two men, the sight enough to send them running away in terror.

How fortunate for them. Sylus had other important things on his mind this particular night, or otherwise, he would have felt no qualms with ridding the world of two lowlifes.

When Sylus turned to look at you, his gaze softened considerably, a look of exasperation settled on his handsome features. He approached you slowly, his voice soft and gentle, “Sweetheart…”

His eyes widened in shock when you flung yourself against him, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. You sniffled softly, “Sy-Sy…”

Sylus regained his composure and he smiled down at your head, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. “So I am Sy-Sy now?”

He waited for you to calm down, speaking gentle, comforting words to ease your fears. When he noticed you appeared calmer, he led you to where he had parked. After handing you a helmet, he made sure your arms were wrapped tightly around his waist again before he took off, heading to your apartment.

Once he had arrived to your apartment building, he led you upstairs to your floor. He watched in amusement as you attempted to open the door, unable to get your thumb aligned correctly with the biometrics.

“Here,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist and guiding your thumb to match up with the small screen.

There was a click.

The door opened.

You stared in absolute awe. “Sy-Sy is so amazing…”

Sylus chuckled as he led you inside. “Sweetie, how much did you drink tonight?”

You shrugged. “It was Tara’s birthday…and it was our 5000th wanderer kill…and it was also pay day…and—”

Sylus immediately cut you off, laughing. “I get it,” he said, leading you to your bathroom to help you wash up, “You had a lot to celebrate today.”

He watched you smiled happily as you splashed some cooling water on your face. He helped you removed your jewelry before leading you to your bedroom. Sylus crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed you up and down in your black bodycon dress.

“Now, while I do appreciate seeing you in this dress,” he said with a teasing lecherous smirk, “I don’t think it’ll be comfortable to wear to bed, right?”

You giggled. “Nope!”

Sylus’ eyes widened, completely unprepared when you decided to shamelessly take the dress off yourself and flung it at a chair in your room. You smiled sweetly at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties.

Sylus covered his face, groaning softly. “This girl…” He took another look at you happily smiling away at him with not a single sober thought in your head. He turned away, mumbling, “Stay put.”

He sighed and walked into your closet, muttering to himself as he searched for some sleepwear for you, “You suck at drinking, sweetheart, and yet you let yourself get this drunk…”

After spending about five minutes of searching for some decent sleepwear, Sylus came back out to find you on the bed laying on your side, half-asleep. Sylus sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. He gently shook your shoulder. “Come on, sweetie, as cute as you look like that, you need to get dressed.”

You mumbled sleepily, and Sylus took it upon himself to help you get dressed in an oversized shirt and some shorts. This task felt rather foreign to him, since he was honestly more used to doing the complete opposite. As if reading his mind, you fell against him giggling again once you were fully dressed. “Are you going to take my bra off, too, Sy-Sy?”

He groaned again, his brain about to explode. “Sweetie, you are testing me.”

You giggled again and batted your eyelashes at him.

He smirked, slipping his hands under your shirt from behind and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side with your earlier abandoned dress. “It’s a good thing I am such a gentleman who doesn’t like taking advantage of intoxicated women.”

“Sy-Sy is the sweetest,” you agreed solemnly. You leaned up and clumsily kissed him, catching him off-guard for just a few seconds before he chuckled against the kiss, pecking your lips lightly. He pulled away first, amused when he saw your look of disappointment at how quickly the kiss ended.

Sylus pinched your cheek, eliciting a pained yelp that stirred you fully awake. “Next time, you are not allowed to get yourself drunk without me around,” he scolded you firmly, though his facial expression was more gentle than angry.

“But it was pay day…”

One sharp look from Sylus had you clamming up. When he turned away, you let out a soft whine, “Wait…are you leaving me?”

He turned back just in time to see a pout forming on your face. He sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, giving you a slow shake of his head. He knew he was coddling you too much tonight, but he couldn’t bear to leave you alone in such a disoriented state. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered with a smile, “I’m just going to turn off the lights.”

Once the lights were out, Sylus made his way back over to the bed. He chuckled in amusement as you scooted to the center, giving the empty space next to you an enthusiastic pat. Sylus climbed into bed, happy when you cuddled up to him.

“Caw-Caw, I have a question…”

“So it’s Caw-Caw again?” he asked bemused, and then muttered more to himself, “I think I’d rather you call me Sy-Sy instead… What is it, sweetie?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Sweetie, I would feed you to Mephisto,” he answered, not missing a single beat.

“Noooo…” you whined at him with tears brimming in your eyes. You weakly pawed at his arm with little fists, pleading, “Don’t feed me to Mephie…”

“Mephie?” he laughed, astonished that now you had taken the liberty of nicknaming his mechanical crow.

“I won’t taste good,” you insisted with a sweet pout.

“Personally, I think you taste divine,” Sylus teased with the double-entendre, but in your drunken state, you didn’t catch the double meaning. You could only sniffle sadly at him. He rubbed your cheek affectionately with the back of his hand, his crimson eyes seemed so bright in the darkness.

“Sy-Sy…”

“Hmm?” Sylus propped himself up on his elbow, his chin cradled in his hand as he peered down at you snuggled up close to him again.

“Where does the light go when you close the fridge door?”

“Drunk you is just full of silly questions, huh?”

You continued, not caring that he didn’t give you an actual answer to your previous inquiry, “Why do we make round pizza, put it in a square box, just to eat it as a triangle?”

Sylus blinked, sighing, feeling at a complete loss for words. “When you are sober, I’ll make sure to look up the answer for you, sweetie.”

“Sy-Sy?”

“What now?”

“Life is soup.”

Sylus raised his brow in complete confusion, not understanding a single damn word out of your mouth now. He didn’t even know how to respond to the odd comment, so he just continued to stare at you, hoping for a follow-up.

“And I am a fork.”

Sylus pulled you into his arms, laying on his back with you on top of him. “Alright, sweetie, it’s time for bed now.”

You giggled, rubbing your face against his soft shirt, inhaling deeply the faint scent of cologne on him. You sighed happily, smelling the familiar comforting, warm and woodsy fragrance on him. “Would you…” You yawned and rubbed your drowsy eyes, “love me if I shrink down to the size of your thumb?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll just have to keep you safe in my pocket.” Sylus brushed the flyaway hair away from your face, his expression tender as he gazed at your sweet, sleepy face resting on top of his chest. Even though he knew by morning, you wouldn’t remember a single thing from this night, Sylus still couldn’t help but voiced his thoughts and feelings aloud.

“I adore you,” he said, hushed, the weight of his words hung heavy in the stillness of the bedroom, “More than you will ever know.”

You yawned again, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “I love you, too, Mr. Big Ca-Cawk.”

Sylus could do nothing but laughed resignedly, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close to his body, the soft warmth of you against him was calming. Sylus felt a strange mixture of both happiness and bemusement by your drunk words, knowing your intoxicated state was also your most honest side, revealing to him the depths of your feelings for him. He kissed the top of your head, letting his eyes closed to rest as well, as he murmured, “Sweet dreams, you silly girl.”

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[majorpatheticcas]

May I have this dance? 🌹

"I gotta be honest with you, kid. I'm not the smoothest dancer, but hey, at least we're dancing, right?"

Anon design by: @htsan

[lila-lou]

✨Littlest Winchester✨

Summary: You were always all about Christmas, but this year your excitement was through the roof—mixed with a hint of nervousness. You had big news to share with Dean, and the thought of it made your heart race with both joy and a touch of fear.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: bit of Angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 8706

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

Dean groaned as you shoved him, shifting slightly before blinking awake. His arm instinctively reached back for you, but you were already halfway out of bed, practically buzzing with excitement.

“What the hell, Y/N”, he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s too early for this”.

You turned around, your grin widening as you saw his messy hair and the way he tried to bury his face back into the pillow. “It’s Christmas, Dean! Come on, get up!”.

He cracked one eye open, clearly unimpressed, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “You’re like a kid”, he muttered, but despite his grumbling, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

You laughed, pulling at his arm to try and drag him out of bed. “Exactly! And we’ve got a whole day ahead. Presents, food… everything”.

Dean groaned again, louder this time, and reached out his arm, trying to pull you back toward the bed. “C’mon, baby”, he muttered, his voice low and husky. “Just… five more minutes. It’s freezing out there, and this bed is perfect right now”.

You shook your head, laughing softly as he wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto the mattress. “Dean! We have the whole day! I don’t want to waste it”, you said, even as you felt his warmth surround you, making it harder to resist the temptation to stay.

He grinned lazily, clearly enjoying his victory as you reluctantly settled back beside him. “The day’s not going anywhere”, he murmured, his voice a little softer now. “Besides, Christmas can wait. Let’s just stay here… just a little longer”. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, and you could feel his breath against your neck as he nestled closer.

For a moment, you almost gave in. The way Dean held you, his warmth, the quietness of the room—it was all too comfortable. But then your excitement bubbled up again, and you gently nudged him. “Dean, come on”, you urged, trying to wiggle free from his grip.

Dean let out an exaggerated groan, burying his face deeper into the pillow as you tried to escape his grasp. “You’re killing me, Y/N”, he muttered, his arm tightening around you one last time before finally loosening his grip. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for the pie”.

You laughed, finally free as you sprang out of bed, your energy contagious. Dean rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head, watching you with a lazy smirk as you practically skipped around the room.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re excited”, he teased, his voice still thick with sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair as he sat up. “But if I don’t smell coffee in the next five minutes, you’re on your own”.

You shot him a playful glare before heading toward the door, the excitement bubbling up again.

Dean pulled on his sweatpants and a shirt, giving one last stretch before heading out of the room. He followed you quietly through the bunker, the coolness of the metal halls contrasting with the warmth of your festive decorations. You had spent weeks transforming the usually stark and utilitarian space into something that actually felt like Christmas—string lights hung from the walls, garlands draped over the railings, and a big tree sat proudly in the corner of the main room, covered in ornaments.

As Dean walked, he couldn’t help but smirk at how much effort you’d put into it. The bunker, usually so cold and impersonal, felt almost… homey. He’d never been one for Christmas decorations, but he had to admit, seeing the place like this wasn’t so bad.

When he finally reached the kitchen, you were already bustling around, pouring a mug of coffee and humming to yourself. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of cinnamon from a candle you had insisted on lighting every morning.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment. “You know, you’ve really outdone yourself with this whole Christmas thing”, he said, his tone half teasing, half genuine. “Didn’t think the bunker could look this… festive”.

You turned around, grinning as you handed him a mug. “Well, someone had to bring the holiday spirit. If it were up to you, we’d have nothing but a six-pack and maybe a couple of leftover slices of pizza to celebrate”.

Dean chuckled, taking the coffee gratefully. “Hey, nothing wrong with that. But I gotta admit, the tree’s kinda growing on me”.

That’s when Sam stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—because he had. He squinted at the lights. You could see him suppressing a yawn as he leaned against the counter, blinking at the sight of the two of you.

“Morning”, he muttered, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the coffee pot. “Knew I’d be dead if I slept in today”, he added with a smirk in your direction, his voice gravelly with sleep.

You grinned, lifting your mug in mock salute. “Damn right, Winchester. It’s Christmas, not time to laze around”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Sam pour himself some coffee.

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly as a mischievous grin crept onto his face. He leaned back against the counter, casually crossing his arms. “Speaking of lazing around, Dean, I didn’t think you’d even be up by now, considering you’ve got a whole new reason to stay in bed these days”, he teased, casting a glance your way.

Dean shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really, Sammy? That’s what we’re doing now?”.

Sam smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun at his brother. “What? I’m just saying, Y/N’s got you wrapped around her finger. I never thought I’d see the day Dean Winchester gets out of bed early on Christmas morning without complaining. Miracles do happen”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but you could see the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking, Sasquatch”.

Sam chuckled, clearly not done with the teasing. “I’m just saying, she’s got you doing things I never thought possible. I mean, you’re practically domesticated, Dean. Next thing we know, you’ll be cooking us a Christmas dinner and wearing an apron”.

Dean scoffed, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. “Yeah, right. Like I’d ever let you two anywhere near my cooking. And for the record, Y/N hasn’t ‘domesticated’ anything. I’m still the same badass I’ve always been”.

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully, crossing your arms. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember someone helping me hang Christmas lights last week without complaining once”.

Dean pointed at you, his grin widening. “Hey, I did that under protest, and I still managed to look cool doing it”.

Sam burst out laughing. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘cool’ like untangling lights and getting glitter all over yourself”.

You grinned, stepping closer to Dean and leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. “You’re still a badass”, you mumbled against his mouth, your hand resting on his chest.

Dean smirked, his eyes darkening playfully as he pulled you closer, his hand slipping to give your butt a squeeze. “Damn right I am”, he grumbled quietly, his lips brushing against your ear. “And tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much of a badass I really am”.

You blushed slightly, biting your lip, but before you could respond, Sam cleared his throat loudly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a spatula from the counter. “Alright, lovebirds. Save it for later”. He gave Dean a pointed look and shook his head, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dean just laughed, completely unbothered. “What? You’d understand if you weren’t such a giant prude”.

Sam chuckled and turned his attention back to the stove, where the eggs you’d been cooking were starting to sizzle. “Speaking of helping, you two might want to focus on breakfast before I have to scrape these off the pan”. He stirred the eggs, giving Dean a mock glare. “You’re not getting out of this one, man. You can help with breakfast if you’re not too busy being a badass”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more quick kiss, his lips lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. "Alright, alright", he muttered with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as you returned to the stove, taking over where Sam left off with the eggs. As you stirred them, you could feel Dean’s gaze still on you, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest. Sam was right—Dean might act tough and gruff most of the time, but with you, it was different. There was a softness he showed only around you, a vulnerability he never let anyone else see. And honestly, it felt good knowing you had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one else ever had.

Dean walked up behind you, resting his hand casually on the small of your back as he grabbed the coffee pot to refill his mug. "These eggs better be good, or you’re gonna have to explain to Sam why I’m stealing all the bacon later".

Sam snorted from the other side of the kitchen, glancing over with a smirk. "You’re such a drama queen, Dean. It’s breakfast, not a five-star restaurant".

"Hey, breakfast is important", Dean shot back, leaning against the counter with a mock-serious look. "And so is bacon. Especially on Christmas morning".

You laughed, shaking your head as you finished scrambling the eggs, the smell of food filling the bunker and blending with the warmth of the decorations around you. “Relax, Winchester. You’ll get your bacon”.

Dean raised his mug in a mock toast. “Now you’re talking my language”.

As Sam set the table, you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the scene—two brothers you cared about, a peaceful morning for once, and a Christmas that actually felt like something worth celebrating. Despite everything life threw at you, moments like this made it all worthwhile.

Just as you set the plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, a sudden whoosh of air filled the room, and before you could react, Jack appeared right in the middle of the kitchen, his usual bright smile lighting up his face.

“Good morning!”, Jack exclaimed, his excitement palpable. “Merry Christmas!”.

Dean nearly spilled his coffee, glancing up with a start. “Damn it, Jack! We’ve talked about the whole ‘teleporting without warning’ thing”.

Before Jack could respond, there was another rustle, and Cas stepped into the kitchen, as calm and collected as ever. “Dean”, he said in his familiar, gravelly tone, “we’re here for breakfast, not to startle you”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched Dean roll his eyes, clearly trying to keep his usual grumpy demeanor in place, though you could tell he was glad to see them. “Yeah, well, maybe next time use the front door like normal people”, Dean muttered, but his grin betrayed him as he waved them over.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the grumbling, beamed at the sight of the Christmas decorations you had put up. “Wow, Y/N! The bunker looks amazing! It feels so… festive!”.

You smiled, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks, Jack. Took a bit of work, but it’s worth it”.

Cas, standing beside Jack, nodded his approval. “It’s a significant improvement. Very… homey”.

Dean snorted, muttering under his breath, “Great, now even Cas is getting sappy”. But there was no hiding the fondness in his voice.

Sam grinned at Jack and Cas, pulling out chairs for them. “Perfect timing, guys. Y/N just finished making breakfast. You’re just in time”.

Jack’s eyes lit up as he sat down eagerly, glancing at the spread of eggs, bacon, and toast. “I love breakfast!”.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he sat down across from him. “Jack, you love every meal”.

Jack shrugged with a sheepish smile. “That’s true. But breakfast is especially good”.

Cas sat beside Jack, his eyes scanning the table thoughtfully. “I don’t require food, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll join you”.

Dean caught your eye as you both sat down, his hand brushing against yours under the table. He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in his gaze said it all: this, right here, was what mattered.

As the breakfast continued, the table filled with the sound of clinking forks and Jack excitedly recounting some recent stories, Cas began to grow unusually quiet. You noticed him eyeing you from across the table, his piercing blue gaze lingering on you with that familiar intensity that usually meant he had picked up on something. His brows furrowed slightly, and you bit your lip, silently hoping he’d just tune into Jack’s enthusiastic chatter.

But then, Cas tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as they dropped to your stomach. “Y/N”, he started, his voice cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere, “something feels… off”.

Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel Dean glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. Cas’ eyes were still fixed on you, a mix of confusion and concern etched across his face, and you knew he was sensing something that you weren’t quite ready to discuss. Not yet.

Cas opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything more, you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “Cas, could you help me with something in the library?”, you asked quickly, trying to keep your voice steady, but the urgency in your tone was hard to miss.

Dean’s gaze shifted fully to you now, his brows furrowing slightly. “Baby, you barely ate”, he said softly, nodding towards your plate that still had most of the eggs untouched.

You forced a small smile, your heart racing. “I’ll be right back. I just need to check something with Cas. Won’t take long”.

Jack, still caught up in his own world, barely seemed to notice the tension as he continued his story to Sam. But Dean wasn’t fooled, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward Cas, silently pleading with him to follow you without asking any more questions.

Cas stood slowly, his expression still unreadable but compliant, and followed you out of the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, you let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The last thing you needed was Cas revealing something in front of everyone before you even had a chance to wrap your head around it yourself.

Cas watched you with that deep, unblinking intensity, his hands still tucked into the familiar folds of his trench coat. The silence between you felt heavy, the air thick with the tension of unspoken words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, that angelic perception of his already picking up on things you hadn’t fully come to terms with yet.

And then it happened.

In the quiet stillness of the library, his gaze sharpened slightly. His head tilted once more, and his eyes flicked to your stomach. It was as though something invisible had clicked into place. The faintest sound of another heartbeat reached his celestial senses, soft yet distinct, tucked away beneath your own.

His eyes widened in realization, and he straightened up, his voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s… another heartbeat”.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as the reality of it hit you again. You hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t even allowed yourself to fully embrace it yet. But now, with Cas staring at you like he’d just uncovered a truth written in the stars, it was impossible to avoid.

Cas stepped closer, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and understanding. “Y/N… you’re pregnant”.

There it was—out in the open. The secret you had been carrying alone, unsure of how to even approach it. The words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy, as if they had the power to change everything.

You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to the floor as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “I—I found out a while ago. I haven’t told Dean yet”.

Cas watched you closely, his blue eyes filled with understanding as you hesitated. The weight of your secret had been building up inside you, and now that it was out in the open—at least with Cas—it felt like you were one step closer to facing it. But there was still the looming task of telling Dean, and that, above all, made your heart race.

You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you admitted, “I’m planning on telling him tonight”.

Cas nodded, his expression gentle and supportive. “That’s a good idea, Y/N. It’s important that he hears it from you, and in your own time”.

You bit your lip, feeling the nerves bubble up again. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment, the right words… but I don’t think there’s ever going to be a perfect time, is there?”.

Cas shook his head slightly. “No, but Dean will understand. He’ll want to be there for you, for both of you”.

You sighed softly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… it’s a lot. And with everything we’ve been through—demons, angels, hunting—it’s hard to imagine something like this fitting into our lives”.

Cas took a step closer, his presence calming. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. You’ve been through so much together, and this will be another challenge, but one filled with love. Dean will rise to the occasion”.

You smiled weakly, grateful for Cas’ steady reassurance. “Thanks, Cas. I really needed to hear that”.

Cas nodded, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips, a sight so uncommon that it momentarily eased the tension in your chest. It was reassuring, the way he could offer comfort without saying too much, just being present and understanding in his quiet, angelic way.

"You’re welcome, Y/N", he said softly, that smile lingering. "It’s going to be alright. You’re not alone in this".

You felt a surge of emotion at his words. Cas always had this way of making even the most overwhelming situations seem manageable, like everything was just part of a bigger plan. You were about to face one of the biggest moments of your life, but somehow, in this moment, with Cas standing there, it didn’t feel as impossible as it had before.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to bring it up", you admitted, a hint of nervousness creeping back into your voice. “Dean’s not exactly the best at handling surprises”.

Cas’ small smile grew slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “True, but he has a way of adapting, especially when it comes to you”.

You chuckled softly, rubbing your hands together nervously. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”.

Cas’ expression grew more serious again as he added, “Dean cares for you deeply. That won’t change, no matter what you tell him tonight”.

You nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. Tonight”.

You gave him a small, grateful smile and then glanced back toward the kitchen. "We should get back before Dean gets suspicious”.

Cas simply followed your gaze, and with a subtle shift of his posture, you both started making your way back to the kitchen. As you stepped inside, the sound of Jack’s laughter filled the room, and the warmth of the holiday decorations felt a little more comforting now.

Dean immediately looked up from his seat, his green eyes locking onto yours. His brow furrowed slightly, but he smiled, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always managed to make your heart skip a beat. “Everything good?”, he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.

You smiled back at him, nodding as you returned to your seat next to him. “Yeah, everything’s good”, you said softly, your hand finding his under the table again, needing that connection for just a bit longer.

Dean glanced between you and Cas but didn’t press further. Instead, he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture of quiet comfort.

The rest of the breakfast carried on with Jack and Sam exchanging stories, Cas chiming in now and then with his calm, straightforward insights. And while the atmosphere was light, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the conversation that was coming later.

As the day went on, the soft hum of holiday cheer filled the bunker. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, eagerly helping to wrap the last few presents, his excitement almost palpable as he concentrated on folding the wrapping paper with precision. “Do you think they’ll like them?”, he asked, glancing up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

You smiled warmly, watching him try his best to mimic the way you wrapped the gifts. “They’ll love them, Jack”, you assured him. “It’s the thought that counts, and you’ve put a lot of thought into these”.

Jack beamed, his joy infectious. “I hope so. I want this Christmas to be perfect”.

As you carefully taped the final gift, your eyes drifted over to Cas, who sat in the corner of the room, staring down at the bright red and green Christmas sweater you’d made him wear earlier in the day. It had a knitted image of a reindeer on it, complete with a blinking red nose, and while the sweater fit him perfectly, Cas looked incredibly out of place.

He tugged slightly at the fabric near his neck, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “This garment feels… unusual”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It’s supposed to feel a little weird. It’s a Christmas sweater, Cas. They’re meant to be festive, not comfortable”.

Cas raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I fail to understand how wearing this contributes to the holiday spirit”.

Jack looked up from his wrapping and grinned. “It’s part of the tradition, Castiel. You wear silly clothes, eat too much food, and spend time with the people you care about. That’s the spirit of Christmas”.

Cas glanced at Jack, his confusion softening into contemplation. “I see”, he murmured, his eyes moving down to the blinking reindeer on his chest once more. “It is… rather distracting”.

You chuckled, moving to sit beside him for a moment. “You’re doing great, Cas. You’re embracing the whole Christmas thing, and that’s what counts”.

He nodded slowly, though his fingers continued to tug at the sweater, as if he were still trying to understand its purpose. “I suppose if it makes everyone happy, I can tolerate it for a little while longer”.

Jack beamed at Cas, clearly pleased that he was trying to join in. “It looks good on you, Cas. Really festive!”.

Cas gave a small nod of acknowledgment but looked a little like he’d rather be anywhere else than wearing that sweater. Still, it was a rare moment of levity in their otherwise intense lives, and you were glad to see him at least making an effort.

The day passed peacefully, the bunker filled with laughter and quiet conversation. Sam and Dean had gone out to get the final groceries for dinner, leaving you with some much-needed quiet time to prepare mentally for the conversation you were planning to have later.

Just as you began peeling potatoes for dinner, the sound of Jody’s familiar voice echoed through the bunker, followed by the laughter and chatter of her girls, Claire and Alex.

Cas, Jack, and Sam were quick to step outside to help unload the car. From the doorway, you could see Jack’s enthusiasm, practically bouncing on his heels as they brought in armfuls of presents from the back of Jody’s truck.

You smiled to yourself, grateful for the warmth that filled the bunker today. It wasn’t just the twinkling lights or the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background; it was the people—this makeshift family that had come together, in all their strange, supernatural, and human ways.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, strong and familiar. Before you could react, Dean’s hands slid around your waist, splaying across your belly as he pressed his body close to yours. His lips found the side of your neck, leaving soft kisses that sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Hey”, he whispered against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “You’ve been running around all day. Figured I’d steal a minute”.

You exhaled, momentarily forgetting about the potatoes as you leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands spread through you. His fingers brushed against your belly gently, and for a second, a rush of nerves tightened your chest. He didn’t know yet, and his hands were right there, resting over the secret you hadn’t yet shared.

Dean must have felt the shift in your body because he paused, his lips still on your neck but now still. “You okay, sweetheart?”.

You forced a smile, even though your heart raced beneath your chest. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything we have to get done”.

He chuckled, clearly not suspecting anything. “You’ve got this”, he said confidently, his hands giving your stomach a soft squeeze before he moved his lips to your ear. “And later tonight, we’ll make some time for just us. Sound good?”.

Your breath caught again, not from his words but from the weight of what you knew you had to tell him. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah”, you whispered. “Later”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more lingering kiss on the neck before pulling back. "You need any help here?", he asked, nodding toward the potatoes you’d been peeling, but before you could answer, Jody stepped into the kitchen with her usual air of confident warmth, followed closely by Alex, both clearly ready to jump in and take over.

Jody smiled as she caught sight of Dean standing so close to you. “I think you’ve got enough on your plate, Dean”, she teased lightly, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you let the ladies handle dinner, and you can make yourself useful elsewhere?”.

Dean chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You know where to find me if you need the real help”.

Jody rolled her eyes playfully before turning toward you. “Looks like we’ve got things covered in here, Y/N. What do you say we get this show on the road?”.

You gave her a grateful smile as Alex moved to your side, eager to pitch in. "Sounds good to me".

Before Dean could make another comment, Jody pointed toward the door, a mischievous grin on her face. "Dean, why don’t you, Sam, Cas, and Claire set up the tables in the library for dinner? I want it to look nice. You boys can handle a little decorating, can’t you?".

Dean snorted. “Decorating? Uh, sure, we’ll handle it”.

Claire, who had just come in, overheard Jody’s instructions and immediately protested. "Decorating? Seriously, Jody?", she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You know I’m not exactly the Martha Stewart type".

Jody shot her a mock-serious look. "It’s Christmas, Claire. And you’re part of this family, which means you help".

Claire grumbled under her breath, but the small smile playing at her lips told you she wasn’t really upset.

Dean, hearing her complaints, threw an arm around Claire’s shoulders as they both walked out of the kitchen. “Come on, kid. We’ll make Cas do the heavy lifting. You and I can just supervise”.

Claire smirked, shaking her head but following along anyway, while you could hear Sam and Cas joining in, their voices fading as they headed toward the library.

With the boys and Claire out of the kitchen, the room settled into a comfortable hum as you, Jody, and Alex set to work on dinner. The smell of freshly peeled potatoes filled the air as you and Alex continued prepping, while Jody took command of the oven, expertly sliding in a tray of seasoned vegetables.

“So”, Jody said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow as she wiped her hands on a towel. “How are you holding up? Got a lot on your mind, I bet”.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand pausing mid-peel, before you nodded. “Yeah… you could say that”.

Jody gave you one of her knowing looks, that calm, motherly intuition she always carried. “Anything you want to talk about?”.

You smiled softly, appreciating the offer, but shook your head. “Not right now. But… thanks, Jody”.

She nodded, not pressing, but you could tell she understood. "Whenever you're ready".

Alex, sensing the shift in conversation, changed the subject, her voice bright as she asked about dessert ideas. The easy banter and lighthearted chatter that followed made you feel a little more grounded, and soon, the rhythm of preparing the Christmas feast fell into place, calming your nerves.

As you worked alongside Jody and Alex, you could hear occasional bursts of laughter coming from the library, a sure sign that the boys—and Claire—were enjoying their task despite the initial complaints. You couldn’t help but smile, imagining the chaos they were creating while attempting to set up the dinner tables.

Tonight was still hanging over you, but for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. The warmth, the laughter, the love that filled the bunker—it was all the reassurance you needed. Whatever came next, you’d face it surrounded by the people who had become your family.

Two hours later, the whole group was gathered around the large table in the library, now decorated with Christmas lights and a mix of festive table settings. Laughter and conversation filled the room, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere that made the bunker feel more like a real home. The scent of roasted vegetables, savory meat, and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as everyone dug into the Christmas dinner you had all worked so hard to prepare.

You sat between Dean and Sam, your plate in front of you looking more full than it should, considering the slight wave of nausea that had settled over you. Despite your best efforts, eating wasn’t coming as easily as you’d hoped. It was frustrating, really—you felt like you were starving, but every bite seemed to turn heavy the moment it hit your stomach. Still, you kept a huge smile plastered across your face, determined to enjoy the moment.

As Jody regaled the group with stories from her last Christmas with Claire and Alex, everyone at the table was engaged, laughing and reacting to her animated storytelling. Claire rolled her eyes playfully at some of the more embarrassing details, but there was no denying the affection in her gaze as she listened to Jody.

“And then”, Jody continued, gesturing wildly with her fork, “Claire decided it would be a great idea to chop down her own Christmas tree—without telling me. She borrowed my axe and came back with this tiny, crooked thing. Looked like Charlie Brown’s tree on a bad day”.

Everyone erupted in laughter, Claire groaning dramatically as she covered her face with her hands. “It wasn’t that bad!”, she protested, but the grin on her face betrayed her.

Alex chimed in, laughing, “Oh, it was that bad. You’re lucky it didn’t fall over on us while we were decorating it”.

Dean chuckled beside you, shaking his head. “Sounds like Claire and I would’ve gotten along just fine as kids”.

“Of course you would”, Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Mischief attracts mischief”.

You laughed along with them, though you could feel your stomach turning slightly as you pushed some mashed potatoes around your plate. Dean, ever observant, glanced at you between bites, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

“Hey”, he said quietly, leaning in so only you could hear. “You okay? You’ve barely touched your food”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you offered him a reassuring smile, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not as hungry as I thought I’d be”.

Dean studied you for a moment, his hand resting gently on your knee under the table. He didn’t press further, though, which you appreciated. Instead, he gave your leg a soft squeeze before turning back to the conversation, his worry still lingering just beneath the surface.

As the evening went on, you focused on the stories and laughter around you, feeling the love and joy that filled the room. Jack, seated between Cas and Sam, was practically glowing with excitement, his eyes wide as he listened intently to each person who spoke, soaking in the warmth of the holiday spirit like it was something magical.

Occasionally, you managed a few bites of food, but the queasiness never quite went away. Still, the happiness of the evening made it easier to push the discomfort aside. Jody’s stories continued, one after another, each more hilarious than the last, and soon the entire table was in fits of laughter.

“I swear”, Jody said, wiping a tear from her eye as she finished another tale, “Christmas with these girls is never boring. If it’s not Claire taking an axe to a tree, it’s Alex burning cookies in the oven”.

Alex gasped in mock offense. “That was one time, Jody!”.

Sam grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like a Winchester Christmas, alright”.

Dean chuckled, but his attention shifted to you again, his hand still resting gently on your leg. He shot you a quick glance, as if making sure you were really okay, but before he could say anything, Jody changed the subject, pulling him back into the conversation.

For now, you kept your smile in place, the weight of your secret heavy in your heart.

The mood in the library was warm and festive as everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, glowing with twinkling lights. The bunker’s cold, utilitarian vibe had completely transformed into something that resembled a cozy family living room. Armchairs and smaller couches were draped around the tree, but despite the available space, Dean pulled you into his lap, grinning as he wrapped an arm around your waist, claiming you as his own little piece of Christmas comfort.

“Gotta save space, right?”, Dean teased, giving you a playful squeeze. You settled into him, your nerves still fluttering as you kept the small, tightly wrapped frame in your hands. You felt the solid weight of the secret within, the truth you were about to share, but you kept it to yourself for now, waiting for the right moment.

On the floor in front of the tree, Jack sat cross-legged, his eyes bright with excitement as he carefully picked up gifts, handing them out with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. Sam sat nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the scene with a fond smile. Claire and Alex were already ripping into their presents, while Jody smiled from the armchair, enjoying the chaos that had taken over the normally quiet bunker.

Dean, of course, had his focus on you, even as he tore into the gifts Jack handed him. His laughter filled the room as he opened a box from Sam containing a brand-new set of tools. “Knew I could count on you for the practical stuff”, Dean joked, giving Sam a wink.

You smiled softly, watching Dean enjoy the moment, but your heart raced as the small frame in your hands grew heavier. You could feel the ultrasound picture inside, the words Littlest Winchester written across the frame. You had thought about this moment a hundred times, imagined how it would go, but now that you were here, sitting on Dean’s lap, surrounded by the people you loved, you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest.

Jack continued handing out gifts, his excitement infectious as he passed a wrapped present to Cas, who opened it slowly, carefully peeling away the paper. Dean’s hands, however, rested lightly on your hips, and you could feel his attention shifting back to you between each gift. He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes, like he knew something was on your mind.

Dean leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You alright, sweetheart? You’ve been a little quiet”.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the right moment”.

Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, he turned his attention back to the last few gifts Jack was handing out. But you could feel his curiosity piqued—he knew something was up, but he was giving you space.

Finally, all the presents were opened, and the room was filled with the sounds of laughter, wrapping paper scattered across the floor. Dean leaned back, his arm still securely around your waist as he admired the various gifts he had received. “This was a damn good Christmas”, he said, his voice content. “You outdid yourself this year”.

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you held the small frame tighter in your hands. This was it. The right moment had arrived, and there was no turning back now.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly shifted in Dean’s lap, turning to face him slightly. “Dean”, you started softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I have one more gift for you”.

His eyes lit up with curiosity as he tilted his head. “Another one? You’re spoiling me, sweetheart”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. With trembling hands, you passed him the small, neatly wrapped frame. Dean looked down at it, his brow furrowing slightly as he took it from you, clearly sensing the significance behind it.

His fingers brushed against the wrapping paper as he tore it open, his usual playful smirk giving way to something more serious as he carefully peeled back the layers. When the frame finally emerged, his eyes immediately dropped to the image inside.

Dean froze.

His hand tightened around the frame, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the ultrasound picture. The words Littlest Winchester written across the top of the frame seemed to echo in the air between you. For a moment, everything else in the room faded away—Jack’s chatter, Claire’s teasing, even the warm glow of the Christmas tree seemed to disappear as Dean stared at the image in front of him.

His voice, when it finally came, was rough, barely a whisper. “Is this…?”.

Dean’s world seemed to stop as he stared at the ultrasound picture, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes wide with disbelief and something else—something deeper, rawer. Right now, in this moment, it was as if the rest of the room had faded away. It was just you and him.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling inside of you. You bit your lip, your fingers trembling as you twisted them together anxiously in your lap. How would he react? This wasn’t planned. Hell, you’d been on the pill, doing everything right, and yet somehow this happened.

You had known that Dean always wanted kids, deep down. You had seen it in the way he looked at families whenever you passed them on the road, in the rare quiet moments when he let his guard down and talked about what could have been. But with his lifestyle—your lifestyle—it always seemed like an impossible dream. The topic had always been brushed off, a “what if” too dangerous to entertain.

Now, it wasn’t a “what if” anymore. It was real. It was happening. And you were terrified of how he might respond.

Tears welled in your eyes, your vision blurring as you nodded slowly, unable to find the strength to look at him. You stared down at your hands, twisting your fingers together as the silence stretched on, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

“I—I didn’t know… I was on the pill. I don’t know how this happened, but… it did”, you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears spilled over.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for us, for everything. I just… I know it’s not what we planned, and I don’t know how you feel about it…”.

Your voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—afraid that the dream you hadn’t let yourself believe in might come crashing down.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, you felt Dean’s hand move from the frame. His fingers found yours, gently prying your hands apart and wrapping them in his. His touch was warm, grounding you, and with that simple gesture, your heart clenched.

“Sweetheart”, Dean’s voice was low, thick with emotion as he finally spoke, and you could hear the slight tremble in it. He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Look at me”.

You hesitated, but the softness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, made you brave enough to lift your gaze to meet his. When you finally did, the sight of his eyes—wide, filled with awe and love, and glistening with unshed tears—took your breath away.

“You’re pregnant”, he whispered, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the reality of it. “We’re having a baby”.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but was still too overwhelmed to fully let it through. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge everything you were feeling, trying to make sense of this new reality.

You nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, Dean. We’re having a baby”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand still rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, grounding you both in this new, terrifying, and beautiful reality.

And then, suddenly, Dean let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into the kind of smile you had rarely seen from him—one of pure, unfiltered joy. A small laugh escaped him, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

“We’re having a baby”, he repeated, this time with more conviction, his voice filled with wonder. “Holy crap”.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You could feel the way his heart was racing, how overwhelmed and overjoyed he was, and it made the tears spill from your eyes all over again.

“I love you”, Dean murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I love you so much. I don’t care how it happened, I don’t care about the rest. This—this is the best damn Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten”.

You let out a sob of relief, burying your face into his chest as you held onto him, your fingers gripping his shirt as you let the emotions wash over you. All the fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty—it all melted away in his embrace.

Dean kissed the top of your head, holding you close as you both stayed like that for a long moment. Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your face wet with tears, but your heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

“Are you… are you really okay with this?”, you asked softly, still needing to hear it, still needing that final reassurance.

Dean’s eyes softened as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “More than okay”, he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve never been more okay with anything in my life”.

Dean pulled you in even tighter, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss that carried all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. His hand cradled the back of your head as if to ground both of you in the moment, making you feel safe, loved, and cherished. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky but filled with happiness.

Without even glancing away from you, Dean blindly handed the framed ultrasound to Sam, who had been watching the two of you closely. “Hey, Sammy, check this out”, Dean muttered, his voice still thick with awe and emotion.

Sam took the frame gingerly, his brow furrowing in confusion at first as he glanced down. But when he saw what was in his hands, his expression shifted, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what he was looking at. “Holy crap���, Sam whispered, his voice echoing Dean’s earlier reaction.

The room, which had grown quiet as everyone observed the moment between you and Dean, suddenly erupted in soft gasps and murmurs as Sam held up the frame for everyone to see.

Jody’s eyes lit up with a wide smile, and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Claire and Alex exchanged looks, their usual tough exteriors softening into grins. Jack, sitting cross-legged on the floor, beamed, his face lighting up with pure joy. Even Cas, who had been quietly observing from the corner, allowed a rare smile to spread across his face, understanding the gravity of the moment.

Dean’s hand never left yours, his eyes locked on you as if he still couldn’t believe what was happening. “We’re really doing this”, he whispered softly, his voice full of love and a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from flowing again, though this time they were tears of relief, happiness, and excitement for the future. “Yeah, we are”.

Sam, still holding the frame, finally found his voice again. “Dude, this is… this is incredible”. he said, his voice cracking slightly as he looked between you and Dean, his eyes misting over with pride. “I’m gonna be an uncle”.

Jody stood from her seat, stepping forward with a huge smile. “You two are going to be amazing parents”, she said warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. “This kid is already so loved”.

Claire let out a dramatic sigh from across the room, but there was no mistaking the affection in her tone. “Great, another Winchester to look after”, she teased with a smirk. “Just what we needed”.

Alex nudged Claire, rolling her eyes but laughing along. “Like you wouldn’t be first in line to babysit”.

Dean’s hand slowly wandered over your stomach, resting there as if he was already bonding with the little life growing inside you. He kept you close, his thumb lightly brushing your belly in a gentle, unconscious motion, and it sent a warmth through your entire body.

Then he looked over at Claire with that classic Dean Winchester smirk, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you better believe you’re first in line for babysitting, Claire. You and Alex. It’s a Winchester tradition—gotta get you trained up for the dirty work early”.

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically, but her smile gave her away. “Yeah, right. I can already see it now—Dean and Y/N sneak out for a ‘quick hunt’ and I’m stuck with diaper duty”.

Dean chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “That’s the spirit! You’ll be a pro in no time, kid”.

Alex laughed from beside her, nudging Claire again. “Face it, Claire, you’re going to be Auntie Claire before you know it”.

Claire’s expression softened slightly, her tough exterior cracking just a little. “Yeah, well… I’ll do it, but only for the kid. Not for you, Dean”, she teased, crossing her arms.

Dean grinned, squeezing you closer as he shot Claire a wink. “Fair enough”.

Jack, who had been quietly observing with wide eyes, piped up from his spot on the floor. “I can help, too! I’ll keep the baby entertained, maybe teach them some… cool tricks”.

The entire room burst into laughter at that, and Dean’s hand squeezed your belly a little more, pulling you back into his chest with a look of mock concern. “Whoa, whoa, Jack. No angelic tricks around the baby just yet. We’re gonna need to stick with the basics first—like peek-a-boo, not teleporting”.

Jack nodded seriously, though the excitement in his eyes didn’t dim. “Right. No teleporting. Got it”.

Sam, still holding the framed ultrasound, smiled warmly as he watched the whole exchange, his gaze eventually landing back on you and Dean. “This kid’s going to be surrounded by more love—and more chaos—than it´ll know what to do with”.

Dean’s eyes softened as he met Sam’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling in once again. “Yeah”, he agreed, his voice quieter, more serious now. “That’s what family’s for, right?”.

You could feel Dean’s arm tighten around you protectively, and you leaned into him, feeling the overwhelming love and joy radiating from him. For so long, the idea of having a family seemed like an impossible dream for both of you, something that had been pushed aside in the face of all the danger and uncertainty. But now, sitting here surrounded by the people you loved, the dream was real.

Dean glanced down at you, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach, his expression softening into something deeper. “We’re really doing this”, he repeated, more to himself than anyone else, his eyes shining with quiet wonder.

You nodded, your hand resting on top of his as you smiled through your tears. “Yeah, Dean. We are”.

And in that moment, surrounded by your family and the warm glow of Christmas lights, everything felt right—like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The future, as uncertain as it always seemed, felt full of hope and love. And as Dean held you close, his hand never leaving your belly, you knew that no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[prythianpages]

I Put A Spell On You | Acotar x Witch Reader

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[season of the witch masterlist]

summary: You, a witch, perform a ritual over your mate.

warnings: witchy rituals, Az being smitten with Green Witch, suggestiveness for Cas's bc he's horny for Love Witch, and a bit of Eris being soft for his Chaos witch.

a/n: Happy Summerween! This is inspired by the meme "hot witch wife and me doing whatever the hell she wants" that came from the gif above. Only Azriel, Cassian and Eris are included in this. Idek if these count as drabbles since each one is roughly a little longer than 1K but oh well lol.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

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Azriel x Green Witch

Candles were lit and placed carefully around the room, casting a warm glow that danced with your every movement. You knelt in the center, drawing a chalk circle with meticulous care. Your eyebrows knitted together, focus unwavering.

A sight that had Azriel’s gaze softening as he watched you from where he stood. His shadows flitted around him, singing in content. Precious, they whispered. Yours. The corner of his lips tugged up into a faint smile. Ours. His shadows were just as smitten with you as him.

"Azriel," you called softly as you shifted into a kneeling position.

He stepped forward, shadows shuddering under the force of your magic as he crossed the chalk circle. Kneeling before you, his gaze flickered to the tray between you, filled with an assortment of herbs, shimmering crystals, and freshly cut dandelions. Through the bond, he could feel your anticipation and nervousness humming like a vibrant current. He sent a soothing wave of calm your way, reveling in the way your muscles seemed to relax.

Lighting the candle on the tray with your magic, you finally look up and meet Azriel’s gaze. A faint blush colors your cheeks at what you find in those hazel eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?" 

“Because you’ve bewitched me.”

You lifted a brow. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh, but you have.” He grinned, hazel eyes sparkling. “Just being you is enough.”

“Don’t distract me,” you admonished, though your voice lacked firmness, and the blush on your face deepened. “I could be casting a hex on you for all you know… what if I were cursing you into a toad?”

“I’d croak only for you.”

“And if I jinxed you with a body-bind curse that would immobilize you?”

Azriel tilted his head, his eyes boring into yours with a challenge. “So that I’d never leave your side…Are you sure that’s a curse?”

You stared back at Azriel, eyes narrowing in skepticism. But he doesn’t waver. You’re certain he doesn’t even blink, and the sincerity radiating from him sends a wave of warmth through your heart. He’d let you do anything to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you finally replied, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And you’re adorable,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending delightful shivers down your spine. 

Before his hand could fall back to his side, you reached out for it and laced your fingers through his, smile widening when one of his shadows wedges itself through the cracks.  “Will you let me focus now?”

Azriel gives your hand a squeeze, silently commanding the shadow between your fingers to return to him. With a wave of your other hand, your spellbook came flying to you from your desk in the corner. In a whirl of green, the pages began to turn, your eyes darkening as they searched for the spell in mind.

“What is this spell for anyway?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, realizing he had no clue as to what this ritual of yours entailed. When he told you he was going on a long mission–a full week–and you had asked if you could try something, he had simply said yes.

Darkness fully consumed your eyes, the turning pages coming to a stop. He doesn’t flinch when your dark eyes look up to his. To him, they were just another beautiful part of you that he loved.  “It’s a small binding spell for protection. It’s like a stepping stone for the spell I want to cast after our mating ceremony.”

“And no, I won’t tell you what that one is because it’s a surprise.” You added after sensing the next question ready to roll off Azriel’s tongue.

Azriel let out a small huff. He doesn’t like surprises but you’re stubborn and unwavering. At the slight pout of his face, you bring his hand to your mouth and brushed your lips against his fingers. The subtle twitch of his right wing betrayed him, making you smile. 

“Now, sit back on your heels and relax.” You instructed, taking his other hand in yours so both hands held his.

Azriel’s wings curled in slightly, the dark talons lightly grazing the floor. His shadows quieted, resting against his neck and lap. You gave both of his hands a squeeze before you began to murmur a chant, your voice soothing and melodic. The flames surrounding you both danced higher, responding to your magic.

Your magic enveloped you both, swirling along the line of your circle and casting a shimmering green glow upon the room. The magic from Azriel’s cobalt blue siphons sang in response, fluttering toward your emerald light and intertwining with it, just like your fingers are with his.

The combined force of your magic sent a cool gust of air your way, making your hair sway gently. The dandelions between you both seemed to awaken with a life of their own, the pappus carrying their seeds stirring. A tender flutter of warmth rose from Azriel’s stomach as the dandelions began to rise, his mind flashing back to that day in the field of dandelions when your laughter had filled the air.

The feathery plumes floated in the air between you both, carrying promises in the wind of your magic.They wrapped around your intertwined hands, morphing into a golden thread in a burst of bright light. Azriel eyes filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper that made your heart race. It prompted you to close your eyes, not wanting to be distracted as you whispered the last words of the spell.

When you finished, the room fell into a calm silence. You opened your eyes, and Azriel watched as the darkness lifted from them, smiling as you were brought back to him.

Azriel rises first so that he can guide you to your feet. His hands don’t let go of yours. Though it’s time for him to leave for his mission, his shoulders feel light. As if a huge weight has been lifted off and he feels something he’s never felt before–an overwhelming sense of safety. Even his shadows seemed to give a sigh of relief.

Resting his forehead against yours, he takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I’ll come home to you as soon as I can. Crawl if I have to.”

“You won’t have to,” you promised, looking up at him. “You’ll come home to me unscathed and we’ll have our mating ceremony. Then, I’ll show you my surprise.”

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, the promise of your future together shimmering like the magic lingering in the air.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian’s head tilted back in pleasure, his large hands falling to your hips. Your lips found purchase against the newly exposed skin of his neck, slowly working your way up. He let out a deep groan when you grinded down against him, his hands kneading into you to press you further onto his growing bulge.

“Sweetheart–”

“Can I–” 

“Yes.”

You let out a breathless giggle, pulling back to look down at your mate, your heart shaped pupils making an appearance. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Well, let’s fix that?” He smirked at you, his hand sliding up your shirt.

“I want to try something.”

“Anything,” Cassian replied, eyes hooded with lust, before chasing after your lips.

You placed a finger against his lips, stopping them from meeting yours and when your lips curved into a devious grin, Cassian realized you were not talking about sex.

“I want to cast a spell on you, perform a ritual.”

His throat bobbed. “A ritual?”

“Mmm,” you replied, shifting in his lap as you cradled his face into your hands. “One I can only perform when the recipient is in love with me. It makes my love potions more potent. I’ve never tried it before but I’d like to. It’ll be fun…”

Cassian searched your face, eyes narrowing at you. “Fun in what sense?”

“Fun in the sense that it’ll make you feel real, real good,” you replied, hands falling to his chest slowly snaking their way upwards to run down his back and teasing at the area where his wings meet his skin. His wings shuddered, his arousal filling the air.

“Only if I get to make you feel real, real good after.” His hands guided you to circle your hips over his lap again, eliciting a soft moan out of you as you felt his desire for you.

“Deal.”

**

Cassian watched as you moved about your spell room with a grace and purpose that made his heart swell with pride. Since you had become a couple, your magic had been steadily returning to its former strength. It seemed that all you needed was to believe in yourself for your magic to flourish again.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d work your magic on him but it was the first time you’d perform a ritual on him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he laid down in the center of the circle you had drawn. His wings, arms and legs were splayed out in a relaxed yet expectant manner.

You sprinkled salt around the circle, its crystals catching the fae lights hanging above and adding a shimmering boundary. Then, with a dash of cinnamon, Cassian’s nose wrinkled, the warm, spicy scent teasing his senses. As you scattered rose petals along the floor, Cassian’s eyes followed you, tracking your every movement. 

“How does this work again?” 

You made your way towards Cassian, your feet stopping right at his head as you peered down at him. “It’s simple. You think about me and only me—”

“Easy.” He smirked up at you.

With a playful wink, you threw a handful of rose petals at him.  “—while I chant a spell. Your feelings will manifest into a tangible energy that I can then work with and stir into my potion.” You explained as you added drops of honey and more cinnamon to the brewing potion in the cauldron at the edge of the circle, the mixture bubbling softly.

“But what if I accidentally think of other things?” Cassian couldn’t help but ask. 

His thoughts did tend to drift away often, usually to not so innocent thoughts of you. However, there were the occasional random ones such as what he’d be having for dinner, the  result of the loud instrument he had gifted Nyx on his birthday or what would make Azriel tick next.

“Then, the cauldron will tip over angrily over your defiance to love me.”

He lifted his head slightly from the ground, relief bringing it back down when he saw you were joking.

“Just don’t think of anything negative. Otherwise, you’ll mess with the spell.” You reassured.

“Okay, got it! I can definitely do that. Think positive thoughts.” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration but then another thought came to mind and once again, he was lifting his head from the ground.

 "And why am I shirtless?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Oh that," you grinned back at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.  "That's for my own entertainment."

You began the ritual by lighting candles placed at each cardinal point of the circle. You then took a small, ornate vial from a nearby table, filled with a shimmering liquid—the essence of moonlight collected during the last full moon. You carefully poured a few drops into the cauldron, causing the potion to glow.

As you started chanting the spell, the energy in the room seemed to shift and intensify. Cassian closed his eyes, focusing on his love for you, letting the emotion swell within him. You placed your hands gently on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. 

“Stay still.”

“Your hands are cold and it tickles.” Cassian breathed but did his best to not move.

The air around you crackled with energy like a steady, burning hearth. The pink thread of magic began to weave itself around Cassian, glowing brighter with each passing moment. The connection between you two was palpable, a current of love and magic flowing freely. You could feel his love transforming into a tangible force, ready to be harnessed for your potion.

As the final words of the spell left your lips, you gathered the energy with a sweeping motion of your hand, guiding it into the cauldron. The potion bubbled vigorously for a moment before settling into a golden liquid, infused with the power of your love and Cassian’s devotion.

You looked down at Cassian, who opened his eyes and met your gaze. “There,” you said softly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Cassian replied, his entire body humming with a pleasant warmth. He felt good, real good. Just as you had said. He reached up and gently pulled you down for a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “You’re amazing.”

Then, he flipped you over, positioning you on the ground beneath him as he hovered above you. His gaze darkened, love and lust simmering in those hazel eyes. “Now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Lost in the promise of pleasure, you failed to close the ritual and your brewing love potion bubbled, turning into something more sensual…

Eris x Chaos Witch

Eris entered the dimly lit chamber, the hair on the back of his neck rising at the sudden chill in the air. The sensation, once unsettling, now was a welcomed embrace, a whisper of the magic that thrived in these walls. He closed the door behind him.

It was only then that he allowed his shoulders to sag, burdened by the heavy yet long desired mantle of his new responsibilities as the High Lord of Autumn. As he begins to unbutton his coat, the soft hum of a melody reached his ears, a soothing sound that seemed to dance with the flickering shadows. Drawn towards the source, Eris walked into the bathroom, where the air was thick with the scent of enchanted herbs and essential oils.

In the center of the room, a large, claw-footed bathtub awaited, filled with steaming water. Floating atop were petals of autumn blooms, interspersed with sprigs of calming lavender and rosemary. You stood beside the tub, your back turned towards him, but he could feel your awareness of his presence through the bond that tightened in his chest.

Eris leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scene before him. The tightening in his chest blossomed into a pool of warmth, the sight of you bringing him a sense of peace that always left him wondering if this was all a dream. Another tug through the bond reminds him that it’s not. 

You wore a flowing gown of deep burgundy, reminiscent of the Autumn Court’s forests, and your hair cascaded around your shoulders. The humming ceased, and with a smile in your voice, you finally greeted him.

“My High Lord.”

A faint smirk tugged at Eris’s lips as he crossed his arms. "What is all of this?"

You turned around to face him, your eyes glowing a vivid crimson as the room darkened around you. "A little treat for you."

Eris raised an eyebrow, his own magic flickering the candles surrounding the bathtub to life. "A treat? For me?"

"Mmm. That’s what I said.”

Your eyes softened back to their natural hue. “Your energy has been all over the place these past couple of weeks. I thought a ritual might help ease your burden." You gestured to the enticing bath. "To relax you a little."

Eris blinked, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. His eyes roamed over the various jars and elixirs lining one of the counters, each one glimmering with an otherworldly light. His gaze returned to you as you moved towards the array. You paused, studying the selection with a discerning eye before picking up a dark vial, its contents swirling with a strange mist.

You approached the bathtub with the chosen elixir, the air tingling with anticipation. You uncorked the bottle, releasing the trapped mist with a soft pop. You brought the open bottle to your nose, inhaling deeply and closing your eyes as if savoring a fine wine. “Frog’s breath,” you said, the corners of your lips twitching at the slight grimace on Eris’s face. “It’s surprisingly refreshing. It’s the toad’s breath you have to watch out for.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to go sniffing the wrong amphibian,” Eris replied, his tone laced with dry sarcasm.

You shot him a wry look before turning your attention back to the bath. With a flick of your wrist, you directed the mist towards the water, where it hovered above the surface like storm clouds, emitting a soft hiss as it settled.

Then, you reached into your dress, pulling out a long, vibrant feather from your chest, its colors shimmering in shades of reds, oranges, and gold. Your eyes glowed with a radiant red light as you admired the feather. “A phoenix feather. It brings forth rebirth and renewal—a rejuvenating energy, perfect for new beginnings.”

You beckoned Eris closer, and he complied, his amber eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. He stood beside you, watching intently as you cast the feather into the bathtub as if it were your cauldron. There was a sudden flash of light, and the water began to glow with a faint golden hue.

“Looks like you’re preparing to make a stew out of me.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, finding him already watching you. Your smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Oh, how you wound me, my love. I thought we were well past the murderous stage.”

Eris chuckled, reminiscing about the tumultuous beginnings of your relationship. How far the two of you had come since those early days. He never would have imagined that the witch with a love for chaos could capture his heart so completely. As you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge, he turned to face you.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

Eris gave you a nod, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt tight with emotion.

You began to undo the remaining buttons on his coat, your fingers moving with a practiced grace. The fabric soon slid down his shoulders and fell to the floor. You continued with his vest and then, you reached his shirt, your nimble fingers brushing against his chest. 

As the garment fell away, you took a moment to appreciate the sight before you. Your hands traced the planes of his muscles, the touch light and reverent, invoking a delightful shudder that ran through him like a current. Your eyes find his as your hands begin to trail lower, teasing at the waistband of his pants.

Eris’s gaze is intense, bringing your movements to a stop. He finishes undressing himself, knowing that if he allowed you, there was no way he’d have the strength to indulge in the bath before indulging in you.

His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a tender caress. “What next?” He breathes, his nose brushing against yours.

“Do you trust me?” You whisper and though he can only muster another nod, he sends his reassurance through the bond. “Then, get in.”

You extend your hand to him, and he takes it without hesitation, allowing you to guide him into the bath. Even as he settles into the tub, his back resting against the cool porcelain, his hand never leaves yours. The hot water envelops him, immediately easing the tension in his muscles, and he lets out a contented groan.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he brushes a kiss against your knuckles, his amber eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs.

“Guess we’ll never find out. You’re stuck with me now.” You reply, tugging at the golden threads that tether your souls together.

"A devastating tragedy," Eris feigns lament.

"A true catastrophe," you echo, matching his tone.

The two of you share a smile, the look in your eyes contrasting the words exchanged. Your hands move gently to remove the autumn diadem from his head, a symbol of his new rank and the burdens he bears. You place the diadem safely onto the counter and then, you’re returning to his side.  

You sit on the stool beside the bathtub, your fingers threading through his hair with a soothing touch. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies and though it’s not the first time you performed a ritual over him, it’s your first time performing one as his mate and for pleasure. His heart flutters in anticipation.

Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Just sit back and relax.”

His breath hitched as he felt the coolness of your magic radiate from your fingertips and seep into his scalp. You began to hum an ancient tune. The chill of your magic transformed into a soothing, calming caress, gently breaking down the shields of his mind. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him—the warmth of the water, the scent of enchanted herbs, the soft glow of candles.

Eris, who had always been the one to shoulder burdens and stand strong, felt an unfamiliar sensation—a deep, unspoken care enveloping him. It relaxed him, allowing him to be vulnerable in a way he rarely permitted. And in the quiet embrace of the night, he realized how fortunate he was to have someone like you in his life.

Someone who understood the storms within him and embraced them, bringing harmony to his tumultuous world.

a/n: hope you enjoyed these! Eris's turned out a lot softer than I first imagined. I do intend to post more witchy HCs/drabbles but at the moment, I don't have an idea for one. But if you do, feel free to send it my way!

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[xoxochb]

thinking about post sex w percy jackson. I feel wholeheartedly that it’s a cas song irl like, a very serene and unreal moment if that’s makes sense. and he’s oh-so gentle with you, either lazily wrapping an arm around your middle while your finger traces light lines and shapes over his bare chest, or he takes your hand into his own and kisses each pad of them gingerly, one at a time :(( he thinks, without a doubt, despite all the ways he’s seen you (whether that’s crying, sick, happy, angry, etc) that this is when you look the absolute prettiest— your cheeks are flushed a light hue pink, hair tousled to match his own, your half-lidded eyes, bruised lips parted, and the way your skin is pressed against his own, providing him great comfort. this, he would never trade for anything.

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[marunene]

He would count your freckles as a hobby

[4ever-feral]

Photos of Misha Collins that make me Feral ✨Pt.2✨

Here’s Pt.1!

[cuntiel]

“You must be dumb as fuck to like supernatural”

Me:

[womanhopper]

Noises

(With desperate Cas)

AN- I want to write something with a desperate Dean but i can think of anything that will make him seem like him, if that makes sense? SEND REQUEST 🙏

Cas’ jaw was sore and bruised, the bruising was from a fight he got into, but the soreness he had was for an entirely different reason.

You heard his jaw pop as he finally released your poor pearl from his teeth, licking a long and painfully slow stripe up your slit. You were absolutely gone, each orgasm making your thighs constantly squeeze around his head and shake with the rest of your body from sweet overstimulation.

But can you blame the poor, sweet, angel? It was really your fault for thinking you could prance around the kitchen in one of his shirts and his favorite thin, white panties. You always looked absolutely heavenly and divine to him in the pure looking panties, the panties he destroyed you in.

His intentions started innocent with a few kisses along your neck as he wrapped his arms around your stomach, but how could anyone resist you with your soft whines.

“Oh Cas…” you whine out as you leaned your hands on the counter in front of you.

Cas was only encouraged by the way you whined his name, responding with a desperate noise you faintly made out as a moan.

You tried to convince Cas to stop, or at least wait until you were in the privacy of your room where there weren’t prying eyes through open windows, but he could never focus let alone listen when he was so desperate for you.

Cas only responded to you with a disagreeing hum before starting to become more desperate “Please, angel?” He kissed along your shoulder as he slid his hands under your (his) shirt, squeezing the soft skin as he slid them higher up your body.

You sighed at the feeling of his hands caressing you, but you were still persistent to not be watched by those passing by.

“Cas-“ you were cut off with a sharp gasp as he bit softly into your shoulder, effectively silencing you as he cupped both of your tits. “Oh fuck.” you moan out as he pinches your hardened nipples.

Cas kissed the area he had been biting before starting to plead with you, “Please just once? Just let me taste you and I swear i’ll be good.”

You wanted to hold your ground, you really did, but you could never deny him when he was being so desperate, rutting his hips between your thigh. And so you complied, “Fine.”

Only it wasn’t just one taste against the kitchen counter, how could he stop after tasting your sweet release?

AN(pt2)- I wanna write about Cas getting both of you off through your panties, just sliding over your slit while still being under your thin panties that soon become transparent with both of your excitement…

[angelsdean]

AU where dean's EMF reader can pick up and translate angel frequencies

[astr0exe]

HYBRID AU !

(tm reader, puppy reader, dehumanisation(?), nsfw)

(pt 2.)

Soap definitely tries to convince the other to let you stay in his room, just so he can pamper (use) you, his little puppy:(

I feel like Price would have a dog bed in his office, UNDER his desk, so you can play with his dick whenever he wants you to, cause.. you dont know what you really want puppy, just suck on his dick for a little bit, it will help your confused brain he promises and he wouldnt ever lie to his favourite pet

Gaz would absolutely spoil and pamper you, like always sliding you treats, letting you use him, letting you curl up in his lap

Ghost would probably have a collar made for you when you first get bought by them, a pretty pet deserves a pretty collar right boy? he would probably wanna see your drenched hole stretch along him AND Johnnys dicks, just be a good boy and take it:(

[majorpatheticcas]

Lemme smooch sans with tongue.

Respectfully of course.

Tadaaa

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