#cas touches dean when he heals him

[youchangedmedestiel]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 1,428

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester

Additional Tags: Episode: s13e22 Exodus (Supernatural), Canon Compliant, Dean wants to retire, Dean wants to go to the beach with his family, Touching, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Neck Kissing, how Castiel knew about the little knife in dean's back pocket, the one that he used in despair to save dean

Summary:

This is the story of how Cas knew where to find Dean’s little knife he used in episode 15x18 to cut his hand and draw the sigil to keep Billie away and save Dean.

[muirmarie]

i'm at work but someone dare me when I'm off to write the cas/hawkeye/margaret (dean/cas & hawkeye/margaret) time-traveling post 15x19 ptsd fic that I suddenly very much want to write

[quietwingsinthesky]

the song remains the same au where Anna lives somehow, Michael didn’t finish the job or something, and it’s Dean being told he gets no choice, nothing but his destiny as Michael’s vessel, and he’s back where he was in Heaven and Hell with both Anna and Sam under threat, but god, this time he’s saving both of them, he has to. Pushed further towards saying yes not just because of his own failing faith that they can stop the Apocalypse, but because in that moment, he promises he will, if Michael will send Anna back with them. Reasons that she doesn’t belong there any more than him and Sam do, and maybe she’s been hurt so badly that she’s been knocked back down to practically human.

But the point is that Anna lives, and she tried to kill Dean’s parents, and failed, but at the same time, he gets it. He just tried to convince his own mom not to have him or Sam, and it all got erased. They are more like pawns than they ever have been, but they could still try to find something in each other. Some bit of lost tenderness. It’s the end of the world. Any night could be the last night.

[hvcklebury]

thinking about 10x22 when dean beat the shit out of cas and then 11x3 when cas beat the shit out of dean and then offered to heal his bruises but dean wouldnt let cas touch him as like self punishment because he still felt guilty about hurting cas....... or maybe im just mentally ill

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  CHRISTMAS LOVE

SUMMARY : dean ate something he shouldn’t have eaten, but in the meantime, there’s something to ease the ache until it can be fixed. not that it’s a problem… per se..

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), handjob, cum eating, cum kissing, p in v, aphrodisiac chocolate cookies 

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : jimin song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — aphrodisiac. yup, I thought I hated Christmas, but actually it’s not so bad if it's centred around Dean. ✨mental illness✨ XXX

Everything was fine for the last forty minutes or so. 

Dean helped his girlfriend set up the television in their bedroom—his bedroom that he partially convinced her to stay in permanently—put the snacks together, while stealing some chocolate-peppermint thumbprint cookies Charlie brought over earlier today, as his girlfriend stayed in his room to choose a Christmas movie.

He knew it would be about the Grinch. She was pretty Grinch-y sometimes around Christmas, but just like the Grinch, Dean got her to change her mind about Christmas being the most awful holiday. 

But Christmas definitely couldn’t beat Halloween—it’s their number one, favourite holiday. 

But… back to the main point, Dean couldn’t relax. He tried everything, imagined his go-to turn offs when he’s unbearably horny: Sam in lingerie, Cas in lingerie, hell—even Charlie in lingerie. He’d cringed at the thought of them, completely disgusted as his mind made it like a film without his permission, but their faces and bodies ended up transforming into the woman currently laying in his arms.

Nothing worked, not reliving being in Hell, not the memory of having the Mark—nothing made his dick soft. Mostly because after every single bad day, he went to her. 

It was her he buried himself into, her lips that kissed away tears, her caresses that healed up his wounds… you see? His mind is going straight to it like there’s no other path to take. He usually doesn’t mind, and neither does she, but this is supposed to be a wholesome moment. Just her and him watching a movie together, that’s all that he wanted to do for her today. 

Unfortunately, his dick had other ideas.

She’s not even fully clothed, which makes it even worse for him. She’s wearing nothing beneath the blue flannel she borrowed from him—no underwear, no bra, just some fluffy Christmas socks on her feet. Just the thought of it made his cock twitch. He bit his lip to hold back a moan. 

It wasn’t her fault she was practically naked. Sometimes he was way too hot and she’d end up uncomfortably sweaty in the middle of the night. Her solution: wear nothing but Dean’s shirt. It was great, Dean could smother her and be wrapped around her without her trying to get away, but right now, it ain’t that great. 

Right now, Dean knows that with one move from either one of them and she’d know what was up: yup, his dick.

Still, he was squirming too much for it to go unnoticed. And he shoved food into his mouth to pretend the chips, and the brownies, and everything else he ate were making him moan. Unlike her, he was wearing his t-shirt, some boxers, and socks to combat the cold of his concrete room. But now, he was flushed, and hot, and completely uncomfortable. 

“Dean,” she scolded, turning aggressively onto her back to gaze up at him. “What’s up? You can’t sit still—which is normal, but not this much…” she trailed off, immediately identifying the blush on his cheeks and the glaze of lust in his green eyes. “Woah, what’s that for?” She teased, poking his cheek. 

He grabbed her hand quickly before she could pull it away and kissed her palm. “Nothin’,” he brushed off, but his heart was pounding hard in his chest, and his hand tightened around her wrist as his mind told him over and over: dammit, just touch her. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” she said playfully, biting her lip. Subtly, she moved her hand away from her stomach and brushed her hand up his crotch experimentally. Dean groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Ah, a boner,” she said casually, then squeezed his cock over his boxers.

“You do know we’re watching the Grinch and not a porno right?” She continued to taunt with a grin on her face. He whined softly, opening his eyes to glare down at her. She batted her lashes at him innocently, but he knew she meant well. 

“You think I don’t know that?” He asked breathily. His eyes softened when she sneaked her hand inside the stretchy waistband of his briefs and brushed her fingertips along the length of his cock. “God… I… please,” he moaned, leaning over her to bury his face in her neck. 

“I’ve got you,�� she told him quietly, pulling her hand out to hook her fingers over the waistband of his boxers and lower them down his thighs. He cursed softly, and allowed her to push his chest so he could lie down on his back. She straddled his thighs and smiled down at him hotly, lifting her hand up to her mouth to leave her palm slick in saliva before wrapping it around him. 

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, clutching her thighs. 

Warm and heavy in her hand, she squeezed his shaft gently and held eye contact with him as she stroked up and down. He smoothed his hands up her thighs, grasping her hips beneath his warm flannel. He attempted to bring her forward, and she did move forward, and slid her hand up beneath his shirt to lift it.

“Come like this, yeah?” She asked, starting to twist her hand up and down his cock. He whined, a cute pout drawing his lips downwards.

“Is this… are you not turned on?” Dean questioned breathily, slightly surprised by her proposition. He didn’t try to convince her otherwise and kept his hands still on her hips. 

“I am…” she smiled, then dropped her gaze down to his cock, watching the swift slide upwards and downwards of her hand over his excitement, “but I wanna finish the movie.” He bit his lip, his eyes flickering down to her hand moving quick and steady, his precum aiding each stroke. “Then… we can have fun.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, “I’m sorry…” He’d like to apologise to her fully for ruining the night, but he gave into the pleasure of her soft hand wrapped around his cock, letting the heat of his arousal and the spark of his orgasm take over his body.

“No, I’m good with this,” she smiled sweetly, ignoring the throb of her clit and flood of arousal between her legs.

She worshipped him quietly, focused on touching his freckled skin with his shirt shoved up his chest. As he throws his head back, blushing red, vocalising the pleasure that’s painted across his stunning face. 

She faintly remembers what Dean looked like when he was younger. He’s much older now, still so beautiful—always. His face is not smooth, stubble covers his jaw, wrinkles enhance the beauty of his eyes, and always those goddamn lashes of his, curled upwards naturally. 

He’s covered from head to toe in freckles, cute freckles, some light, others dark. Sometimes they make patterns, triangles, a trail that fades, some of them overlap. He thinks it makes him look dirty, dusty, but he’s always had a heart-stopping beauty that no one could match. Effortless beauty no one could achieve. 

He’s much softer than before, but the faint cut of his abs remained. There were scars, too, ones Cas didn’t heal because Dean didn’t ask, but Cas comes through sometimes and does a full sweep. Eventually, she finds new scars, new scratches, new marks. Then, they disappear and she memorises him all over again. 

“Touch yourself,” Dean requested breathlessly, squirming and digging his blunt nails into the flesh of her hips. Lashes fluttered against his cheekbones as he opened his eyes. 

“Touch myself?” She repeated with a gentle laugh, lifting her hand up to his face. He instantly leaned into her touch and slid one of his hands to the small of her back to bring her closer. “Baby, I only wanna touch you,” she whispered enticingly, cupping his jaw to brush her thumb across his lip. 

Up and down, she continued to give him pleasure, knowing he was close as he throbbed in her hand, as his muscles twitched with every passing second. His breath hitched and she squeezed him, moving her hand faster, then lowered her hand away from his face to use both hands on his cock. 

Hands wet with his precum, she made a ring with her finger to massage the frenulum and spread the sticky arousal dribbling out of the slit of his cockhead with her thumb. 

She licked her lips at the sight and smirked, “come for me, Dean.” It was hot that she had this much control over him. His body hardened and he called out her name as he spilled hot release over her hand and his stomach. 

Curses spilled from his mouth and he seized her mischievous hands when she refused to stop. “You’re still hard,” she murmured, stunned, but he was too pleased with the release to pay attention to her words. 

“You’re mean,” Dean complained breathily, eyes opening lazily.

“It’s a gift you’ll open later tonight,” she promised in a joking manner, taking her hands out from his loving grasp. “You’re still hard, by the way,” she repeated curiously, gripping his still erect cock at the base. 

“Fuck… what?” He asked, bewildered, watching her move back and lean down to lick his cum off his stomach. He whimpered quietly, his cock red and pretty in her hand still, one hundred percent still aroused. 

The fact that she was licking his cum off his tummy didn’t help at all. The warm, wet muscle flicked smoothly across his soft skin, gathering his tangy, creamy cum. Occasionally, her teeth would graze his skin, setting his nerves alight, and she’d suck until marks painted his body. Then, she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and sucked it clean with a pleased moan. 

He grunted and threw his head back into the pillow again. He blindly made contact with her hair, buried his fingers carefully into her silky locks and tugged her upwards. She went to him without resistance and kissed him as he waited for her slick lips.

The kiss was wet and erotic. He could taste his cum, felt some of it against her tongue, unswallowed. He took it with a moan of pleasure, licking across her tongue in gratitude. He moved her hair out of the way subconsciously, pressing her closer to him, impossibly close. 

He got a hold of her hip again and smoothed his hand up the curve of her back, lifting the flannel. She hummed inquisitively, pulling away momentarily before locking lips with Dean again to run her tongue along the roof of his mouth then to taste the unique peppermint on his tongue that was definitely not from any teeth-brushing. 

She pulled away and blinked down at him, silently intrigued as he caught his breath. “Am I cursed?” He wondered out loud, bringing her hips down onto his cock needily. They moaned in unison. “Oh, fuck… did we piss a witch off?” He whined, grinding his hips up into her wet folds. “Rowena,” he growled, wondering if he’d done something to piss off the Scottish red-head or if she'd done just to fuck with him. 

“Hey, slow down…” she gasped, unbuttoning Dean’s flannel from her body at last. “Did you eat those cookies Charlie brought?” She inquired, slowing down the roll of her hips. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, his tone puzzled. He opened his eyes, peeking up at the now-open flannel exposing her naked body to his dirty gaze. 

“Dean, oh my God,” she giggled, halting the movement of her hips. He frowned. “How many?” 

“I dunno, four.” He shrugged. Trying to regain her focus, he took his cock in his hand and found her clit with the soft head by pushing it up and down through her folds. She moaned softly, thighs shaking.  

“Yeah, this is not going away anytime soon,” she said quietly, squirming when he held her hip and nudged her forward. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his brows furrowing in bemusement. “What do cookies have to do wi-”

“They’re aphrodisiacs,” she interrupted him, shrugging his flannel off her shoulders before throwing it beside him. He gazed up at her, adorably dumbfounded. “Well, at least the chocolate is.” 

“What?! Why would she-? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, sitting up higher on the bed, carding his fingers through his honey hair, making it messy and sexy. 

“I… forgot. I was hanging out with Charlie and Stevie… I’m sorry,” she gave him an apologetic smile, but amusement glimmered in her eyes, which made him smile, too. 

“No.. babe, it’s okay, I’m just really horny…” he trailed off, then took her arms and tugged her towards him with a big smile on his face. 

“We can call Cas,” she offered with a laugh, giving him a sweet kiss when he brought her closer and nuzzled his nose against hers. 

“Why don’t we test this out, first?” He asked, sneaking his hand between her legs to circle his fingertips over her entrance. Her arousal drenched his fingers and he hummed, pleased with the copious slickness that coated her pussy. 

“Huh?” She murmured, preoccupied with his adept fingers as they found her clit and began drawing slow circles. She nibbled gently on his jaw and kissed her way down his neck. 

“Why else would Charlie make them?” Dean inquired, bending one knee to gently nudge her behind and silently guide her over to his cock. She pulled away from his throat to consider his question as he lined his cock up with her entrance.

“Well, she did say-” She started thoughtfully, sinking down on his cock. 

“Exactly,” Dean cut her off, enjoying the stretch of her walls around his cock. Dean gazed up at her lustfully, slid his hands up her thighs, and flattened one hand up her stomach. “Lean back, bend your knees,” he instructed, then bit his lip. 

She raised a brow at him, but did as he asked. She bent her knees and he hooked his arms beneath, wrapping them around to grip the top of her knees, spreading her legs open for a clear view of his cock inside her.

“Sorry about the movie,” he chuckled, lifting his hips upwards.

“I guess it’s fair,” she smiled at him, leaning back with her arms behind her, between his legs, “since I forgot to tell you about the cookies.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s somethin’ to be sorry for.” 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[via-l0ve]

i saw ur spn works n i looooveeee them :3 if u dont mind.. could u write ab dean, sam, n cas with a reader whos touch averse but also touch starved? very very uncomfortable with touch from other people (to the point of feeling sick or a breakdown) but when it comes to them, reader loves their touch (has a hard time initiating it though) reader will only ever tolerate their touch, it makes them feel so comfortable <3

Touchy (SPN Pref!) 🩷

a/n: i’m back babies :3 hope you enjoy :)

warnings: nothing! very slight angst because of crying and struggle to explain feelings.

Dean:

it takes dean a minute to realize how special he is to you

over the years, he had seen you flinch and squirm away from others touches

he’d been there to comfort you after a particularly hard time, consoling you when you break down from the overwhelming touches of other people

so when you guys started dating, naturally he was cautious around you

he loves you more than anything, but his worst fear was upsetting you

at first, he almost never touched you

until one day when you stood next to him, he saw you reaching your hand near his and pulling away, practically shaking

he acts on impulse, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze

after that, he was the only one who was allowed to touch you

and if ANYONE ever stepped beyond your boundaries

dean would bury his fist in their face before their fingers could graze you

—

Sam:

Sam always tried to understand why you hated the touch of people but yet yearned for it

He always intimidated people if they touched you, threatening them if they chose to not listen to your social cues

He was always there for you

24/7/365 whenever you felt uncomfortable, he wanted you to tell him

which is why, he suspects, when you started going out, he touched you rarely

he’d graze your hand with his or rub food or makeup off of your face

but when you told him through tears how much you loved his touch, he realized

you needed it. you just didn’t know how to say it.

so since then same always has contact with you when he is near you

whether it be an arm around your shoulders, his hand on your thigh, fingers interlocked, anything

he’d never let go

—

Castiel:

my baby :(

he always was so concerned about your feelings

he never wants anything to upset you

he especially never wanted to upset you

he always asks about your boundaries, why you don’t like people touching you, what he could do to help, etc

the one time that he witnessed you break down, he was the most concerned he had ever been.

heaven couldn’t prepare him for the love he felt for you

When a nasty hunt happened, castiel was scared seeing the blood seep from your clothes

you stumble to the bed, shaking and crying from the pain in your abdomen

cas rests his hands on your stomach, whispering some consoling words and “i’m sorry”’s for touching you

but he was surprised when you didn’t say anything, just grabbing his hand after he had healed you

“are you alright?” he asks, but then realizes

you just want his touch

only his

and Castiel smiles the biggest you’d ever seen and keeps a gentle hand on your stomach.

[thigholstercas]

Cas and Dean training could've been so good. It would've been good around s9 when cas was human, but stuff happened. But as Cas progressively was losing his powers, Dean would tell himself and Cas is just to keep them in shape but really is because he's a touch starved little guy who wants to be near Cas and as a plus the rush of Cas' grace to heal him after getting beaten by him because he would tell him not to hold back, all so worth it and he would insist for him not to waste his grace on him and that is good to feel the pain but Cas would insist of course.

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

DW, BA & SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @lacilou

[jackles010378]

Demon Dean Jealous?

(Demon Dean/normal Dean Winchester X you)

When demon Dean overhears a familiar voice at the karaoke bar he's taken a liking too, his blood starts to boil. Is this the moment Sam and Cas have been waiting for to get Dean back to normal?

In the dimly lit corners of a bustling bar, demon Dean Winchester’s eyes glinted with a dangerous hue as he watched his girlfriend laugh with another man. The green-eyed monster of jealousy reared its ugly head, and a low growl escaped Dean’s lips. Unbeknownst to him, this was all part of a well-orchestrated plan.

Sam and Cas, hidden in the shadows, exchanged a knowing glance. The stranger was a friend, a decoy, luring Dean into the open. As Dean’s jealousy reached its peak, he stormed towards them, his demonic nature on full display. But before he could reach the pair, Sam and Cas sprang their trap.

A whirlwind of action ensued, and in the chaos, Dean was subdued. The next thing he knew, he was in the bunker, strapped to the chair that signified hope and salvation. Sam’s voice, laced with brotherly concern, broke through the haze, “Dean, we’re going to cure you. You’re going to be okay.”

As the ritual began, Dean’s demonic rage battled against the love for his family. It was a tumultuous fight, but as the purified blood was shooting through his veins, the demon’s hold began to wane. And in that moment, Dean realized the truth—the jealousy, the anger, it was all part of the demon. The real Dean, the human Dean, was still there, fighting to come back.

With each passing second, the demon’s grip loosened, and Dean’s humanity started to resurface. When the final vile of blood was injected, a serene calmness washed over him. His eyes, once a symbol of the demon within, returned to their human state.

Dean looked up at his brother and best friend, a weak but genuine smile gracing his lips. “you look worried fellas,” he whispered. The cure had worked, and Dean Winchester was back. Sam threw holy water in his face just be on the safe side, no reaction "welcome back Dean" Sammy said with a smile on his face.

Dean took a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes softening as he looks at you, his girlfriend. Guilt washed over him as he remembers how he treated you. After Dean’s harrowing experience as a demon, he yearns to make amends with you. The darkness that consumed him has been lifted, and now he seeks redemption. His heart aches with remorse, and he longs to prove his love and loyalty.

Together, you both navigate the fragile balance between forgiveness and healing. Dean’s eyes hold a mixture of determination and vulnerability as he strives to rebuild what was shattered. He knows he can never fully erase the pain he caused, but he’s willing to fight for your trust.

Late nights find you both sitting on the Impala’s hood, sharing whispered confessions under the star-studded sky. Dean’s calloused fingers trace patterns on your palm, seeking solace in your touch. He recounts tales of battles fought, sacrifices made, and the darkness that threatened to consume him. But now, he’s determined to cherish every moment with you.

He surprises you with small gestures: a stolen kiss in the bunker’s library, a mixtape of classic rock songs that remind him of your laughter, and a single red rose left on your pillow. Dean’s love language is action, and he shows it through acts of service—fixing the broken coffee machine, cooking breakfast, and holding you close during thunderstorms.

As the sun sets, casting a warm glow over the Impala’s worn leather seats, Dean whispers promises against your lips. Promises of forever, of fighting side by side, and of creating a future beyond the supernatural battles. His eyes hold yours, and you see the vulnerability—the fear of losing you again.

But you, too, have scars. You’ve witnessed Dean’s darkest moments, and forgiveness doesn’t come easily. Yet, when he looks at you with those green eyes, filled with hope and remorse, you find yourself softening. Love is messy, complicated, and sometimes painful, but it’s also resilient.

So, you take Dean’s hand, intertwining your fingers, and lean your head against his shoulder. The Impala’s engine hums, a comforting lullaby. Together, you drive toward the horizon, leaving behind demons and regrets. Dean’s love is imperfect, but it’s yours—a promise etched into the fabric of your shared history.

And as the road stretches ahead, you both know that redemption isn’t about erasing the past; it’s about building a better future—one where love conquers darkness, and Dean Winchester fights not just for survival but for the chance to be worthy of your heart.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

[agreyrose]

Just so you know Dean smokes cigarettes. In case you were wondering this man has a crippling nicotine addiction. Maybe it started with stress, maybe it started from watching John, maybe it started to curb his appetite when he couldn’t steal enough food for the two of them, who knows. Sam has to yell at him not to light one up in the hotel room when he first wakes up in morning. Cas takes every chance he gets healing Dean from other injuries to also take a moment to heal his lungs just a little. Dean doesn’t realize that’s what’s happening, but taking that first deep breath after Cas heals him is his favorite part every time. Aside from Cas touching him, of course. And he doesn’t smoke in the impala, obviously. But the soot and smoke cling to the leather jacket, to the cord of the samulet, to his fingertips. He always has a pack of them in his jacket, in the center console, on the night stand next to whatever bed he’s sleeping in that night. He’s not picky, he’ll smoke whatever. Marlboro, menthol, newports, doesn’t matter, as long as it’s got nicotine in it. Sam gives him so much shit about it, Dean ignores him. Cas wishes he wouldn’t, but he knows he can’t stop him. So yeah. Dean Winchester is a smoker, even if the CW is a little bitch who censors him. Takes one to know one, and I know.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

She Stays (Part 3)

Summary: Could you please write one where student!reader appears in Supernatural universe taken from normal life and becomes an angel? Pairing Sam/reader?

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Sam x student!/angel!reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: Wow this is only how many years late? I know it’s been asked for many times for more of She Stays and here it is! Please enjoy this final part!

________

“Ow,” you heard Dean shout from the kitchen. When you came in he was sucking on his finger. “Cut it,” he mumbled, moving to the sink to run it under some water. He hissed as the cold hurt and you yanked his hand away.

“That needs stitches,” you said, Dean letting you twist his hand around. He smiled as he nodded approvingly.

“Yes it does,” he said, your hand reaching out and pulling a fresh towel to wrap it in. “You’re coming up to speed on the medical side of things,” he said. “Sammy’s been a good teacher.”

“I like when Sam teaches me,” you said, pulling him along to grab a first aid kit. “You on the other hand...”

“I’m an asshole who doesn’t give you an inch of slack, right?” asked Dean, putting on his mentor face. “Sam would go too easy on you in fights and target practice. You know it too.”

“I know, Dean,” you said, fiddling through the bag to find a needle and thread. “I don’t feel like I make any progress with you though. Sam tells me I’m doing a good job at least.”

“Kid,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist before you grabbed the supplies you needed. “You’ve come a long way in two months. I might even let you go on a salt and burn by yourself.”

“Really?” you said, eyes lighting up. 

“No, but only because Sam would kill me,” said Dean, chuckling as he moved your hand to the towel. “I know you can stitch and blood doesn’t bother you. Go ahead and try.”

“No, Dean,” you said, jerking your hand back. He frowned and feigned sorrow.

“Guess I’ll just bleed out since, Fledgy wouldn’t help me,” said Dean, holding up his finger.

“I need Cas,” you said, Dean scowling hard as he hoped onto the counter. The hunting stuff, that wasn’t so bad compared to knowing you had these abilities. You were still too scared to use them without Cas close by, afraid of hurting someone. 

“I trust you,” said Dean, holding out his hand. “I’m in worlds of pain here, Kid. Help a guy out.”

“Dean, I don’t want to,” you said, reaching for the medical bag again. “Angel stuff is not your area, remember, it’s Cas’.”

“I’m also bad cop,” said Dean. “Now try or I’ll work you so hard today so you’ll be too tired to go on your first date with Sammy.”

“Thank dad you’re not my soulmate,” you said, Dean chuckling as you grabbed his wrist. “Just don’t move or anything.” Dean stopped playing as he moved the towel back and you saw it still gushing blood. You thought of how big a cut it was, how it was deep and throbbing. You pictured it in your mind and then how it was supposed to be. 

Dean shut his eyes as you let warmth trickle from your fingers and told your grace to heal him. Dean jerked a little but when you pulled back he was good as new.

“I didn’t tell you about the bruise on my knee,” said Dean, shoving his pants up and seeing the black and blue mark missing.

“I wanted it to heal whatever was wrong with you,” you said a little timid. It felt intimate to heal someone, like you were touching their pain for the briefest of moments.

“I won’t tell Cas if you won’t,” said Dean, hopping off the counter. “Now it’s time for your surprise.”

“Please no more push ups today,” you said, Dean chuckling as he pushed on your shoulders.

“You’re going on your first date with your soulmate tonight, kid,” said Dean. “I’m taking you to the mall to go pick out whatever you want to wear. Then I’ll tell you a bunch of horribly embarrassing stuff about Sam you can bring up at dinner if you feel so inclined.”

“You’re such a good big brother,” you said, Dean already moving the two of you towards the garage.

Dean had surprisingly been a good shopping buddy. You picked out a few simple black dresses but Dean had found one with an open back that you fell in love with. You weren’t sure at first how it would look on you but once you were in a pair of heels even you couldn’t help but think you looked hot.

Leaving your room wearing it that night, knowing it was just you and Sam in the bunker, you felt a little silly. You weren’t going out or anything, it was dinner at home. But Sam had asked if you could wear a dress so your first date wasn’t in flannels and ripped jeans and you wouldn’t deny him that request.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Sam, working over the stove. “Could you grab...” he trailed off when he spun around and saw you. You could feel him light up as he lost the ability to speak.

“Plates?” you asked, Sam nodding, his eyes glued to every part of you. “Sam, I’m not that pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous,” said Sam, a little breathy. “You’re always beautiful but...I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”

“Slight improvement over you sweats and tee from that first day,” you said, stepping beside him to reach plates from the cupboard.

“You’re comparing apples and oranges babe,” said Sam, reaching up and grabbing the too high plates for you, an excuse to get you close dawning on you. “I love both those outfits. Anything really. I can almost see your wings in your back like that.”

“Sam,” you said, looking down shyly. “I don’t have my wings yet.”

“Yes you do,” he said, ignoring the cooking and running a hand up to the back of your neck. “They’re just very small right now,” said Sam, his hand moving lower and lower until his long fingers scrapped over the ridge of your shoulder blade.

You giggled as it tickled, the motion pulling something from you that you hadn’t quite felt before. 

“Beautiful snow white,” said Sam. “They’re right there, just under the skin. I can’t wait to see them when you’re full grown.”

“How do you know what they look like if you can’t see them?” you asked, resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. You would stay like this forever, him touching this vulnerable spot you didn’t know you had, making you tingle and smile all over.

“I just know,” said Sam, tilting your head back so he could cup your cheek. “I’m glad we took it slow. Got to be best friends first before trying this.”

“There’s no trying, this is...” you said, letting your angel side take over for a minute. “Cas told me something, about fledglings.”

“You’re very pure creatures,” said Sam. “It’s okay, Y/N. He told me too.”

“Then you know we can’t get frisky or anything like that at all,” you said, backing away from him, seeing the hurt on his face. “Where I came from, it didn’t matter but here...you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Spending forever with my soulmate? Yes that does sound awful,” said Sam, taking a step closer wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m not scared, Fledgy. I will never pressure you one way or the other. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a preference for how things will turn out between us.”

“I’m not too young?” you asked, Sam unable to fight back a laugh.

“That’s...that’s what you’ve been worried about?” asked Sam with a smile. “I’m barely older. Fledgy, I love you. Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever stop that. Before you ask, I love you for you, not because of this soulmate thing. I’ve felt that perfect at home feeling with you every second I’m with you since the start, before we touched.”

“Can we eat dinner later?” you asked, the burnt smell of chicken filling your nose. “I’d like to do something with you first.”

“Make me yours, Y/N.”

Dean got home after midnight, only slightly buzzed as he found you and Sam eating pizza on the counter in pajamas.

“How’d the date go you two?” asked Dean, stealing a piece of your leftovers. “Going to be a second one?”

“Yup,” you said, Sam eyeing you up and down.

“Yup,” said Sam, a smirk on his face.

“Is this some couple thing or some angel thing?” asked Dean, watching the both of you. “Or did you two do it finally?”

“All of the above,” you said, Sam smacking your arm playfully. “Hey, someday I’m going to be stronger than you ya know.”

“That’ll be fun in bed,” said Sam, winking as Dean looked ready to gag. “Fledgy’s growing up,” said Sam, holding up a single perfect snow white feather. Just like he’d said it be.

“Angel’s getting her wings, huh? All you two had to do was go at it?” asked Dean, genuinely curious about the fledgling rules as they seemed to differ than a normal angel.

“Actually, it kind of...made me more human in certain areas,” you said, wondering if Dean would be angry. “Mating as a fledgling, with a human, it turns off that angel bit that let’s me...live forever. Normal life expectancy for me now.”

“Makes sense,” said Dean, both you and Sam raising an eyebrow. “Why would Chuck make soulmates that don’t get to be together when it’s all said and done? You two must really like each other to do that.”

“He’s okay,” you said, bumping into Sam’s ribs with a smile.

“It’s not so bad having an angel looking out for me,” said Sam, holding onto your feather like it was precious. 

“So you get anything else new while I was out beside some feathers?” Dean asked, silently reaching out to Sam asking to look at the one in his hand. Sam handed it over carefully as Dean inspected it. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool.”

“Too bad you can’t see them like Sam,” you said, moving your left wing to tickle his arm, still so small it didn’t jut out past your back, Sam smirking and Dean looking on confused.

“Don’t stay up too late having angel sex, we’re going to work on werewolves tomorrow,” said Dean. “Night Sammy. Fledgy.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a full day a head of you,” said Sam. “Make sure to carve in some time for your boyfriend if you can.”

“I can always make time for him,” you said, brushing your wing up against his arm again, making Sam laugh. 

“Let’s go to bed,” said Sam, hopping off the counter and picking you up.

“I’m not tired though,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I said go to bed, not sleep, Fledgy,” said Sam with a wink. “I got too much energy I need to burn off before I even think about curling up with you all night long.”

__________

[gococogo]

Hello would it be ok to have a destiel fanfic with prompts "Just like we promised" and "I've missed your touch" i love ur work <3

Prompt 1 | Destiel

Synopsis: Dean has been out on a hunt for over a month and hasn't called Cas at all. He's still getting use to this whole fucking an angel thing.

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: Angst. Sappy. Smutty.

Notes: It's more than okay to want this. This was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy what i created! Enjoy!

The pacing became a constant thing on the fourth week. On the fifth, the nail biting had started. A bad habit he’s picked up from Sam out of all people, a nasty human habit. But the satisfaction behind it to relieve stress almost calms Cas’s nerves. He had paced from the main foyer to the kitchen to Dean’s room. Dean’s room is one of the main places that Castiel had resided.

When the sixth week came around, Cas’s nails were all chewed off and he had began picking at the skin around them. Dean was meant to call an entire week ago. No SMS either. No even a single prayer. Complete radio silence.

Sam had given Castiel Charlie’s number in case he got bored. Dean had made a comment about Charlie’s Angels. Something Cas didn’t understand until he had looked it up on his own phone later that day. But Sam had insisted yet Castiel declined saying he would be perfectly fine, for angel’s cannot feel human depths of boredom, just passing time.

One thousand and eight hours and six minutes to be exact. So, the angel isn’t bored per say, just very, deathly worried about Dean. And Sam.

The fourth day of the sixth week, the chunk and click of the bunker door snaps Castiel out of his trance in the main foyer. He stands up from where he sits at the table as laughter and voices burst into the bunker. By God is it good to hear their voices but at the same time it brings out so many bad emotions that vibrate his being and make him grind his teeth.

Sam is first to walk down the stairs, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a grin upon his face. When he spots the angel, his smile faulters. He tries his best to play it off but Cas sees the uncertainty.

“Oh, Castiel!” Sam says more surprised than anything, “I didn’t expect you to still be here!” He speaks as if the conversation they had over a month ago never happened. Which only -what’s that word Dean uses- pisses him off even more.

“I’ve been here this entire time,” Cas grumbles.

Which is below an angel of the lord like himself but the frustration flickering around inside of him is something that he hasn’t felt in a good while. Probably since apocalypse days.

“Cas!”

All eyes go to the older brother making his way down the stairs. Unlike Sam, Dean isn’t unscathed. His lip is busted, and his entire right eye is blackened. His eyebrow is split, and three gauze strips hold it together.

As soon as Dean comes down the last set of stairs, Cas is already across the room pushing past Sam to press two fingers to his forehead. The hunter straightens up at the sudden wellness that comes over him. His bruising disappears and fades into yellow and the cuts and scrapes heal without a scar. He goes to thank the angel but all he sees is a very frustrated one in front of him.

“You were suppose to contact me,” Castiel speaks firmly. Like angel of the lord firm. “But I received none of the sort.”

Sam goes deathly quiet behind them. He places his duffle bag of guns and knives on the table which make a louder noise than he originally intended. As if the sound is cutting through the thick tension in the room.  

Dean sucks in air through teeth as he tries to avoid eye contact with the angel. But it doesn’t matter where he looks because Cas is only a few inches from him. So those deep blue eyes is all he sees.

“The hunt got very busy, Cas you know how it gets,” Dean argues poorly as he shrugs his shoulders. “We didn’t have time.”

“We had plenty of time,” Sam comments from the table.

Castiel slowly turns his attention towards Sam with a frown. All while Dean looks to his brother with a look of betrayal mixed with disgust. Sam swallows thickly and picks up his duffle bag.

“I’ll go put these away in the stash,” Sam grins sheepishly as he scoots himself across the room.

Blue returns back to green who looks more like a hurt child than anything. And all that anger and frustration is slow to wash away as Cas brings a hand to Dean’s cheek. The hunter flinches away slightly at first but stays in the warm touch of the angel.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

The angel lets out a deep sigh that has his shoulders drooping. Oh Dean.

“I’m…” The hunter clears his throat, readjusting his tone to something more manlier. “I’m still very new to this. To us.”

Cas holds Dean’s face in both his hands, almost engulfing his face but the hunter stays so still. Why still keep up this façade that doesn’t work on the angel? He’s seen him break and cry and become soft so many times. Why still keep up daddy’s good lil soldier in front of him?

A soft kiss is planted on Dean’s forehead over his once black eye. Then, like all the other times Cas has kissed Dean, he kisses the hunter gently and warmly. The heat that the angel radiates is like a furnace yet so inviting.

Dean grabs onto Castiel’s trench coat as he leans forward, deepening the kiss a little. In this moment, Cas can put his own irritation aside for this. He holds Dean, taste the hint of jerky on his mouth from the trip here. It isn’t the most pleasant of tastes, but Dean has kissed him with worst. Much worse.

Calloused hands make their way under Cas’s coat to his waist. This, this is something the angel has missed. Even if it has been a month and two weeks. Too long for his own good.

Unlike Cas, Dean pulls away to inhale a breath of air. The hunter smiles something wicked and Cas’s eyes slightly widen. Dean’s fingers loop into Cas’s belt and flips the buckle open a little too swiftly and a little too eagerly. A soft grip latches onto his wrist, stopping him in his movements. Dean raises a brow at the angel.

“I don’t think Sam will be too impressed if he catches us out here,” Castiel points out sternly, “Like last time.”

Dean barks out a fit of laughter, the memory coming to mind of Sam’s horrified face at the sight of the two. Dean splayed out on the table with the angel over him, his blue eyes as wide as saucepans. Both stark ass naked with the angel’s white butt out on full display.

“Why not?” Dean chuckles out.

Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. With his grip still on Dean’s wrist he begins backing up slowly across the foyer, dragging Dean along.

“You worry too much,” Dean grins.

“I don’t think I worry enough,” Cas bites back playfully.

Dean stops the angel and draws him into for another deep kiss. One that has him gripping the back of Cas’s hair and looping his fingers back into his belt. Dean pulls away but only mere millimetres, not wanting to stay away for too long.

Those green eyes lock onto the angel and Cas won’t lie, he’s missed those emeralds. He runs a thumb over Dean’s freckled cheek and smiles softly when he sees that everything is the same. No more bruises or cuts. Dean follows the notion with a side eye, almost wanting to pull away but staying still and stiffens under the touch.

It takes both of them a good while to get back to Dean’s room. Having to push the hunter there rather than drag him along since he kept stopping Cas. He isn’t vocal about it but he can tell that the hunter can’t keep his hands off of Cas.

Clothes come off a little too easily and Cas can’t help but frown when he spots more cuts and bruises on Dean’s frame. With soft touches, Cas heals them without a second thought. Dean shivers under the touch, his eyes tracking every movement. With a warm glow, Cas heals a deep purple bruise on Dean’s chest that has the hunter breathing a little easier. But with that he pushes Dean back onto the bed. The springs creak under his weight and he disrupts the perfectly made blankets. Cas’s work.

Dean tries to sit up on the bed but is pushed down again when Cas straddles his lap. He runs his hands over Dean’s body once more, making sure that he hasn’t missed any nicks and cuts. He could heal Dean in one go, but where’s the fun in that?

“I’ve…” Dean hesitates, adverting his gaze downwards to the angel’s hands. “I’ve missed your touch.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums at that with a smile.

“I wish I had called,” Dean continues. “Or sent a text. But I’m scared alright. As stupid as that sounds.”

The angel’s smile falls at that. To respond to that, he clasps the hunter’s face in his hands and kisses him softly unlike before. He moves his hips down on Dean as well, making the hunter squirm under his weight. Maybe he can forgive Dean after all.

In between the kisses, the angel mumbles out, “It’s not stupid at all.”

The result of watching Dean’s face go beet red is a reward in it’s own. Cas kisses him again, humming into his mouth with satisfaction. Such a human thing to do. How much he’s changed since being around Dean. He’s changed him so much. Does Dean realize just how much he’s done for the angel? Or is he blind to that fact? Maybe he might have to ask him one day. But not now.

Not when he feels Dean’s grip tighten on his hips, wanting him to grind down harder into him. The friction is something that the hunter craves at this moment. He grows hard and his dick rubs in between the angel’s cheeks. Precum leaks from Dean’s dick, making the glide easier.

Cas sits up slowly and as if out of nowhere, he holds Dean’s bottle of lube in hand. Dean’s stares at it bug eyed for a moment but doesn’t question it because he knows he left that in the bottom draw of his dresser. Where it normally stays. Either Cas miraculously brought the bottle to his hand or it was always on the bed and he just didn’t see it. Either either, both make sense for the angel.

“Let me,” Dean says as he takes the bottle from him.

Lathering his fingers up generously, Dean a little too eagerly brings his hand around Cas’s ass and inserts two fingers. The angel grunts at the sudden penetration, his eyes fluttering shut. With Dean’s other hand as he sets a quick pace to open up Cas, he kneads his thumb into the angel’s hips. Holding on as if he’s going to fly away with those wings of his.

Cas towers over Dean, scrunching up the blankets into his fists next to the hunter’s head. More lube is added and then a third finger is fitted right to the next others. Cas’s breathing becomes heavy, every nerve in his body buzzing and every inch of his grace humming. He can feel everything a little too well for his own good. The stretch of the three fingers, the way his hard cock rubs up against Dean’s, the way that he’s been wanting to feel Dean’s touch once more. Too much.

Deeming the angel ready, Dean brings his lubed fingers to slick his own dick up. He exhales shakily, holding himself together by a thread. The entire hunt, the Angel of Thursday was on his mind yet he was too coward to send a simple prayer. Next time. Next time we won’t be so stupid.

Cas exhales shakily, opening his eyes to meet a lustful green graze. The angel looks into those eyes fondly with a smile coming upon his reddened lips. He kisses Dean again, this time deepening it and grinding down on the hunter again. Dean grunts under him and digs that thumb into his hip a little more.

Dean guides the head of his dick to Cas’s ass, rubbing himself between his cheeks a few times. He pushes the tip of his dick in, humming in the kiss at the warmth he feels. He pushes in a little deeper and breaks the kiss, his face scrunching up into something needy. Cas continues lining Dean’s exposed neck though with small kisses, sucking and biting lightly. Dean groans as he grabs onto the angel’s hips with both hands to help guide him down.

Cas winces but moans something whiny into the hunter’s skin. He still smells like the hunt. Gun powder, cheap pharmacy cologne and musk. Dean grunts with every push. He fucks into Cas eagerly, but the angel isn’t going to stop him. He’s enjoying this too much. He’s missed Dean too much to let this pass. His body buzzes and constricts with pleasure that he can’t help the noises that comes his mouth. He can feel himself shaking in the hunter’s hold, his grace vibrating within.

Dean pushes Cas down onto him until he’s flush against his hips. The angel groans and breathes heavily as Dean only gives him a few seconds of adjustment before he begins a quick pace again. Each time he thrusts into Cas, he brings the angel down just as hard that gets a satisfying grunt from him.

The hunter sits up suddenly, still holding onto Cas so that they’re flush against each other. With each movement, Cas’s dick rubs up against their stomachs. The angel holds onto him as he lets the hunter fucks out everything from the hunt. Dean groans deep within his throat as he keeps moving at a constant pace, thrusting into Cas on his lap. It’s more of an awkward bob at this point, both being too desperate to do much more. But both are satisfied right now.

But Dean wants more.  Suddenly, he flips and throws Cas onto the bed with little effort. He grabs onto the back of the angel’s knees and pushes his legs up so that he’s almost folded in half. He lines himself up again, this time slipping in easier than the last.  

The new angle has Cas shivering and grunting with each thrust into him. He digs his fingernails into Dean’s shoulder, unable to gain control of the delicious noises coming from his throat.

Through shaky pants, Dean is able to grumble out a deep, “I’ve missed you.”

Another shiver runs down Cas’s back, earning a whimper like sound from him. The hunter’s cock passes by that sweet bundle of nerves inside of Cas that has him grunting with each movement. Cas wraps his legs around Dean, holding him close as the hunter’s thrust become short and shallow. Dean comes down for a sloppy kiss, mostly broken by breaths of shaky inhales.

“I’ve-“ Dean pecks Cas on the mouth, cutting him off. “missed you-“ another kiss, “…too.”

Dean brings a hand down to wrap about the angel’s leaking cock, flicking a thumb over his tip with every stroke. Cas arches his back the best he can in the position he’s in and startles out a cry. By God, he can feel himself getting close. His body buzzes and feels like tv static with just a simple touch. He doesn’t want this to be over already, but with Dean abusing that sweet part inside of him he can’t hold on at all.

Cas chokes out a strangled cry as his whole body and grace feels like it’s going to explode. He releases hot strips into Dean’s hand as he digs his bitten nails deeper into the hunter’s shoulders. He heals the bruising before it even comes about, even in his stare of high. Dean keeps fucking through his orgasm, making it ten times more intense.

“Dean,” Cas grits out.

With a few couple of more hard thrusts, Dean drives his cock deeper into Cas as he reaches his own orgasm. Dean stiffens up, unmoving as he cums hot and deep within the angel. Who would have thought. Fucking an angel of the lord.

Cas shivers at the new sensation of the warmth inside of him. He grits his teeth, holding Dean in place. He doesn’t think he can handle the hunter moving at this given moment. Both stay still for a good few minutes, a panting and sweaty mess. Cas can’t help but shake faintly, his breathing ragged and uneven. He can feel his grace is all over the place and he tries his best to collect himself.

But it’s very hard when Dean lands on top of the angel with an audible, “Oof,” slipping out of the angel in the process. Cas places a hand on his back and gives him a light pat on the shoulder. But Dean doesn’t move and inch, his face flat against the nape of his neck.

“I’m coming with you next time,” Cas grumbles out.

Whatever Dean says next, it’s lost into a mumble and jumble of words in the angel’s neck. This earns a short chuff from the angel, knowing full well that the hunter can’t stop him in doing so. What he says goes. But right now, he’s fully content in laying in for a few minutes. He’s fine in letting time pass by when it’s with Dean Winchester.

-

Have an amazing day/night ;)

[fellshish]

Here’s all my post confession fix-its

The frenching mistake: the french mistake but they were filming the destiel kiss in 15x18

Dean daily: social media fic of dean being a total dumbass

Death of a salesman: dean arrives in heaven and cas panics so he pretends to be jimmy novak

Time for a gay wedding: dean is not sure the i love you was gay soooo he proposes

5 times: dean is so touch starved he keeps getting hurt so cas would have to heal him

What to do when a good man hurts you: to prevent cas from achieving true happiness dean turns down cas cruelly

The jensen mistake: jensen hates the finale so he french mistakes himself and fixes destiel too

Lazy ass rising: possession fic where cas lovingly takes care of dean’s body post confession

We’re not in kansas anymore: cas kills kansas the band to surprise dean in heaven

[casdeans-pie]

A Brand Not Unwanted

Destiel

Words: 497

Rating: T

Tags: Drabble, Fluff, Castiel's Handprint, Suggestive?

Castiel's handprint got healed away a long time ago, and if Dean could be honest with himself he kind of misses it. So he's not sure how he feels when he notices that it seems to have come back... He wants to touch it....

---Read on AO3---

The handprint had been getting bolder for a while, but Dean had never seen it this colour – not since the first time he’d pulled up his sleeve at that grimy gas station. He poked at the edge of the red skin with his finger, feeling the way that it raised up slightly from the rest of his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it looked like it should. It tingled sometimes.

Dean wiped away the condensation that had formed on the mirror from his shower and twisted his body slightly so that he could see the mark better on his reflection.

He wondered if the permanent scar of his best friend’s handprint magically reappearing on his body should bother him, but it didn’t really. It looked kind of badass.

Dean wiped away the condensation that had reformed.

Cas had big hands.

Long fingers.

Dean stared at the mark for a moment longer and then slowly brought his other hand up, hovering it directly over – lining them up.

For a moment he held still.

Then he pressed down hard.

A loud crash sounded from somewhere in the bunker that made Dean jump, and a flurry of wingbeat sounds announced Cas’s arrival just before Dean spotted him appearing in the mirror behind him. For a second neither of them moved, though Cas seemed to be catching his breath, his hair messy and windswept, and with his wide eyes locked onto Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean-” Cas began, his voice rough and strained.

Then reality came crashing back down.

“Jesus Cas, warn a guy!” Dean yelped as he grabbed the towel he’d draped over the sink and wrapped it quickly around his waist, almost dropping it again a couple of times in his haste. “Just ‘cause Jack gave you your wings back does not mean you get to just fly in here without freaking knocking.”

“Your… the… my…” Cas rumbled, uncharacteristically stumbling over his words.

Dean tried not to focus on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the heat at the back of his neck.

“It’s back,” Cas finally managed, his expression so full of awe and wonder in the mirror that Dean had a hard time keeping a fond smile from twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah.” Dean turned around to face him, towel now wrapped firmly around his waist, and leaned back against the sink. “Magically reappearing scar isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, but it’s up there…” He left that statement hang for a moment before he added, “Huh… Actually, y’know what, I don’t think it is.” He scratched at his cheek and the stubble he had been about to shave off caught under his nails. “But it’s still weird.”

Cas’s hand twitched by his side, and he curled his fingers into a fist, as if he had to stop himself from reaching forwards. His eyes, almost glowing in their intensity, shifted from the handprint to Dean’s own. “You… have my mark again.”

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Break A Leg - Castiel

My Masterlist.

Word count: 750, short n fluffy

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader with a broken leg sleeps at the table because they don't think they can make it back to their room. Cas finds them, and even though he can't heal them, he finds a way to make up for it.

I groaned, stretching my leg out. I stretched the rest of my stiff muscles, wincing when a jolt of pain traveled up my leg. Blinking hard, I widened my eyes and tried to get them to focus. The room spun a little, forcing me to squeeze them shut again before I threw up. 

I hunched over the table, soon finding my forehead on the table when I began to drift off. I needed sleep. Looking down at my leg in its cast though, I was almost positive I wouldn't be able to make it to my room without falling down. I groaned again, shutting the old book and placing it further away from me on the desk. Shrugging out of my flannel, I balled it up into a makeshift pillow. I crossed my arms in front of me, and I was asleep as soon as my head was cradled in my elbows. 

Castiel pulled the bunker door shut behind him. "Sam. Dean." He called out. Wandering through the halls with a bit of purpose in his stride, he saw a figure, their leg in a cast, slumped over the library table. 

The book was closed, and he frowned. They hadn't fallen asleep doing research, they had intentionally fallen asleep here. Their broken leg was stretched out in front of them, clunky with the cast.

He wished he could heal them. 

A hand touched my shoulder, and I startled awake. My eyes were blurry with sleep, but I recognized the tan coat the person in front of me wore. "Cas?" I groaned, stretching my arms out in front of me and turning to him.

"You slept here? Intentionally?" He asked me immediately.

"No I- I guess I fell asleep doing research." I smiled apologetically. "Every little bit helps, right?" 

He was frowning now. "The book is closed." He said flatly.

"And? Nevermind, just-" I winced at a sore muscle in my neck. "Should've known that was going to happen." I muttered under my breath.

"You need to sleep. In a bed." 

"No shit sherlock." I sighed. "But I'm fine now."

"No, come on." Before I could protest, he was hauling me to my feet. I staggered slightly, but he was careful not to let my injury get jarred. 

"Why didn't you go back to your room?" He asked as we limped down the hall. 

"Wasn't sure I could make it." I mumbled abashedly. He was silent until we got to my room, and he had helped me to sit on my bed.

"I should be able to heal you. I'm sorry." He apologized, guilt evident on his face as he pulled away.

"It's okay, Cas. Hey," I said to get his attention back on me. His gaze had drifted off like it did when he was beating himself up over something. He turned back to me. "It's fine. Don't blame yourself." 

"If I had my grace-" 

I cut him off. "Don't even go there." I said sternly. "It's not your fault." He sighed, but didn't reply. His frown had lessened, but I knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. 

"If you want to make it up with me…" I trailed off, and his eyes met mine as he tilted his head to the side. "You can stay here." 

"I will." He shifted on the edge of the bed.

"Get comfy."

"I am." 

"No Cas," I stifled a laugh, but not my smile. He gave me a curious glance. "Lay down. Get comfy."

"Oh." 

I was quick to add. "If you're comfortable with that, of course. You don't have to-"

"I'm more than comfortable with it." He had a fond smile on his face now. I felt my face heat up when I wondered what he meant by that. 

He kicked his shoes off and shrugged out of his coat and jacket. I scooted to the side with a wince. "Careful." He murmured. He laid beside me in a half sitting, half lying down position. I startled slightly when his arm snaked around my shoulders. 

"I'm sorry, is-"

"No, no. It's more than comfortable." I repeated him, smiling as I leaned against him. Sighing contentedly, my aching body finally relaxed for the first time in days. I felt Castiel lean his chin on the top of my head, and his hand wrapped around my bicep as I unconsciously curled closer to him. I had been more exhausted than I thought, because in his presence, I passed out almost instantly. 

[via-l0ve]

How do you think the Supernatural guys would react to someone wearing a cute nurse outfit and fixing them up when they're injured? 😏💕

Nurse (SPN pref!🩷)

a/n: i went seggsual with this one. hope you enjoy anon🩷

warnings: suggestive, swearing, 

Dean:

right when he sees you he is not injured anymore

he’s watching your body in that goddamn outfit and just wowowowowow

let’s say he somehow has the self control to not take you right then and there and just watches you work on him and he totally 2000000% gets a boner just staring at you

“you want me to help you out with that too?”

he wants you to keep the outfit on while he fucks you

sorry but he’s not holding back this is DEAN WINCHESTER we’re talking about

he’s got no self control around pretty people and you’re the prettiest ever

ride him he’ll die and be reborn

literally he’s never letting you forget this

he’s begging you to always wear that from now on omg

he can’t hold back he’s giving you hickeys all over and grabbing any part of you he can

injuries? never heard of them

Sam:

he can’t hold himself back

he’s laying down and you walk up and he just woah woah

“y/n?”

you touch him and start patching up his wounds and he just woah woah woah woah

he’s flabbergasted again

he touches you and tries to keep it PG but he literally cannot

he’s groping ur ass while you lean over him to patch him up.

“wait you missed a spot.”

“sam. where else are you hurt?”

“take my pants off and you can find out.”

he’s railing you

no hold backs

ravishing you.

Casitel:

BLUSHINGGGG

he goes all red

“y-y/n?”

“i jus’ wanna make you feel better, Cas.”

he’s frozen.

“you know, you’re allowed to touch me.”

“i-o-i-okay..”

awwww he’s such a mess

“you look… perfect. like this.”

you make the first move and ‘accidentally’ grind into him

he’s like ‘oh shit’

grabs your hips and keeps you on his lap

he knows he can heal himself but who would he be to deny an experience like this?

he’s probably the only one that actually lets you patch him up before fucking you senseless

Crowley:

dosent even let you go near him.

bedroom time.

who cares if he got stabbed in the abdomen? hell live. sex first bb

bonus points if you’re wearing nothing under the outfit and he takes it off and sees ur bare body he’s DYING on the spot

fucking you SENSELESS

When he sees you in that outfit he’s just taking you to be his. no take backs

he’s so happy like actually

RAILS you honey

say bye to ur organs ✌️