crow ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 21

⋆𖦹⋆ˎˊ˗ hi my name is crow and I’m a twenty one year old writer from England but I live in Iceland !!!

⋆𖦹⋆ˎˊ˗ Here is where you can find all my links and learn a little bit about me :)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LINKS:

requests open ✧ masterlist ✧ join my taglist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ABOUT ME:

I am a massive nerd with a bunch of different interests as well as a writer I also love cosplaying and art !!

I do struggle with depersonalisation so writing about myself is kinda hard but I’ve loved writing and reading fanfiction since a very early age so finally posting some of it feels amazing~!!!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ABOUT WHAT I WRITE:

pairings: character x reader (of any type platonic, gn, fem, masc etc) ✧ character x character ✧ oc x character ✧ oc x oc

genres: literally anything my favourites are pure fluff and angst >:)

requests: I will take any requests (one shots, drabbles you name it !!!)

what I currently enjoy writing for: supernatural (the brianrot is real)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MY INTERESTS:

TV/MOVIES:

supernatural ✧ doctor who ✧ the Pitt ✧ MHA ✧ the boys ✧ shameless ✧ studio ghibli movies ✧ the walking dead ✧ last night in soho ✧ maze runner

GAMES:

shadow of the colossus ✧ genshin impact ✧ dispatch ✧ minecraft ✧ nino-kuni wrath of the white witch ✧ baldurs gate 3 ✧ fnaf

YOUTUBERS:

James Marriott (if he even counts as a yter anymore) ✧ willNE ✧ the hermits/life series creators ✧ CdawgVA ✧ Dan and Phil ✧ Danny Gonzales ✧ jacksepticeye ✧ moistcritial ✧ smosh ✧ Jschlatt ✧ pyrocynical ✧ ironmouse

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paring: sam winchester x fem!reader

genre: MDNI, SMUT SMUT SMUT !!!! dirty dreams, HELLA DIRTY TALK, use of ‘good girl,’ kinda inspired by that one episode where Sam had that dream about Bella

Sam's head lolled forward, the worn leather of the motel chair creaking under his weight. His fingers were still wrapped around a half empty beer bottle condensation dripping onto the faded jeans stretched over his thighs. The laptop screen had gone dark minutes ago or was it an hour? He'd been poring over lore about some hellhound variant but exhaustion had finally dragged him under.

The motel room was quiet just the hum of the ancient AC unit and the occasional thump from the room next door. Dean and Y/N were out grabbing food, which meant Sam had the place to himself. He'd meant to stay awake, keep researching but three days of consecutive hunts had left his body screaming for rest.

And before he knew it his head was against the table.

You appeared in the doorway of the motel room, but it wasn't the same door it was softer, warmer somehow and the edges blurred like honey. Sam watched from his chair as you stepped inside, your movements slow and deliberate. You wore that tight black top he'd seen you in earlier, the one that hugged every curve and jeans that sat low on your hips.

"Hey” you said, your voice a low purr that sent a shiver straight to his groin.

Sam's breath hitched. "Hey."

You reached behind your neck, pulling the top over your head in one fluid motion. The fabric slid away, revealing your bare breasts, nipples already hard in the cool air of the dream motel. You tossed the shirt aside your eyes locked on his.

"Been thinking about you all day" you murmured, fingers working the button of your jeans.

Sam's mouth went dry. He couldn't look away, couldn't move. You pushed the jeans down your thighs watching them fall to the floor. You stepped out of them now only in a pair of black lace panties.

"Come here” he rasped, his voice rough with want.

But you didn't walk. You turned slowly bending over to pick up the jeans giving him a perfect view of your ass in those tiny panties. The curve of it, the way the lace stretched over your flesh Sam felt his cock thicken painfully in his jeans.

When you turned back, a smirk played on your lips. You sauntered toward him and stopped just inches from his chair. He could smell you, sweet and musky, that scent he'd caught on your skin during the hunt now amplified and intoxicating.

"Sam” you breathed, reaching out to trace a finger along his jawline.

He grabbed your wrist but not to stop you. His other hand shot out hooking his fingers through the loop on your panties and with a sharp tug he pulled you forward. You stumbled, landing half in his lap, your knees hitting the edge of the chair.

"Fuck” you gasped your hands bracing against his broad chest.

Sam's grip on the loop tightened yanking you again until you were straddling his thighs. The denim of his jeans pressed against the thin lace of your panties. He could feel the heat of your cunt through the fabric a damp warmth that made his dick throb.

"You think you can just walk in here strip down and tease me?" His voice was low a growl that vibrated through his chest “You have no idea what you do to me."

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't look away. "Then show me."

A dark laugh rumbled from him. His hands slid from your hips to your ass gripping hard fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled you closer grinding your core against the thick bulge in his jeans. You moaned your head falling back.

"That's it" Sam said his mouth finding your throat. He licked a hot stripe up the side of your neck then bit down gently on your earlobe. "I love how responsive you are. The way you gasp when I touch you. Like you were made for me."

You whimpered, your hips bucking against his. He could feel your wetness soaking through the lace, leaving a damp patch on his jeans. His control frayed.

"Tell me what you want" he demanded pulling back to look into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, nearly black and his breathing was ragged.

"I want you to fuck me" you said your voice shaking.

"Good girl." He kissed you then hard and demanding, his tongue sliding into your mouth. One hand griped at the base of neck forcing you to tilt your head back, while the other traced down your stomach slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His fingers found your clit already slick and swollen. You gasped against his lips as he circled it with his thumb, pressing just hard enough to make you see stars.

"Look at you" he murmured, his lips brushing yours. "So wet so ready. And it's all for me isn't it?"

"Yes" you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"That's my good fucking girl." He shoved your panties aside, his fingers sliding through your folds, gathering your wetness. He groaned at the feel of you "I'm going to fill this perfect pussy so full of my cock. You're going to take every inch and you're going to love it."

You nodded frantically, your body trembling.

He pushed two fingers inside you, a sudden deep stretch that made you cry out. Your head dropped to his shoulder as he fucked you with his fingers, curling them just right hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

"Please Sam" you begged, your voice a wreck.

"Please what?" He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked them clean tasting you his eyes never leaving yours. "You want my cock? You want me to fuck you until you can't walk?"

"Yes, please, yes!"

He grabbed your hips, positioning you over his lap. His cock strained against his jeans the zipper digging into him. He was about to free himself, to pull it out and bury himself inside you-

The world shifted.

Sam jolted awake, his heart hammering in his chest. The motel room was real again dim, stale and the AC rattling. He was still in the chair, the beer bottle now warm on the desk. But his body was on fire, his cock rock hard and aching, straining against the fly of his jeans.

And then he heard it.

The door clicked open.

You stepped inside, a plastic bag of takeout in your hand. Your eyes landed on him, concern creasing your brow.

"Sam? You okay? You look like you saw a ghost"

He blinked, trying to process. You were fully dressed jeans, a loose flannel, no sign of the black top or lace. The real you, standing there in the ordinary motel room.

"Uh, yeah" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Fine. Just fell asleep."

"Didn't mean to startle you" you set the bag on the small table moving closer. "You sure? You're all red and sweating."

Sam shifted, trying to angle his hips away but the bulge in his jeans was impossible to hide. He grabbed a throw pillow from the chair and dropped it into his lap pressing it down to mask the obvious tent.

"Yeah just a weird dream" he forced a smile. "Nothing to worry about."

You tilted your head, suspicion flickering in your eyes but you let it go. "Alright. Dean'll be back in a few. I got burgers”

Sam nodded gripping the pillow like a lifeline as you turned to unpack the food, he let out a shaky breath his mind still replaying the feel of your skin, your taste, the sound of your moans.

It was just a dream.

But fuck, he wished it wasn't.

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pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: yearning, slight angst to fluff, reader high as hell

notes: sorry for such a shit posting schedule lmao I got married so I’ve been BUSY !! I wrote this at 4am so I hope it’s okay I am too lazy to proof read :’)

The motel room was quiet and sam hated quiet. His phone sat on the table in front of him, screen lit with your last text.

checking out the warehouse now should be easy !! don’t worry !! ;P

Sent six hours ago.

Six.

Hours.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face hard enough to hurt. The stubble along his jaw rasped against his palm, exhaustion sitting heavy behind his eyes. Outside rain tapped steadily against the motel window the neon vacancy sign buzzing faintly red through the curtains.

Dean was pretending not to watch him from the other bed. “You wanna wear a hole in the floor too?” Dean finally asked. Sam stopped pacing only long enough to glare at him before resuming immediately. “They said they’d call.”

“Yeah, well” Dean shrugged “You know how hunters are”

Hunters disappear.

Hunters bleed out alone.

Hunters get cocky.

Hunters die.

Sam’s chest tightened violently because you weren’t just another hunter, that was the problem maybe it had always been the problem.

You had slipped into their lives too easily, sarcastic comments over diner coffee, patching each other up after hunts and falling asleep in the backseat of the Impala during long drives. Somewhere between all of that Sam had looked up one day and realised his entire world tilted toward you.

The way sun looked toward morning.

Pathetic? maybe, dangerous? most definitely

He remembered the argument from earlier with painful clarity. “I can handle one stupid ghost by myself Sam.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

The point was that every time you walked into danger, Sam felt like someone had wrapped a hand around his spine and squeezed, that he knew exactly what it felt like to lose people. The point was that he couldn’t survive losing you.

But he hadn’t said any of that because saying it out loud would crack something open between you both and Sam had spent years carefully holding that thing shut.

Instead he’d snapped “Fine. Go.”

And you had.

Now the silence felt like punishment.

Sam grabbed his jacket again.

Dean sighed. “Dude”

“I’m going”

“You’ve said that five times”

“And I mean it this time”

Dean looked at him for a long moment before tossing him the Impala keys. Sam caught them instantly. “Hospital called twenty minutes ago” Dean said casually “figured you weren’t listening enough to hear me the first time”

Sam froze eerything inside him went cold.

“What?”

“They found your emergency contact number in their wallet”

Your wallet.

Hospital.

Sam’s stomach dropped so hard it hurt.

“Why didn’t you-”

“Because”Dean interrupted, standing “you were already halfway to a panic attack and I wanted to make sure you could still legally drive”

Sam was already moving.

The motel door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Sam pushed through the automatic doors of the hospital so fast a nurse startled aside, his wet boots squeaking against polished floors. Rainwater dripped from his jacket sleeves as he scanned every hallway like he expected to find blood.

“Excuse me” he said breathlessly to the receptionist. “I’m looking for-” She gave sam a look over and named your room before he even finished. “Third floor. They’re okay honey”

Okay.

The word barely registered and Sam moved through the hospital like a storm.

Room numbers blurring together. His heartbeat thundered louder and louder the closer he got.

Please be okay

Please

Please

Room 312

Sam stopped outside the door chest heaving. For one horrible second he couldn’t move.

Because what if “okay” wasn’t really okay?

What if he’d been too late?

His hand shook slightly as he pushed the door open and then-

“Oh my god!”

You were alive, very alive apparently.

Sam blinked.

You were propped up in the hospital bed with a massive bandage wrapped around your shoulder, hair a mess, hospital gown crooked and giggling.

You looked up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. Your entire face lit up. “There he is” you whispered dramatically, sam just stared the crushing terror inside him dissolved so fast it almost made him dizzy.

“You’re okay” he breathed. You gasped loudly like he’d just appeared in a dream sequence.

“The love of my life is here”

The nurse checking your IV snorted so hard she had to look away.

Sam went completely still.

“What?”

You pointed at him with deep concentration “him” you informed the nurse. “That one. Giant sad eyes, Pretty hair That’s my guy.”

Sam’s brain short circuited and the nurse smiled sympathetically “pain meds kicked in about an hour ago.”

“I’m not high” you said with immense dignity, you immediately missed the straw while trying to sip water. Sam moved automatically, catching the cup before it tipped. His hands were gentle despite how badly they trembled.

“You hunted a ghost alone” he said softly under his breath so the nurse didn’t hear, unable to stop staring at you.

“You’re tall.”

“That’s your response?”

“You’re very tall.”

Sam laughed once despite himself shaky and disbelieving, the sound made your expression soften instantly. “There’s that smile” you mumbled. “missed it”

Something warm and dangerous unfurled in Sam’s chest.

The nurse finished adjusting the IV before patting his arm sympathetically on the way out. “Try to keep them from pulling the monitor stickers off again”

“No promises” you whispered conspiratorially.

The door clicked shut behind her and silence settled over the room.

Rain tapped lightly against the window beside your bed while dim hospital lights cast everything gold and sleepy. Sam stepped closer cautiously, like you might disappear if he moved too fast.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

You frowned in intense concentration.

“Got thrown into a wall.”

“That obvious huh?”

“There was also” you continued, counting on your fingers “a table.”

Sam winced.

“And maybe another wall”

“Oh my god”

“But I won” you declared proudly.

“Yeah?” His voice came out rough.

“Mhm.”

You smiled lazily at him.

“Wanted to call you after.”

That hit him straight in the chest. Sam pulled the chair beside your bed closer and sat heavily into it, elbows resting on his knees. Up close he could see the bruising starting along your jaw, the exhaustion hidden beneath the medication haze.

You must’ve been terrified and alone, guilt twisted painfully in his stomach. “I’m sorry” he said quietly. Your eyes blinked open wider. “For what?”

“For the argument” he swallowed hard “I should’ve gone with you.”

“You were worried.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s kinda sweet.”

“No, it’s” Sam exhaled shakily. “It’s frustrating.”

Your hand drifted clumsily across the blanket until it bumped against his wrist. Sam immediately turned his hand over to hold yours the contact settled something frantic inside him, “You care about me” you murmured like it was obvious. Sam stared at your joined hands.

More than you know.

You squinted at him suddenly “why are you red?”

“I’m not red”

“You’re blushing”

“I’m really not.”

“You are” You looked delighted“Sam Winchester you are BLUSHING” Sam groaned softly, covering part of his face with his free hand. “You said I’m the love of your life”

“Because you are” The words landed effortlessly. Simple and matter of fact, like saying the sky was blue, Sam’s ears burned hotter “You don’t mean that,” he muttered weakly, you looked genuinely offended. “I absolutely do”

“The painkillers are talking.”

“No” Your grip tightened surprisingly gently around his hand “I think the painkillers just stopped me from being nervous”

Sam forgot how to breathe for a second the monitor beside the bed beeped steadily, Your thumb brushing slowly against his knuckles.

“You mean that” he said quietly.

You blinked at him.

“Sam.”

The way you said his name nearly undid him, Like it mattered like he mattered. “You came running in here looking like a kicked puppy” you whispered. “You think I don’t know?”

Sam laughed softly under his breath, embarrassed and helpless all at once.

“I was scared”

Your expression softened instantly.

“Oh.”

“You stopped answering your phone and I just…” He looked down, jaw tightening. “I couldn’t think straight.” The teasing melted out of your face completely. “There’s my sweet boy” you murmured affectionately. Sam made an incoherent noise sounding embarrassed, “You really are high.”

“Mhm.” You smiled lazily “and correct.”

Before Sam could answer, you shifted carefully in the bed and patted the space beside you “c’mere”

“I don’t think that’s hospital policy”

“Sam.”

The sleepy demand in your voice made him fold instantly. He stood carefully, easing himself onto the edge of the bed while trying not to jostle your injuries. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. You immediately leaned against him. Sam froze for half a second before wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders.

Relief hit him again in another overwhelming wave you were alive and warm, your head settled against his chest while his chin rested lightly atop your hair. He could hear the faint sleepy hum you made, feel the slow rise and fall of your breathing.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The room glowed dim and peaceful around you.

Sam realised suddenly how close this had all come to going differently and his hold tightened unconsciously.

You noticed immediately. “Hey” you mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly.

“I know.”

“You smell nice”

A startled laugh escaped him. “That came out of nowhere”

“I’m serious.” You snuggled closer with alarming determination for someone attached to hospital equipment. “Very comforting ten outta ten.”

“You are never living this down”

“Worth it”

Sam looked down at you and your eyes were already drifting shut again, medication pulling you toward sleep. “You staying?” you asked quietly. The vulnerability in those two words nearly wrecked him. “Yeah” Sam said immediately. “Course I am” Your smile was small and sleepy and devastatingly fond.

“Knew it”

Within minutes your breathing evened out completely asleep and curled against him. Sam stayed perfectly still, one arm around your shoulders while rain whispered outside the hospital window.

For the first time all night, the fear finally loosened its grip on his chest. You were here. Safe and alive and apparently very, very in love with him Sam ducked his head slightly, unable to stop the helpless smile spreading across his face.

Then very gently, careful not to wake you, he pressed a kiss against the top of your head.

⟡ ݁₊ . Heaven And Whisky

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pairing: castiel x fem!reader

genre: slightly suggestive, drinking, drunken prayers

notes: thank you for the suggestion!!! Sorry this took so long this has been sat in my drafts for a while :’)

The bar’s lights were too bright, strings of amber bulbs that made the edges of the world feel soft and blurry. You hadn’t meant to drink this much. Just enough to quiet the nerves that came whenever you found yourself thinking of him.

And God, you’d been thinking about him all night.

Castiel. The trench coat, the low voice that always seemed to rumble straight through you, the quiet way he’d look at you like he was trying to memorise something eternal. You’d told yourself it was a harmless crush that angels didn’t think that way, and you shouldn’t either but the whiskey in your glass had other opinions.

You swirled the melting ice. “Just one more” you’d said earlier. Now you weren’t so sure that had been a good idea.

At least you’d had the sense to call him. Or… pray, more like. The line between a tipsy thought and a true prayer was blurred tonight. You’d meant to keep it short, just Cas, can you pick me up? but something in your fuzzy, aching head had kept on spinning. The way his hand brushed your shoulder when he healed you last week. The softness under the gravel of his voice. The unearthly blue of his eyes. You wondered what his lips would feel like if he-

“Hey, sweetheart” a voice slurred, dragging you back. A man was leaning on the bar beside you, too close, his grin too confident. “You here alone?”

You smiled politely. “My ride’s on the way”

He didn’t move back. “Don’t see anyone yet.”

You rolled your eyes. Cas can’t get here soon enough you thought and felt a rush of heat in your chest, embarrassment prickling your skin. Because if he could hear you and maybe he could, he’d know. You’d know that I’ve been sitting here thinking about your hands, your voice, the way you watch me like I’m something fragile but you still want to touch.

“C’mon, one more drink” the man insisted, leaning in again. His breath was sour with beer. You pulled back on instinct, your stool scraping the floor.

Then the lights seemed to dim. The hum of noise bent around a new presence, one that vibrated through the bones of the place not loud, but impossible to ignore.

“Her ride” said a voice behind you calm, deep, and edged with something that made the air itself go still “has arrived.”

You turned, pulse jumping. There he was. Trench coat, blue tie slightly askew, that unreadable face. Only tonight, there was something sharper behind his eyes. Something dangerous.

The man took one look, muttered something about not wanting trouble, and slunk away.

Cas’s gaze softened as it landed on you. “You’ve been praying” he said quietly. You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh. You heard that?”

“All of it.” His tone was unreadable, but the almost smile tugging at the corner of his mouth sent a ripple through you. “You were quite… detailed.”

Your face warmed. “I was drunk!”

“Still are” he said, stepping closer, his voice softening. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

As he reached out, his hand brushed your lower back, guiding you gently toward the door. The contact was light, careful but it burned. Your heart fluttered as you leaned into his warmth, realising he could still hear your every stray thought. If you keep touching me like that, I might start praying again.

You felt, rather than heard, his quiet chuckle before the world blinked, and you were gone.

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.✦ ݁˖ Impure thoughts

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pairing: castiel x archangel!reader

genre: 18+ !!! MDNI !!! Dirty thoughts

notes: this is incredibly short but I’m more than happy to write a part two if you’d like !!! <33

The dim warehouse reeked of sulfur and decay, the air thick with the tension of the hunt. Castiel gripped his angel blade tighter, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the demons they'd tracked here. But his focus kept slipping, drawn inexorably to you his Archangel superior, grace radiating like a forbidden flame. Your wings, tucked away but humming with power, made his vessel ache in ways no heavenly directive ever should.

He imagined it vividly, pinning you against the cold concrete wall, his hands tearing at your clothes, cock hardening as he thrust deep into your tight core, your moans echoing louder than any exorcism chant. The thought sent a rush of heat through him, his grace flickering erratically. ‘Not now’ he chided himself, but the vision persisted, your legs wrapped around his waist, ass clenching as he fucked you relentlessly, cum spilling inside you while your angelic light blinded him in ecstasy.

You turned, catching his distant stare, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. “Cas, you're distracted” you murmured, stepping closer, your voice a sultry whisper amid the mission's urgency. “Impure thoughts again?”

He flushed, trench coat suddenly too tight. “I... apologies. The mission-“ Your finger pressed to his lips, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not now, maybe tonight. But first, we have to finish the mission.”

Relief and joy bloomed in his chest, a rare smile breaking through his stoic facade. Tonight. The promise lingered like a spark, fueling his resolve as he nodded, blade ready once more.

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I HOPE UR HAVING A GOOD DAY I LOVE UR ACCOUNT 🥺💋💋

⊹ ࣪ ˖ what you would see

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pairing: castiel x gn!reader

genre: fluff n comfort

notes: this is such a cute idea thank you !!! Another note I’m sorry I’ve been away for a while I’ve been in the middle of moving and celebrating my birthday but I’m back now and should be back to posting more regularly <3

You hadn’t meant for the thought to weigh on you the way it did. It had started as something small an idle wondering, a curiosity sparked by the way Castiel looked at the sky sometimes, like he remembered having far more of himself than what the world could see now.

But over time the thought grew heavier, nestling into your chest.

Tonight, sitting on the edge of the bunker’s library table, you finally let it slip out. “I wish I could see you” you murmured, eyes fixed on your hands. “Not the body. You. Your real self. Your wings. Your grace. Everything.” Castiel paused mid page of the book he was pretending to read. His head lifted slowly, eyes narrowing in concentration the way they always did when he was trying to read emotions rather than words.

“You are upset” he said softly. You huffed a weak laugh. “Not upset. Just… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I only get one tiny piece of you. One very human shaped piece. And the rest is this big beautiful mystery that I’ll never get to see.”

The room filled with a gentle silence. Then you felt his hand cover yours warm, grounding. “You already see more of me than anyone else ever has” he said. “But if you want to understand what my true form is like, I can try to describe it.”

Your heart skipped. “I’d love that.” Castiel shifted, turning fully toward you. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and careful.

“My true form is not shaped the way humans are” he began. “It is… vast. Larger than this room. Larger than the bunker. Light, mostly. Wings that stretch farther than you could walk in a day.”

You closed your eyes, letting his voice paint the picture. “My wings” he continued, “are not like feathers. They are made of grace of what I am. They shine in layers. The edges look sharp, but they are not dangerous to those I care for. If you touched them, they would feel warm. Like sunlight filtered through stained glass.”

You smiled faintly. “That sounds beautiful.”

Castiel’s voice softened, almost reverent. “They are. But they are nothing compared to the way I see you.” Your breath caught. He kept going, his tone growing more tender with each word. “My true body has eyes. Many eyes. They watch in all directions, seeing things humans cannot comprehend. But if you stood before me, all of those eyes would turn only toward you. Every one of them. Because I would want to see you clearly.”

Your throat tightened with emotion.

“And my voice” he added, “is… loud. Too loud for human ears. But to you, if you could hear it safely, it would sound like harmonies. Like every comforting thought you’ve ever had layered together. Not frightening. Not overwhelming. Just… familiar. Like something you’ve known all your life without realising it.”

A tear escaped before you could stop it. He reached up immediately, brushing it away with the pad of his thumb. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not sad” you whispered. “I just wish I could experience that.” Castiel leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“You experience more of me than you think” he murmured. “Whenever you touch my hand, or speak my name, or look at me as though I am worth looking at… you are seeing me. Truly. My grace recognises you. It reaches for you even when I do not command it.”

Your chest fluttered. “Cas…” He cupped your cheek with a tenderness that felt almost too much for one moment. “If it were safe, I would show you everything. Every wing. Every eye. Every piece of light that makes me what I am. But until then, I will describe it to you whenever you wish. You deserve to know what you mean to me.”

The last of your sadness melted, replaced with warmth that spread through every part of you.

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he pulled you gently into his chest. His vessel’s heartbeat wasn’t truly his, but the way he held you was.

“Thanks, Cas” you whispered against him. “I think I see you better than ever.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I am glad. Because I have always seen you.”

And in his arms, you believed it every glowing, impossible word.

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pairing: castiel x gn!reader

genre: soulmate AU, mutual pining, fluff

When God created the angels, he gave them purpose, order, rank- and one quiet curse.

A soulmate.

No angel spoke of it. Most didn’t even understand what it meant. Love was a human thing, messy and loud, built of sweat and longing and heartache. Angels were meant to be obedient. Unshakable. Above such things.

So when Castiel learned about soulmates from whispers in Heaven’s archives, he assumed like every other angel that if God had been foolish enough to bind them to someone, that someone would surely be another celestial. Someone logical. Someone that made sense.

He did not expect you.

He didn’t know it the first time you met.

Or the second.

Or the third.

You had only just been introduced, standing awkwardly behind Sam and Dean in Bobby’s cluttered kitchen, away from casual touches, safe behind a steaming mug of coffee. You weren’t one for physical contact, especially not with strangers. And Castiel, stiff and solemn in that battered trench coat, shook nobody’s hand.

Your eyes lingered on him, though. Wide and curious, enough to make his grace hitch with something unfamiliar.

But no touch meant no revelation. And neither of you reached out.

It happened much later. On a hunt.

A hunt that should have been simple.

The woods were already dark when you lost sight of the Winchesters. Fog curled through the trees like living breath. Something moved behind you a shadow, fast and wrong and before you could turn, the ground slid out from beneath your feet. A ravine, hidden by brush. You felt your body pitch forward, a rush of terror flooding your veins

And then a hand closed around your wrist.

Firm and burning. Grace, ancient and impossible, wrapped around you like a second heartbeat.

Castiel.

He materialised out of nowhere, trench coat whipping with the force of his arrival. His grip tightened, pulling you toward him, bracing you against his chest before your feet found solid ground again. The moment your skin met his, a shock tore through him.

Not pain.

Not revelation.

Something deeper. Something he had no words for. Like every star he had ever seen collapsing inward, folding into a single brilliant point.

You.

It hit him at once ancient knowledge blooming within his grace, blooming in his ribs, blooming in places he didn’t know he had.

His soulmate. You were his soulmate.

He didn’t breathe. Angels didn’t need to. But in that moment, he forgot the difference between breath and being alive. You, however, felt only warmth. A flutter in your stomach. A confusing spark that left you staring up at him, heart hammering, wondering why your knees felt weak and why his hand around yours felt like it belonged there.

“Castiel?” you whispered, breathless. His fingers tightened reflexively, as if letting go would defy the universe. His expression changed, softened, blue eyes widening with something like wonder, like awe, like fear and hope tangled together. He didn’t explain. He didn’t think. He didn’t ask permission.

In a sweep of wings you couldn’t see but felt in your bones, the forest vanished.

You landed in the motel room.

The air was warm. Lamps flickered. The Winchesters were nowhere in sight. Castiel stood before you like a statue carved from stormlight, shoulders tense, eyes bright and burning with meaning you couldn’t decipher.

Your breath shivered in your chest. “Cas… what just- why did you-?” His hand lifted. Trembling. Not with fear, but with something overwhelming.

“When an angel touches their soulmate” he said quietly, voice low and reverent, “they know.”

Your heart lurched. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, as though afraid of frightening you though he was the one shaking. His grace felt like electricity in the air, stirred by proximity, by you.

“I did not expect…” He paused. Swallowed. “I never believed my soulmate would be human.”

Your pulse spiked, too loud, too fragile. “Me?”

“You.” He said it without hesitation, as though the word itself anchored him. “It is… overwhelming.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. Because you’d always felt drawn to him, his quiet presence, the solemn curiosity in his eyes, the way he watched you like you mattered. You’d crushed on him silently, hopelessly. Angels didn’t fall in love. Not with humans.

But his hand was still holding yours. And he was looking at you like you were something holy. You stepped closer. His eyes widened just slightly, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in subtly, imperceptibly to anyone else, but unmistakable to you.

“I’ve always…” Your voice caught. “I’ve always wanted to be close to you.” His breath trembled, even if he technically didn’t need one. “Then come closer” he murmured.

You did.

And when your foreheads touched soft, tentative his grace thrummed through the room like a hushed celestial hymn, warm and tender, wrapping around you as though it had always been waiting.

You felt safe.

Castiel closed his eyes, exhaling a shuddering sigh that brushed your lips.

“I am yours” he whispered. “As I was always meant to be.” And when you whispered his name in return, the sound lit something vast and eternal inside him something God never intended angels to discover, yet gave them anyway.

Not a curse.

A gift.

A soulmate.

His soulmate.

You.

taglist:

ೃ༄* Pressure

masterlist

pairing: castiel x gn!reader

genre: fluff, silly

notes: omg I love this !! writing this made me want my back cracked so bad aaahhgggg

You’d just returned from a hunt, mud on your boots, adrenaline still humming faintly in your veins and the bunker lights felt warmer than usual.

Castiel stood waiting at the end of the hall like he always did, coat slightly rumpled, eyes searching your face the moment you stepped inside.

Relief loosened something in his chest. You were alive. Uninjured and breathing. Before you could say a word, he crossed the distance between you in three long strides and wrapped his arms around you.

Firmly. Very firmly.

Castiel hugged like he was afraid the universe might try to take you back if he didn’t hold on hard enough. His arms circled you fully, broad and unyielding, your cheek pressed against his chest, your nose filled with the familiar scent of old fabric and ozone.

And then-

Crack.

The sound echoed far louder than it had any right to. Your back popped sharply, the kind of deep, sudden release that shot straight through your spine and left you blinking.

“Oh-“ you gasped. Castiel froze. His arms loosened instantly, hands hovering at your back like he was afraid to touch you again. His grace flared, panicked and uncontrolled, eyes wide with something dangerously close to terror.

“I have injured you” he said, horrified. You blinked up at him. “What?”

“There was a sound” he said urgently. “Your skeletal structure made a sound.” You stared at him for half a second. Then you laughed. “It’s fine” you said, rolling your shoulders experimentally. “You just cracked my back.”

Cas looked like you’d just told him gravity was optional. “I what?”

“Cracked my back” you repeated, smiling. “Like- people pay money for that.”

“You are not broken?” he asked, voice tight.

“Nope.”

“You are not paralysed.”

“No.”

“You do not require immediate medical attention.”

“Cas” you said gently, reaching for his sleeve, “I actually feel better.”

He scanned you anyway eyes flicking over you, grace brushing your spine, searching for fractures, dislocations, catastrophic failure. He looked so distressed you almost felt bad for laughing.

Almost.

“I misjudged my strength” he said, still shaken. “I should have been more careful. Human spines are… alarmingly fragile.”

“They really aren’t” you said fondly. “You just gave me the best stretch I’ve had all week.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed. “You are… pleased?”

“Yes.”

“You would allow this again?” he asked cautiously. You grinned. “Maybe with a warning.” He considered this very seriously, then nodded.

You stepped closer again, deliberately this time, fitting yourself back into his space. Castiel hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you once more gentler now, but still warm and sure.

“This is acceptable pressure?” he asked quietly, “Perfect” you murmured, cheek resting against his chest. He relaxed, chin dipping slightly until it rested against your hair.

“I am relieved” he admitted. “The thought of harming you was… intolerable.” Your hand slid into the fabric of his coat, fingers curling there. “I’m okay. Promise.”

He held you for a long moment after that, unmoving, careful but still holding on like he meant it. Just not quite tightly enough to break you this time.

~taglist

masterlist

pairing: Sam Winchester & Castiel x Reader

genre: GENUINE FILTH !!! NSFW, double pen, p n v, porn with little plot

notes: This isn’t a sastiel fic (not that I don’t like the ship I am the biggest multi-shipper ever) they’re just both my favourite characters so I had to write something with both of them, warning this shit is LONG I got very carried away, I’ve also never wrote 3 person smut before so if stuff seems weird IM SORRY !!!

The motel room smelled like stale coffee and gun oil. Sam sat cross legged on the bed with his laptop open, brows furrowed as he scrolled. You leaned against the desk, arms folded, while Castiel stood near the window, staring out at the flickering neon sign like it had personally offended him.

“So” Sam said absently, “according to the witness, the couple was arguing before the attack. Something about… kissing?” You snorted. “That’s what people argue about now?” Castiel turned slowly. “Kissing is frequently a point of contention.”

Sam blinked. “You say that like you’ve got experience.”

“I do not” Castiel replied.

The room went quiet. You tilted your head. “Wait. Cas… have you ever been kissed?” Castiel frowned. “No.” Sam’s laptop snapped shut. “Seriously?”

“It has never occurred organically,” Castiel said, as if discussing weather patterns. You and Sam exchanged a look. “Well” Sam said carefully, a smile tugging at his mouth, “it’s… not complicated. Kind of instinctive.”

Castiel studied him. “Show me.” Sam hesitated. “Uh-“ Before he could overthink it, you stepped closer to Sam, fingers brushing his sleeve. “Just a demonstration.” Sam swallowed, nodded once, and leaned in.

The kiss was quick, soft nothing heavy but warm enough to make something shift in the air. When you pulled back, Sam’s cheeks were faintly flushed. Castiel watched intently. “I see,” he said. “There was… pressure. And intention.”

“Yeah” you said quietly. He looked at you then. “May I?” Your breath hitched. You nodded.

Castiel stepped close suddenly and hesitated like he was bracing for impact. When his lips met yours, it was careful, searching, like he was learning a new language syllable by syllable.

You softened into it instinctively. Cas exhaled against your mouth, surprised and pleased.

“Oh” he murmured. Behind you, Sam shifted. Something about watching it, watching Cas learn, watching you fit so naturally against him sent an unexpected heat curling low in Sam’s stomach.

Weird, he thought distantly. When Castiel pulled back, his expression was faintly awed.

“I understand now” he said. You smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I would like to do that again.”

Sam cleared his throat, very suddenly interested in the wall. But the sound cut through the charged silence, drawing your eyes to him. His jaw was set, those broad shoulders rigid under his flannel, and you could see the subtle shift in his posture the way he leaned forward just a fraction, like he was fighting the pull to join in.

Castiel's gaze flicked to Sam, then back to you, his hand lingering on your arm, fingers warm and uncertain. “Again?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, laced with that newfound curiosity.

You nodded, pulse quickening. “Yeah, Cas. Closer this time.” He stepped in, lips pressing to yours with growing assurance firmer now, his tongue slipping past your teeth in a hesitant exploration. You guided his hand to your waist, feeling the slight shake in his grip as he pulled you flush against him. He tasted of ozone and something pure, his movements deliberate, like he was committing every sensation to memory.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sam stand, the bed creaking under the release of his weight. He didn't hang back this time instead, he moved behind you, his chest brushing your back, heat seeping through your clothes. “It's not just about the kiss” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His hands settled on your hips, thumbs circling in slow, teasing strokes. “It's the whole body. Feel her respond.”

Castiel broke the kiss to glance at Sam, eyes darkening with intent. “Like this?” He mimicked, his own hands sliding up your sides, palms grazing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt.

Sam's chuckle was low, vibrating against your spine. “Close. But let's make it better.” One of his hands slipped under your top, fingers splaying across your bare stomach, tracing upward until he cupped your breast fully, thumb rolling over your nipple until it peaked hard. You gasped into Castiel's mouth as the angel leaned in again, kissing you deeper, his tongue tangling with yours while Sam's touch sent sparks racing down your body.

The dual attention made your knees buckle slightly, and Sam steadied you, his other hand dipping lower to unbutton your jeans. “See how she arches?” he said to Castiel, voice rough with his own building need. “That's what you do- touch her everywhere.” He tugged your shirt up and over your head, exposing your skin to the cool air, then worked your bra free with practiced ease. Castiel's eyes widened at the sight of your bare chest, but he didn't hesitate his mouth followed Sam's lead, latching onto one nipple with a tentative suck, tongue flicking experimentally.

“Harder” Sam instructed, but he was already demonstrating his lips closing around your other nipple, sucking with firm pulls that made your clit throb. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud, just enough sting to draw a moan from you, and Castiel echoed the motion, his suction growing bolder, wet and insistent. You threaded your fingers through both their hair dark strands and tousled waves holding them to you as pleasure coiled tight in your core.

Sam's hand shoved your jeans and panties down in one swift motion, kicking them aside as you stepped out. Naked now, sandwiched between them, you felt exposed and electric. Castiel pulled back from your breast, lips shiny, and looked down at your body with awe. “Can- can we continue?” he said, voice strained, his erection pressing hard against his slacks.

As you nodded breathily, “Yeah” Sam agreed, his fingers sliding between your thighs without preamble, parting your folds to find your slick entrance. He pushed two fingers inside, curling them against your walls, thumb pressing your clit in firm circles. You bucked against his hand, whimpering, and Castiel watched intently, his own hand reaching down to mirror the touch fingers brushing your thigh first, then joining Sam's, probing curiously at your pussy.

“Together” you panted, guiding Cas's hand. “Both of you- finger me.” Sam's fingers thrust deeper, stretching you, while Castiel's slid in alongside, thicker and less coordinated, but the fullness made you clench around them. They moved in tandem Sam setting the rhythm, fast and deep, Castiel following with eager pumps, their knuckles bumping as they fucked you with their hands.

“Feel that?” Sam growled, his free hand gripping your ass, spreading you slightly. “She's soaking us. Add your thumb to her clit, Cas- right here.” Castiel's thumb found the swollen nub, rubbing clumsy but enthusiastic circles that had you grinding down, chasing the pressure. The wet sounds of their fingers plunging in and out filled the room, mingling with your gasps and their heavy breaths.

Your orgasm built fast under the tagteam assault, walls fluttering around their digits. “Don't stop- fuck, yes!” You came hard, juices coating their hands, body shaking as they kept thrusting through it, drawing out every shudder until you sagged against Sam's chest.

They withdrew slowly, and Sam brought his fingers to your lips, letting you suck them clean while Cas stared, transfixed. “Your turn to taste her” Sam said, guiding the angel's hand up. Cas licked his fingers tentatively, then bolder, eyes fluttering shut at the flavour. “Good” he murmured, cock twitching visibly in his pants.

“Clothes off” you demanded, voice husky, pulling at Sam's shirt. He stripped quickly flannel, t-shirt, jeans hitting the floor revealing his tall, muscled frame, cock standing thick and veined, precum beading at the tip. Castiel followed, shedding his trench coat, shirt, and slacks with less grace, his erection springing free long, rigid, untouched by human flaws.

Sam guided you to the bed, laying you on your back with legs spread wide. “Cas, eat her out. I'll show you.” He knelt between your thighs first, spreading your lips with his thumbs before diving in tongue flat and broad, lapping from your entrance to your clit in long, slow strokes. He sucked your clit into his mouth, humming vibrations against it, then speared his tongue inside you, fucking you with it while his fingers pinched your nipples.

You writhed, hands fisting the sheets, as Cas watched from the side, stroking himself slowly. “Now you” Sam said, pulling back with a glistening chin. He shifted up, kneeling by your head, cock brushing your lips. “Suck me while he learns.”

You opened wide, taking Sam's length into your mouth salty skin sliding over your tongue as you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing deep. He groaned, hand in your hair, thrusting shallowly. Below, Castiel lowered his head, mimicking Sam's earlier moves tongue tentative at first, licking your folds with careful swipes. “Like this?” he asked against your pussy, breath hot.

“Yeah- suck her clit” Sam panted, watching over your body. Castiel latched on, pulling the nub between his lips with surprising force, tongue swirling as he pushed two fingers back inside you. The combination Sam's cock hitting the back of your throat, Castiel's mouth devouring your pussy pushed you toward the edge again.

Sam pulled out with a wet pop, shifting down to join Cas. They flanked your thighs, tongues working in unison Sam's experienced flicks on your clit, Castiel's broader laps along your slit, occasionally dipping inside. Their mouths met occasionally over your skin, tongues brushing, but they focused on you sucking, licking, fingers thrusting until you shattered, screaming around the pleasure, squirting lightly onto their faces.

Panting, you pulled them up. “Fuck me- both of you.” Sam lay back, pulling you onto his lap. You sank down on his cock, walls stretching around his girth, moaning as he filled you completely. He gripped your hips, guiding you to ride him slow rolls at first, then harder bounces.

Castiel knelt behind you, hands on your ass, spreading you. “Here?” he asked, voice thick, rubbing his cock against your back entrance.

“Yes, go slow” Sam grunted, you whimpered, nodding, bracing as Cas positioned himself. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you impossibly full, burning and exquisite. “Tight- so warm” Castiel groaned, bottoming out.

They moved together, Sam thrusting up, Cas pulling back, then switching, their cocks dragging against your walls in alternating rhythms. Sam's hands roamed your breasts, pinching nipples Cas's gripped your hips, angling deeper. The fullness overwhelmed you, every slide hitting your g spot, building to a blinding climax.

“Cum for us pretty girl” Sam growled, slamming up harder. Cas matched him, pace erratic but fierce. You exploded, pussy clamping down, milking them both. Sam came first hot jets flooding you followed by Castiel, his release mixing inside as he buried his face in your shoulder, moaning your name.

masterlist

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

genre: just pure fluff <3

Dean hated sitting still. Especially when he was hurt. He sat on the edge of the motel bed, elbows braced on his knees, jaw tight as you rummaged through the first aid kit. It was just a cut a shallow slice along his forehead where he’d clipped a sharp edge during the hunt but it had bled enough to look dramatic.

You hovered in front of him, focused and careful, tongue caught between your teeth concentrated. Dean watched you instead of the peeling wallpaper or the muted TV, his gaze softening despite himself.

“You’re gonna drip blood on the carpet” you murmured, more to yourself than him. “Adds character” he replied with a small smirk.

You sighed, shaking your head, then hesitated just a second before making a decision. Dean barely had time to register the movement before you stepped closer and gently sat down on his lap, knees bracketing his thighs so you could reach his forehead properly.

He froze. Every muscle in his body locked up like he’d just walked into a trap.

Your weight settled easily against him, familiar and warm, your legs fitting like they’d always belonged there. One of your hands rested on his shoulder for balance while the other lifted the cloth toward his cut. The proximity hit him all at once your scent, your warmth, the way your chest rose and fell inches from his.

“Hold still” you said softly.

As if he could move.

Dean swallowed. His hands hovered hopelessly at your hips, not quite touching, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. You leaned in, careful, dabbing gently at his forehead. Your brow furrowed with concern, thumb brushing his skin absentmindedly as you worked.

It was innocent. Completely. Which somehow made it worse. He could feel his heartbeat everywhere in his chest, his throat, the places he very much did not want to be thinking about right now. You were so close he could count your lashes, could feel your breath ghost across his cheek.

“You’re being really good about this” you murmured, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Dean huffed quietly. “Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled, the corner of your mouth tilting up, and that did him in more than the pain ever could. You finished cleaning the cut, fingers gentle as you smoothed a bandage into place. Your hand lingered at his temple just a moment too long, thumb brushing his hairline.

Your eyes met his. Something shifted. The air felt thicker, like the moment right before a storm breaks. You seemed to realise where you were sitting and your breath hitching, posture going still. But you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

Dean’s hands finally settled at your waist, tentative, like he was asking permission without words. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you leaned in just slightly, close enough that your noses brushed.

You both leaned in almost in rhythm, no rush. No desperation. Just a soft meeting of lips, warm and careful, like both of you were afraid of startling the moment away. Dean melted into it, shoulders relaxing as if something deep inside him finally unclenched. Your hand slid into his hair, fingers curling there, grounding him completely.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Guess sitting still has its perks” he murmured.

masterlist

pairing: sam winchester x afab!reader

genre: PURE FILTH, MDNI, priest kink, p n v, roleplay, use of ‘father’

warnings: tiniest mention of religious trauma but it’s just one comment meant as a joke

You had survived demons, ghosts, and things that wore human skin. But you were not prepared for Sam Winchester in a priest’s outfit.

The black shirt fit him too well, tailored close through the chest, stretching just enough across his shoulders to make the fabric look like it was working overtime. The white tab of the collar was stark against his skin, a sharp, unforgiving line that drew your attention straight to his throat. To the place your eyes kept returning to no matter how hard you tried to behave.

It felt sacrilegious.

Which somehow made it worse.

You stood a next to Dean in the small town church, pretending to read a flyer while very deliberately not looking at him. Except you were looking. Constantly. Every time he shifted his weight, every time he leaned down to murmur something to Dean, every time he ran a hand through his hair and the sleeve of his jacket pulled tight around his forearm.

Your thoughts were not appropriate. Not even a little. The irony of it, of wanting him this badly while he looked like he belonged behind a pulpit made heat pool low in your stomach. You pressed your lips together, steadying yourself, silently begging your brain to calm down.

It did not.

Sam glanced over at you, concern flickering across his face. He smiled softly, the kind that always felt like it was meant just for you, and something in your chest tightened.

You had to look away. Dean noticed. Of course he did. He leaned closer, voice low and smug. “You okay there, or are we unlocking some repressed religious trauma?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood “Shut up” you hissed, mortified. Dean smirked. “Just sayin’. Guy looks like he’s about to hear confessions and you look like you need one.” Sam straightened, clearly catching the edge of the conversation. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, cheeks warm. “Nothing at all.”

But Sam watched you for a second longer than necessary, something curious and heated sparking in his eyes. Like he knew exactly what effect he was having and didn’t hate it.

The case wrapped quickly after that. Blessedly. Mercifully. The vengeful spirit haunting the old chapel had been dealt with salt and iron, the air still thick with the acrid scent of burned sage as the three of you stepped out into the crisp evening. Dean clapped Sam on the back, already rambling about the nearest dive bar, but you lagged behind, your gaze snagging on the way Sam's collar caught the fading light. It was ridiculous how that simple piece of fabric twisted something deep inside you equal parts reverence and raw desire, the forbidden pull of defiling something so pure.

Back at the motel, Dean vanished into the night with a wink and a promise to "give you lovebirds some space." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with Sam in the dimly lit room. The bed sagged under your weight as you sat, peeling off your jacket, but your mind was elsewhere replaying the image of him in that church, voice steady as he recited a false prayer, hands steady on the holy water. The collar encircled his neck, a symbol of authority that made your pulse race.

Sam didn't move to remove it. Instead, he shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drape over the chair, the black shirt clinging to his broad frame. He caught your stare in the mirror across the room, a slow smile curving his lips. “You've been staring all day,” he said, voice low and measured, like he was delivering a sermon. He turned to face you, leaning against the dresser, arms crossed. The white tab gleamed under the lamp, drawing your eyes inexorably downward. “Kneel, if you want to confess.”

Your breath caught, heat flooding your cheeks and lower. the command in his tone sent a shiver through you. You slid off the bed, knees meeting the worn carpet, looking up at him through your lashes. The position felt vulnerable, worshipful, your curves accentuated as you arched slightly, waiting.

Sam's eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide. He stepped closer, towering over you, one hand reaching down to tilt your chin up with firm fingers. his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Tell me your sins” he demanded, voice dropping to a husky whisper that belied the priestly facade. “Every filthy thought you had about me in that church. Confess, and maybe I'll absolve you.”

The words spilled out in a rush, your voice trembling with arousal. “I imagined you bending me over the altar... your fingers inside me while you whispered prayers. I wanted to corrupt you, Father, suck your cock right there, make you break your vows.”

A low groan escaped him, his free hand adjusting the growing bulge in his pants. “Such blasphemy” he murmured, but there was no reprimand, only hunger. He guided you up by the arm, gentle but insistent, until you stood before him. His fingers worked at your shirt, peeling it away to reveal the lace of your bra, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts. “For your penance, you'll worship me first.”

You nodded eagerly, hands trembling as you unbuckled his belt, the sound loud in the quiet room. His pants fell, and you sank back to your knees, the collar at eye level as you freed his thick cock hard, veined, tip glistening. It bobbed free, and you leaned in, lips parting to take him in, tongue swirling around the head. Sam hissed, fingers threading through your hair, guiding you deeper. “That's it... show me your devotion.”

You sucked him slowly, hollowing your cheeks, the salty taste of precum coating your tongue. His hips rocked gently, fucking your mouth with controlled thrusts, the white tab bobbing with each movement a profane sight that made your core ache. One hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your jeans, and you moaned around him, the vibration drawing a curse from his lips.

“Enough” he rasped after a few minutes, pulling you off with a wet pop. He hauled you to your feet, spinning you toward the bed and bending you over it, hands shoving your jeans and panties down in one swift motion. Cool air kissed your exposed pussy, slick and ready, but Sam didn't rush. He pressed against your back, the fabric of his shirt rough against your skin, collar grazing your shoulder as he whispered in your ear. “Beg for forgiveness, sinner.”

“Please, Father” you whimpered, pushing back against him. “Fuck me... absolve me with your cock.”

He chuckled darkly, the head of his dick teasing your entrance, sliding through your folds. Then he thrust in deep, filling you completely, your walls clenching around his girth. You cried out, fingers gripping the sheets, as he set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping against your ass. The outfit stayed on, shirt half unbuttoned to expose his chest, but the collar remained, a constant reminder as it pressed into your back with each drive.

His hands roamed one cupping your breast, pinching the nipple until it hardened, the other circling your clit in firm strokes. “You feel like heaven” he growled, pace quickening, the slap of skin echoing. Sweat beaded on your bodies, your soft form yielding to his strength, every thrust hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.

The coil tightened, and you shattered, pussy pulsing around him, juices soaking his cock as you came with a sob. Sam didn't stop, pounding through your orgasm until his own hit burying deep, spilling hot cum inside you with a guttural moan. He finally tugged the collar free then, collapsing beside you, pulling your trembling body into his arms.

The motel room smelled of sex and faded incense from the church, a perfect blend of sin and salvation. Sam pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “Forgiven?”

Could you also add something in where Castiel is worried about if she still wants to be with him and she reassures him that she loves him the same and has their entire relationship and always will. I hope you like this request!!

ᯓ✦∘˙ Before Time Learned Our Names

masterlist

pairing: castiel x archangel!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

notes: love this idea !! Did decide to go the archangel reader route since I’ve already written a few things like that !! :)) it’s a little short but I hope you like it !!!

The problem with ancient gods was that they predated records. Sam had books stacked nearly to his chin. Dean was pacing. Castiel stood perfectly still, staring at a sigil carved into the page like it might blink first.

“This thing doesn’t match anything” Sam said, frustrated. “It’s not Mesopotamian, not Norse, not Greek-“

“And not angelic” Castiel added quietly. Dean stopped pacing. “So we’re being outplayed by something older than our files?”

“Yes.”

“Well” Dean said, clapping his hands once, “that’s comforting.”

The killings were precise. Ritualistic. A small town wiped slowly, one offering at a time. Whatever was doing it didn’t feed like a monster it demanded reverence.

Castiel closed the book. “There is… someone” he said. Dean squinted. “Someone like… someone someone?”

Cas hesitated. “I have not spoken to her since before the Fall.” Sam’s head snapped up. “Her?”

Cas’s jaw tightened. “She is an archangel. Older than I am. She walked the earth when gods were still afraid of angels. She is my… wife”

Dean blinked. “Cas.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“…why have you not led with that?”

“Because” Castiel said softly, “if she answers, everything changes.”

Castiel prayed that night alone. He knelt, fingers pressed into the cool concrete of the bunker floor, grace unfurling carefully like opening a door he had not dared touch in millennia.

Please he thought, the word more intimate than any spoken language. If you still listen to me… I need you.

The air shifted.

Not violently. Not suddenly. Just right.

“You always did ask politely.”

Castiel’s breath caught. You stood before him as if you had always been there wings folded neatly behind you, eyes bright with starlight and something infinitely kind. Time itself seemed to lean toward you.

“Hello, Castiel” you said gently. He rose slowly, reverently and smiled.

You stayed for two weeks.

Two weeks of research Sam could barely keep up with, of Dean watching in stunned silence as you dismantled ancient god lore like it was child’s play. You corrected texts, rewrote symbols, casually mentioned having met the god they were hunting once before humanity had learned to write.

And Castiel stayed close to you. Always close. He followed you through the bunker like gravity itself had adjusted. He stood beside you during research, walked with you on hunts, lingered at your shoulder as you spoke to the Winchesters.

Dean noticed first. “Cas” he muttered one night, watching you laugh softly at something Sam said. “You good?” Cas nodded. “Yes.”

“You look like you’re… orbiting.” Cas frowned. “That is inaccurate.” Dean snorted. “Buddy, you’re one step from holding her hand like you’re afraid she’ll vanish.” Castiel fell silent.

Because… he was.

That night, after Sam and Dean had turned in, Castiel stood with you outside the bunker, stars wheeling overhead like they remembered you.

“You are distant” you said gently. “I am afraid” he admitted. You turned to him fully. “Of what?”

“That you stayed because I asked” he said. “Not because you wished to. I am no longer what I was. I fell. I failed. I-“ You cupped his face before he could finish. “Castiel” you said softly, firmly. “I loved you when you were Heaven’s soldier. I loved you when you rebelled. I loved you when you burned, and when you broke, and when you chose humanity.”

Your thumb brushed beneath his eye. “I have loved you since the beginning of time,” you continued. “And I will love you until the end of it.”

Something in Castiel unraveled, he leaned into your touch like a prayer finally answered. “I never stopped loving you” he whispered. “I simply forgot I was allowed to.”

masterlist

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: fluff, size/height difference, the TINIEST BIT suggestive if you squint

Sam Winchester took up space. Not just physically though that was impossible to ignore but in the way he filled rooms without trying, shoulders broad enough to block some doorways, hands large enough that when he rested one on your back it felt like an anchor. He was tall in a way that made people tilt their heads back when they talked to him.

And next to you? It was almost comical.

You stood on your toes in the bunker kitchen, reaching for a mug on the top shelf when a shadow fell over you. “Need help?” Sam asked, already smiling. “I’ve got it” you insisted, stretching higher.

Sam watched for a moment, clearly amused, before stepping in behind you. His chest pressed gently to your back as he reached up over you, barely stretching at all before plucking the mug down.

“There you go” he said, far too pleased with himself. You turned, narrowing your eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.” Sam grinned, dimples deep. “I know. I wanted to.” You shook your head, but you were smiling too.

Standing that close, you were once again struck by the difference. Sam was all solid muscle and warmth, built from years of hunts and fights and stubborn survival. When you hugged him, your arms didn’t quite reach all the way around. When he hugged you, you disappeared.

Like now. Sam wrapped his arms around you from behind, chin resting lightly on the top of your head. His hands overlapped at your stomach, palms warm, fingers long and strong.

“You’re thinking again” he murmured.

“You always know” you said. He shrugged slightly, which somehow managed to pull you even closer. “Hard not to notice when you get quiet.” You leaned back into him, fitting perfectly into the space his body created. “I was just thinking about how ridiculous this looks.” Sam chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you. “Hey. Nothing ridiculous about this.”

He tightened his hold just a little not trapping you, just reminding you how easily he could. The contrast between his size and his gentleness made your stomach flutter every time.

“You ever worry you’ll crush me?” you teased. Sam immediately stiffened. “What? No- well- I mean-“ You laughed, turning in his arms so you could look up at him. “Sam, I’m kidding.”

His expression softened, one big hand coming up to cup your cheek with surprising delicacy. His thumb brushed your skin like you were something fragile, precious. “I just… like knowing you’re okay,” he said quietly. “That I can keep you safe.” You leaned into his touch. “You do. All the time.”

His eyes darkened just a bit at that, gaze dropping to your lips before he caught himself “Yeah?” he asked softly. “Yeah.”

Sam bent down to kiss you, slow and careful at first, like he was always afraid of overwhelming you. One hand braced against the counter beside you, the other steady at your waist, grounding and warm. When you kissed him back with a little more intention, he huffed out a quiet laugh against your mouth.

“Careful” he murmured. “You keep that up and I’m gonna forget how big I am.” You smirked. “Maybe I like it when you forget.” His breath hitched just a little. Sam rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, smiling like he was trying to regain control. “You’re trouble” he said fondly.

“And you’re huge” you replied. He laughed, full and bright, and pulled you into his chest again, arms wrapping around you completely.

“Yeah” he said. “But I’m yours.”

So reader is a Winchesters sibling, specific Dean's twin, and she's like more chill than Dean, Lucifer for a certain period of time had an interest in her and would always tease her and mockingly talking to her like they are an old married couples, so much sarcasm and teasing and mocking, until she had enough and talked to him the same way, teasingly calling him names like Honey or Darling, which Lucifer honestly kept the act, but Dean and Sam were NOT having it

⛧°. ⋆Hell’s favourite Winchester

masterlist

pairing: lucifer x fem!winchester!reader

genre: silly, crack, sarcastic!lucifer, unbothered Winchester sibling

notes: omg I’m so sorry haha I hope you like this !! I will try and write more for lucifer in the future :))

Lucifer had always liked you. Not in the dramatic, world ending way he did most things no, this was quieter. More annoying. The kind of interest that manifested in lingering glances, too close personal space, and a running commentary on your life choices delivered with a smirk.

“You know” Lucifer drawled one afternoon, lounging against a bunker wall like he owned the place, “for Dean Winchester’s twin, you’re remarkably less… shouty.” You didn’t even look up from cleaning your gun. “For Satan, you’re remarkably clingy.” Dean bristled immediately. “Hey-“ Lucifer waved him off. “Relax, muscles. I’m complimenting her.” You rolled your eyes. “That was a compliment?”

“Oh, sweetheart” Lucifer said, grinning. “You’d know if I was insulting you.” Sam watched the exchange with growing concern. Dean looked like he was two seconds from stabbing the Devil in the face.

This had been going on for months.

Lucifer teasing you. Mocking you. Showing up uninvited just to comment on your coffee choices or your taste in music or how you were clearly the smarter Winchester sibling. “And yet” Lucifer would say, circling you slowly, “you still hang around these two disasters.” You shrugged. “Someone’s gotta keep them alive.” Dean spluttered. “Hey!” Lucifer smiled wider. “See? Charming.”

At first, you ignored him. Then you tolerated him. Then somewhere between the sarcastic remarks and the oddly familiar cadence of his voice you snapped.

One night, after he called you “irritatingly endearing” for the third time, you finally looked him dead in the eye and smiled sweetly. “Careful there, Honey” you said. “You’re starting to sound obsessed.” The room went dead silent. Sam’s eyebrows hit his hairline. Dean looked like he’d just swallowed a grenade. Lucifer blinked.

Once.

Then he laughed. “Honey? Oh, I like that.” Dean immediately stepped between you. “Nope. Absolutely not. That is not happening.” You leaned around Dean’s shoulder. “What? He calls me pet names all the time. Thought I’d return the favor.” Lucifer clasped a hand to his chest theatrically. “Darling, you wound me. I thought we were having fun.” Sam groaned. “Why is this happening?”

From then on, it escalated.

Lucifer leaned into it shamelessly. “Darling” he’d say lazily, “are you really going to wear that on a hunt?” You’d fire back, “Careful, Sweetheart, you’re starting to sound like my ex.”

Dean would lose his mind every single time. “You don’t get to call her that” Dean snapped. Lucifer smirked. “Funny, she hasn’t complained.”

You didn’t. In fact, you seemed almost amused arms crossed, expression calm, like you’d found a strange equilibrium in matching Lucifer’s chaos with your own brand of unbothered sarcasm.

“You know,” you said once, glancing at him sideways, “for the literal Devil, you’re weirdly domestic.” Lucifer tilted his head, eyes flicking over you with something unreadable. “Careful, love. You’re starting to sound like you enjoy my company.” You shrugged. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Dean pulled Sam aside and whispered furiously, “If he calls her ‘love’ one more time, I’m stabbing him.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dean, he’s Lucifer. I don’t think stabbing him will help.” Lucifer, overhearing because of course he did, grinned. “Aw. Protective big brother. Adorable.”

You glanced at Dean. “See? He’s harmless.” Lucifer raised a brow. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

For all the teasing, the mockery, the sharp tongues and sharper smiles there was something almost… comfortable about it. Like an old rhythm neither of you acknowledged out loud. Lucifer liked that you didn’t fear him, you liked that he never underestimated you and while Dean and Sam watched this strange, infuriating dance with thinly veiled horror.

Lucifer just leaned closer one day and murmured, amused and soft, “You know, Darling… if we really were an old married couple, I’d definitely be the charming one.” You smirked. “Keep telling yourself that, Honey.”