#cas drabble

[supernaturalfreewill]

Happy Flashback Friday!

Character/Pairing: Cas Mood: sleepy Random word: warm Requested by: anonymous :) “Hey,” a soft voice barely cut into your unconsciousness, but a sudden warm hand on your shoulder, gentle and still, pushed away the blackness.

You inhaled a sudden breath, as one does emerging from cold water, and pulled your head off your arms, turning to see that it was Cas standing beside you. You rubbed a hand over your eyes. “Cas. Hi.”

He straightened up, but his blue eyes traveled over your face still and the crumpled wrinkles folded into your sweater from sleeping on your arms at the table all night. “What are you doing? It’s still early morning. Were you here all night?” he asked you, concern evident.

You started to stack away books and straighten the papers in front of you, covered with your scribbles and doodles. You were reaching for a heavy book to close it up, when Cas’s hand gently caught yours and stopped you dead. A jolt of electricity shot up your arm at his touch and your fingertips tingles like they were asleep.

“Would you leave it? You’re exhausted. Go get some rest. This all can wait.”

“I don’t want to leave it all a mess–” you started to protest, but Cas gently squeezed your hand before relinquishing it and giving you a knowing look. He was right. You were exhausted.

“You’ve done more than enough for now. As usual,” he said, giving you a warm smile. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed and you decided that perhaps he was right. Without his intervention you would run yourself ragged.

“I’ll clear this up. You just get some rest,” he said. “Goodnight.”

You returned a fond smile, your cheeks coloring a little. “Goodnight, Cas…”

[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.

[angel-fruitcake]

can't stop thinking about the concept of post-canon Destiel reunion where Dean confesses his mutual romantic feelings and Cas is so happy, don't get him wrong! but even though he's grown fond of this vessel that he's had for years, for some reason Cas can't seem to get past his worry and insecurity that maybe Dean isn't 100% sold on the whole idea of being intimate with a man.

so without meeting Dean's gaze, Cas hesitantly offers with a touch of sadness, "if this vessel isn't satisfactory for you, i-i could perhaps try to procure a female v-"

and Dean grabs Cas by his heated cheeks, promptly shutting him up with a kiss.

once the initial shock subsides and Cas finally starts to relax, Dean pulls back just enough to whisper against the angel's lips, "i want you just like this. this," Dean squeezes Cas' face for emphasis, "is the Cas that i met in that barn all those years ago. this is the Cas that pulled me outta hell." Dean trails wet kisses along Cas' stubbled jawline, pausing when his lips reach the angel's ear. "this is the Cas i fell in love with."

Castiel melts against Dean with a whimper.

[thepagemistress]

Cas doesn't really use pet names for Dean but occasionally he will call him something in Enochian that always makes Dean weak in the knees.

And then one day, as Cas is sat by himself in the library, he hears a sudden guffaw ring through the corridor, recognisable as Gabriel's. Followed by a "Dean..." from Sam that is clearly meant to sound placating but instead sounds more like he's trying to hold back a laugh of his own.

Footsteps beat down the corridor, swiftly approaching the library as Dean blusters his way in. Spotting Cas immediately, he throws his arms wide.

"Your pet name for me is 'human'?!"

Cas simply stares back at Dean, completely unmoved. "You call me angel. Frequently."

"Yeah, but..." he splutters. Hesitates. Flusters.

Cas raises an eyebrow and waits.

Dean scowls back at him, red-faced, points a threatening finger at him and then just...turns on his heel and flees the room.

Cas's lips twitch in a smile as he turns back to his book.

[strawlessandbraless]

Angels: Brother, you have been chosen for this mission to save the righteous man from hell. But Castiel, hear me well. Do not covet the Michael Sword, big plans for that sword

*2 minutes later*

Castiel: I will lay claim to this living soul, rebuild him, mark him as my own, and carve my name into his ribs, gonna stare at him a lot, so much, gonna kiss him

[babygirlwolverine]

cas is the one to lean in for a kiss; soft and tender and sweet against dean’s lips. but when he goes to pull away, something yanks at dean’s heartstrings. he grabs at cas, holding him steady so they’re breathing each others air. he’s not ready for the kiss to end. “one more,” dean murmurs against cas’ mouth, stealing another kiss. “one more,” he repeats a few seconds later, making cas smile against his lips. “one more, one more, one more.” and cas pulls dean closer, keeping his mouth against dean’s as he murmurs back, “you can have as many kisses as you want, dean. forever.” this time, cas kisses him deep and slow, as if there was no rush and nothing else in the world except them with their lips pressed together. “one more,” dean whispers, and cas kisses him again.

[museaway]

prompt: a well-meaning lie

Dean/Cas, 100 words

--

would you still love me if—

Castiel turned his eyes from the made-for-TV romcom and focused his squint on Dean.

“What does she mean?”

“Oh, that’s a test. Does he love her enough to stay with her no matter what?”

“So she isn’t a shapeshifter.”

“No, she was speaking figuratively.”

“Ah.” Castiel went back to watching the movie. After a minute, his head canted slightly toward his shoulder. “I have another form.”

“I remember. Wings, cosmic powers, real loud voice.”

Those blue eyes met his again and narrowed in unspoken question. Inwardly, Dean sighed.

“Yes, Cas. Even if you were a worm.”

[casdeans-pie]

I know it's been said a million times but

I really wish Cas had been human a while longer and been able to stay at the Bunker.

Dean teaching him how to be human would have been so SO good

And listen, I love Dean teaching Cas the romantic human stuff as much as anyone. but I think even better would be all the weird human stuff.

Because, c’mon those two are already so goddamn weird together anyway.

Like, explaining to Cas about 'all that crusty eye gunk' he'll get after a bad night's sleep. Or like, about blowing his nose (Cas's nose does that whistling thing one day and it nearly drives Dean crazy). Showing him how to clip his nails without catching his skin. How to cure the hiccups.

Cause like. Cas knows humans are weird. But he's never had to experience that weirdness firsthand before.

Also it doesn't occur to either of them that Sam could be teaching Cas any of these lessons.

If anyone is going to teach Cas about the weirdness of the human body of course it's gonna be Dean.

[missmarveledsblog]

A kind of sex education ( platonic cas x winchesters x reader)

summary : when castiel curious nature after watching adult movies leads to a strange string of questions and learning of their sex lives . 

warnings well there is really none just awkward sex talk . this is more a drabble   

What was supposed to be a normal ass day of research ended up more strange then any hunt well it definitely up there . She wanted to prove dean wrong but walked in on castiel doing his own research . eyes locked on the screen , while head tilted in confusion and a woman's moans filled the room making the two freeze to their spot. 

" is he watching..." her voice trailed off .

" porn yeah , we've got an angel watching porn " dean shook his  head .

" erm cas buddy that stuff is not for the communional area's more privacy of your own room " she winced as the sound of skin slapping got louder.

" if the pizza man truly loves the babysitter why does he keep  slapping her rear ?"  he turned to the red faced  hunters standing before him .  " perhap she has done something wrong" he added. 

" cas turn it off please" she asked quicker and louder ,making cas stand and her to gasp . " oh my ,dean does he have " she turned to the man .

" A boner yep " he snorted .

" Cas why are you watching this " she asked sitting across from him noticing his eyes trail to her chest.

" You can't watch porn in a room filled with dude's and Y/N " the older winchester chuckled wondering would sam believe him .

" I was bored and bobby told me to borrow a video out of his room" he looked even more confused what was wrong .

" Well good to know i can never look bobby in the eyes again " she felt her cheeks heating up giving the situation.

" Is sex like this in real life " he asked making her wishing she went on the supply run .

" no never , i mean the girls finish for one  and those moanS so fake " she snorted making dean shoot her alook .

" A Man never made you finish " he asked curiously.

" Cas you can't ask a chick that ... but yeah what "he said  turning to Y/N for some help .

" No they have not anyway's  cas sex is nothing like these movies their just fantasized version  that people mainly watch to well get off " she explained awkwardly again wanting to leave the room as soon as she could. 

" Alone so don't whip it out " dean added seeing the angel looking down at his crotch .

" Do you watch it " cas asked looking straight at her.

"  i mean yeah i do sometimes " she smiled weakly seeing deans face light up .

" That's hot sweet girl " he winked .

" that made it move " Cas looked down at his crotch .

" Oh kill me now " she cried as dean doubled over laughing .

" Do you like your rear slapped " Cas asked still filled with questions.

" ok ok why is this aimed at me " she stood.

" I mean trench coat baby has valid questions so sweetheart does spanking get you going " dean teased finding the whole thing amazing . 

" wouldn't you like to know " she winked before leaving the room before the angel curiosity killed her . 

" Hey i wanted to know " dean yelled just as sam walked in almost dropping the bag of groceries  when he had seen what was on the screen .

" Why are you and cas watching porn " he arched his brows .

" Cause he found it in bobbies room  and was curious and just to clarify he was watching it not me " dean snorted.

" Does Y/N like her rear smacked she wasn't clear on her answer " castiel asked standing and to full attention still .

" Ithink i'm going to go back to the store , maybe never come back " sam walked back out the door.

"damn it cas go fix that or have a cold shower" dean huffed leaving the angel standing confused to what was going on  and why everyone was so uncomfortable .

...........

To say dinner time in the bunker was filled with tension was an understatement . all eyes on their plates to bobby's confusion , hell Y/N hasn't looked at him once .

" Ok what the hell happened here  did you walk in on those too having sex or something " he gestured to dean and Y/N .

" No Y/N has never finished in sex " cas said easily .

" someone seriously just shoot me " she groaned.

" i'd let you finish princess " dean winked.

" Erm cas may have gotten his hands on a special movie from your room and it lead to some interesting question mainly aimed at our female hunter " sam explain.

" Pizza boy and babysitter really man " dean asked as bobby's eyes found his plate really interesting all of a sudden.

" I'm going to eat in my room and never talk to you guys again except sam " she ran out the room with her plate.

" Hey want me to join you for dessert" dean called .

"  Fuck off " she yelled back .

" Thank god we don't have a HR department " sam muttered. 

" She never gonna talk to any of us again " bobby face was beet red knowing his niece now knew what he had in his room .

" Who even has porn  dvds anymore " .

" I fixed my boner earlier alone like you said " cas said as the other  dropped their forks . 

" I'm joining Y/N , you guys deal with this " sam ran down the hall . 

" is he going to smack her rear ?  ".

" Ok no more porn questions ever watch it in your room in private and never tell us again and stop asking y/n sex questions before she  leaves us altogether" dean deadpanned.

" We're definitely going to hell for getting an angel hooked on porn " bobby mumbled. 

part two

[salsakiyoomi]

sakusa kiyoomi is a man of his routine.

wake up early, get out of bed, take a quick shower, have breakfast, go out on his morning jog, come back home, rest for a while and then go out to practice.

that's how his everyday went — boring, right? to set such a standard and actually commit to it thoroughly every day.

but that's how kiyoomi is, how he always was — a man of his routine.

that is, until you came along.

his alarm rang about fifteen minutes ago but he's still in bed, his arms wrapped around you, and your legs are wrapped around his torso, a tangle of limbs as your face is buried into the crook of his neck, whispering, "just five more minutes."

he doesn't know how he ended up like this, still in bed even after his alarm rang when he should be up and in the shower right now, but somehow, for some reason, he could never find himself being able to say no to you.

"you said that five minutes ago." he whispers back, his fingers running gently through your hair — this is how his mornings have been ever since you moved in with him, lazy and comforting with the both of you so close to eachother, and he would never admit it out loud, but he actually likes this — likes the warmth of your body against his as you mutter sleepy sweet nothings to him.

"i know." you mumble, placing a soft kiss on the skin of his neck, "this just feels so nice." you hum sleepily, continuing to place soft, butterfly kisses on his neck, your lips barely even touching his skin as you do so, "can't you just stay home today?"

he can't help but shiver at the touch of your lips, how soft it is and he grunts quietly, "you know i can't, baby." he answers back — you always ask him this question, every morning, the answer remains the same and you don't press it, he can't help but think that you maybe ask him this just to tease him a bit.

you hum in response, and he can almost imagine your pout, but nonetheless, you continue to place butterfly kisses on his neck, trailing slowly up to his jaw, "kiyo, you're off tomorrow right?" you whisper against his skin, your hands slowly and gently trailing up his bare chest, to his shoulders and you wrap your arms around him.

he hums in response, "yeah." his fingers are treading through your hair gently, and his hand is tracing circles on your back.

you smile sleepily, he can see the way your eyes are half lidded, and he guesses you're not exactly fully awake yet, "good." you murmur "we can have this all tomorrow morning then without a deadline chasing your ass." he can't help but let out a short laugh when you say that, but he's quickly cut off when you press your lips against his mouth.

it's a bit of a sloppy kiss, with your lips parted so his tongue slips in, it's sleepy and slow, lazy as you move sluggishly against him, and you taste so sweet, like that chocolate cake you had last night before you slept, and like that strawberry lip balm you wear all the time, and he can't help but get lost in your taste.

you pull away, a small smile on your face and you plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

he can't help but smile a bit too, humming to himself, "i have to go now." he tells you quietly, attempting to get your arms off of him.

you shake your head and press yourself closer to him, "just five more minutes." you murmur, burying your face in the crook of his neck again.

sakusa kiyoomi is a man of his routine, he sets a standard and commits to it, and more often than not, he doesn't like it when his routine is disturbed.

but there is always an exception to the rule, and for you, he'll let you break his routine, and mumble about 'five more minutes' even though he knows they won't be the last ones as you press more butterfly kisses to his neck.

he'll let you have your own routine disturb his.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Warnings: sexual content (no description, just the aftermath really, it's more implied than anything)

Cas leaned up on his elbow as you slipped out of bed. "Where are you going?"

"Just to the bathroom," you said. "I'll be right back."

He nodded, unable to stop himself from staring as you picked up his discarded t-shirt from the floor. Neither of you had been concerned with where your clothes ended up when you had collided the night before, for the first time. Cas was still new to this human thing and this sexual intimacy thing but he undeniably knew that you, you were the best thing about both. You'd always been the best thing in his life, since the moment he met you—but feeling everything so intensely now and exploring this brand new landscape with you, of using his body for something he never before really understood, of reaching new levels of physical and emotional depth with you as a caring, loving partner—he had no words for it.

You laughed at his expression after you pulled his shirt on. "You're staring," you said, ducking your head a little shyly, a blush warming your cheeks.

"I can't help it. You look better in my clothes than I do," he said, admiring you in the soft cotton.

You laughed and rotated in place as if to show off the oversized t-shirt. "It works out then, because I quite like this view of you without your clothes," you said boldly, taking in his strong, bare chest above the blankets.

"I'm glad we've discovered this arrangement then," he smiled. "Now go on, so you can come back quickly. I'm missing you already." Prompt: "You look better in my clothes than I do."

[nyc-pizza-rat]

he keeps trying to make sense of himself. there is no sense to be made here, but he keeps trying anyway. if he thinks about it hard enough, maybe he can find his way to his wings, his fingers, his beating heart. he is dreaming, he is awake, he is in the dark, subsumed into it, bitten by it, becoming of it.

his memories are scattered about him, twisting in place like iron filings in the presence of magnets, trying to wind their way back to them. if he tried hard enough, he thinks, he thinks maybe he could pull himself closer together, become whole, become heavy.

these are the things he is, he knows, he can't forget: he is castiel. this is his name. he is a shield forged in the light of heaven. he is god's own. he used to be. he loves the earth, the bees. people. he loves —

there is a name. he doesn't know what it is anymore. there is so little of him left, here. so much of him spilt into the dark already. he grasps at the thread that will bring him this truth. it feels vital, like if it unraveled, castiel would, too. like it is the last tendon holding whatever is left of him in place. there is a name. castiel cannot remember it. there is a name. cas, he thinks. that is what he used to call him. cas, broken away from god. cas, the shield, belonging to no one. cas, with fondness, simple, human fondness, not quite aware of the magnitude of what he was doing, severing a part of him like that. his eyes were green. this much castiel knows. his laugh filled castiel's lungs with air. he was good at holding things, at fixing them. castiel remembers the shape of his hands.

there is a name, on the edge of memory, and castiel cannot remember it. even like this, it eats at him, a grief, a longing. human feeling. he thinks he would cry, if he had a body to inhabit. thinks he would feel his organs churn, hurt.

he holds on to what he can here, so he holds on to the memory of the man's hands. his eyes. the moue of his mouth. the memory of a memory. the last thing he'd seen. his soul, shining, like the sun.

the dark takes its time, and castiel doesn't fight it. there is no fight to be had. atleast, it is not cutting. it is not sharp. it smothers, suffocates, swallows. and castiel lets it.

[softhairedhotch]

a lil drabble i wrote that doesn't fit any of the comfortember prompts <3

aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader

wc: 300ish words

content/warnings: first kiss, mentions of being drunk/alcohol, cute fluffy stuff :)

Aaron laughs and his whole face lights up.

"You seem... happier lately," you say, admiring him. He looks stunning in the low light of the kitchen, his eyes bright and face relaxed in a way you're not used to seeing. It makes your heart stutter in your chest. "It's good. Happiness looks... it looks good on you," you sigh wistfully, unable to stop yourself from speaking due to the alcohol in your system. "So good."

A light blush makes its way to his cheeks and he smiles wider. "Well, uh, thank you. It looks good on you, too."

You grin at him and he grins back, the two of you getting lost in each others eyes. Aaron inches forward ever so slightly and you follow suit until your noses bump together. He laughs, a sweet and innocent and wonderful sound, and it has you swaying, an intense joy coursing through your veins.

"Your laugh is beautiful," you whisper, before taking the risk and pressing your lips against his. He kisses back immediately, titling his head to press himself closer to you. "God, you're so beautiful."

He hums against your lips. "You're beautifuller."

"That's not a word," you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth and dotting a few kisses over his cheek. "How much did you drink?"

"Too much," he chuckles, placing his drink on the kitchen counter so his warm hands are free to hold your face gently and he can kiss you deeper. His lips move over yours in a way that has you feeling lightheaded and you have to hold onto his jacket to stabilise yourself. "How much did you drink?"

"Hopefully not enough to forget that this happened."

He presses a kiss against the tip of your nose with a laugh. "Trust me, I won't let you forget. I'm gonna be thinking about this for the rest of my life."

"Me too."

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

[thebest-medicine]

#5 “No, I’m just- uh- sensitive.” with Dean and Cas?

Prompt 5 - "No, I'm just- uh- sensitive."

A/N: oh man it's a throwback... let's go!!!! to quote @nhasablogg: what in the 2014 is happening here

…

Dean twitched again as Castiel’s hand passed the middle of his back, just between the shoulder blades. Castiel watched him with a twinkle of concern.

He had come in and sat down on the couch at Dean’s invitation earlier, only for Dean to then lounge across the couch and his lap, laying face down on a pillow and popping some reruns on the TV. Cas had taken it upon himself to shower the hunter with a little affection and check to make sure he was uninjured after their last outing. This led to Cas rubbing his back and neck here and there, and some affectionate tracing along his skin (perhaps also a ploy to check for sore muscles or knots) to see if he could help Dean feel a bit better.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothin’.” Dean hummed against the pillow on the arm of the couch. “S’fine.”

Cas continued tracing along the muscles of Dean’s shoulders, pushing in when he sensed a knot and massaging here and there. He ran a few fingers along his spine up to his neck and Dean flinched again.

“Dean.” Cas stressed, stopping his ministrations.

“It’s fine, Cas. I’m… it’s just- uh- sensitive there.”

Castiel leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the human’s expression to better read him. He seemed content, happy even, he wasn’t getting up or moving away. He wasn’t hiding anything… any injury, right? Cas noticed a rosy coloring on the tip of his ear. He smiled gently.

“Sensitive.?” He inquired softly, starting to curl his fingers again along the back of Dean’s neck and over his shoulder, along his back. The thin t-shirt was soft under his fingertips, and it must have been on Dean’s skin as well. Dean squirmed again, digging himself deeper into the couch and Cas’s lap. Cas caught a strangled bit of a laugh almost made its way through the pillow. He smiled a little as he caught on.

“Sensitive… like you are here?” Cas continued, and suddenly his other hand was scratching at Dean’s ribcage.

Dean squawked at the new, more directly ticklish contact. He curled onto his side. “Hehheehe- wait! Nohohohohohooo!” He laughed, his blushing face now free. Cas caught sight of his delightful smile and felt warm.

“Can I get you to laugh like this if I try tickling back here?” Cas said curiously.

Dean protested through his laughs as he squirmed about, still tired, but didn’t do much to actually stop the ticklish attack. Cas drew both hands back and started to make the same spidering motions along the backs of Dean’s ribs and tracing up and down his spine. He scribbled at Dean’s neck, then at the small of his back. Dean laughed all the same, twitching and twisting until he finally squirmed his way onto his back, facing the angel. He caught Castiel’s hands in his and Cas stopped for a moment, taking in his wild eyes and fierce blush in contrast with his freckles.

“Heh- yeesh. You trying to kill me?” Dean laughed, closing his eyes under the scrutiny.

“You have a very sweet laugh.” Castiel said, smiling as Dean squirmed at the compliment too. “And a very ticklish back.” Another squirm.

“Shut up. You’re probably worse.” Dean scoffed.

“Well, maybe you’ll find out one day.”

Dean looked back up at him, raising an eyebrow with a little smirk. “Wanna find out?”

“Not now.” Cas smirked after he spoke, and Dean gave him a bewildered look before fingers fluttered along his stomach and began pinching his sides, and Dean lost his protests to laughter once again.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further SPN drabbles on ao3]

[uhzuku]

Hello! How about kitty Aizawa humping your pillow >_<

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw | 𝐰/𝐜: 1.08k | 𝐜𝐰: pillow humping, hybrids, prev established relationship.

closing the door behind yourself, you toss your keys into the table in the foyer and stretch with a groan. god, you hated in-building workdays — and you’d had them every day this week and more than half of last week too. you could only grumpily be grateful that you’d been able to get off earlier today.

“shouta, i’m home!” you call quietly, receiving no response.

unbothered, you toe off your shoes and gently nudge them into a half-neat position along the wall before you step further into your home and shed your suit jacket as well, tossing it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table as you scrunch your toes up at the feeling of the cold tile beneath your feet. glancing at the counter, you sigh in relief upon realizing that shouta had forgotten to set out the frozen chicken like you’d asked before you’d left; normally you’d be a little upset, but you really didn’t feel like cooking tonight, so this was a blessing in disguise that meant you could just order in and throw your feet up. 

pulling out your phone, you type in a quick order to shouta’s favorite fast food place and then throw it onto the couch with a sigh, turning on the tv after and lazily flicking through the channels before stopping on the nature channel with a sigh.

maybe netflix would have something more interesting?

a sharp cry from your bedroom has you muting the tv and freezing to listen, your heart racing nervously; was shouta hurt? was that why he’d not answered you? god, what if someone had broken in and hurt him?! there weren’t any signs of a break in, and shouta was very much able to defend himself, but god you’d been gone so long-!

a cry of your name has you rushing to the bedroom, reaching it in record time. you open the door with wide eyes and a worried heart, but your question to shouta dies on your lips as you see what your cat hybrid is actually up to. 

“m-more, more, more~!” he gasps, what looks like tears sparkling in the corners of his good eye as he thrusts sharply against the soft cotton pillowcase with his mouth agape and a line of drool threatening to run down his chin; the fangs in his mouth glinted sharply in the soft  light coming through the cloth of the curtains as the fluffy pillow you used every night was clenched tightly between his muscular thighs. “fuck — fu-uck, please!” 

your jaw drops a little in surprise as you stand in the doorway and watch, unable to do anything else as a coil of heat begins building in your lower belly at the sight of shouta this way, his bare cock dragging across the cloth aggressively and leaving dark wet spots behind as he whines and moans from the feeling that, according to what he was groaning, wasn’t enough. “please, please — yes, more!” he moans lowly, the last word long and drawn out as his thrusts get more and more messy and his tail whipping and writhing behind him. shifting slightly on your feet and clenching your own thighs together, you keep watching without hesitation as your heart begins to beat faster for an entirely different reason. .

so this is why the sheets have been washed every afternoon before i get home, you think, watching the way the tip of his thick length runs along the seam of your pillow, clearly feeling good enough for him to throw his head back over before hastily folding the pillow without looking and shoving his cock into the place he’d made for himself in it and resuming the manic thrusts that only get messier and messier. a longer, low cry coupled with a swift stuttering of his hips is warning enough that he’s about to cum, and you watch with lust-darkened eyes as he keens loudly and curls around the pillow, humping it aggressively while letting out shaky moans and cries. “yes, yes, yes — fuck, please, so good-!” he whimpers, his body shaking, and as he slowly relaxes into the bed with his tail swishing pleasantly from side to side you finally decide to let your presence be known. 

“what a show,” you say softly, and he jumps to look at where you were standing, his one dark eye wide and shocked. obviously he’d not heard you come in, too wrapped up in his previous activity, and considering you lived here he couldn’t exactly go by your scent entering the house — especially not in your own bedroom. 

“i — how — when did-?!” he stutters, his cheeks pinkening as he stares at you from the bed, and you laugh softly as you slowly approach. 

“a lot of it, shou’,” you murmur, voice fond and hot, and his ears flick back in embarrassment as he turns away from you. you just laugh again and sit next to him on the bed before cupping his head in your hands and drawing him close so his head rests on your chest; his skin is warm and his hair is messy, and you find yourself combing out the knots with your fingers as you tease him. “have i left you alone too long, baby? were you so bored and needy here without me?” you ask, playfully mocking him, and he groans and turns to bury his face in your chest. “aww, you just wanted my attention on you and not work, huh-?”

“stop making fun of me,” he mumbles into you, “you’re so fuckin’ mean t’me,” and you laugh softly and cradle him close.

“shhh, it’s all in good fun, baby,” you promise lowly before flipping the two of you so you’re straddling his bare body, his eyes wide beneath you as he looks up at where you were grinning playfully. your eyes twinkle as you say, “i ordered dinner. a few minutes ago and i’m off work until the twenty-seventh — how about you fuck me better than you’ve been fucking my pillow so you can actually be satisfied?”

he grins up at you and throws his arms around you, flipping you both again as he begins to tug at your clothes while growling into your mouth then against your skin as he begins nipping his way down your neck. 

“i’m guessing that’s a yes,” you gasp softly, crying out as he bites at your now bared nipple. 

“yes,” he growls, then starts nipping again. “now quiet; gotta fuck you better, don’t i?”