#//Nah; he’d prolly be laughing his ass off. Respect that; but still just LAUGHING at how funny it is to him specifically. Like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idontblushsrry · 3 years

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Itadori Yuuji Boyfriend Headcanons

A/N: Reader is from America and a black female. Idk why i decided to write this but I think that Yuuji would be a fun boyfriend lmao. I don’t entirely know what the reader’s cursed technique should be so lmk if you have any ideas. Until then enjoy Yuuji and reader being 2 idiots in love. Spoilers for all the eps of jujutsu kaisen up to about episode 11, nothing past that though as I want to finish the show first before reading the manga, so please be respectful of spoilers and label them (and tag if necessary) in the comments. Also srry if this cuts off abruptly bcus of the point the show is at. This is also like, all over the place but whatever.

(also sorry this was posted later than usual oops)

Word Count: 1943

This dork-

He is so sweet and kind and considerate

But also a dumbass but also like he’s your dumbass

You and Yuuji are both equally stupid like bless yalls hearts

You and Yuuji met during his time at the Tokyo Academy when you transferred from America

The moment this man saw you walk up with Gojo-sensei he was smitten

Like your skin was glowing??? how???

And you had a slight accent but like he loved it too

And when you came up to greet him and shake hands you smelled so good and your skin was so soft

((He would later come to find out that the root of that was the shea cocoa butter lotion you used))

But yea mans was smitten and he is fully in love with you lmao

Will do literally anything you ask

You hungry? He’s prepared a 5 course, michelin star meal

Want new clothes? He’s been training for the day he could hold your bags for you

Ran out of hair products?? He’s already back with a special box of your products that he had imported from America

To this day you don’t know how he was able to get those products so quickly

He is loves when you tell him things about you from your day, to your times in america, to how your cursed energy works

Yall are the couple that does stupid shit together

Like one time you showed Yuuji one of those life hack videos and he was like

“We should totally do that”

And you were like “Bet”

Needless to say Fushiguro was very confused at the sight of bandaids on both of your fingers the next morning

“???What happened?”

“Well you see, I told Yuuji that I should use the glue gun because he didn’t even know where to put the glue stick. And he said nah, I got it and um yea so I fell and the glue gun was plugged in and then he tripped over me and so now we look like this.”

Gojo and Kugisaki thought that this was hilarious while Fushiguro decided that he’d store your guys’ glue gun in his shadows from now on

How yall manage to get through missions you go on together alive is a miracle

Speaking of missions, you eventually ask Yuuji what’s his deal because you feel a powerful aura coming from him but he never uses cursed energy, always cursed weapons

Cue Sukuna’s mouth popping up on the side of his face like “Hey mamas”

(You can’t tell me that Sukuna isn’t the type of guy to ask where his hug at)

“YUUJI WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t met Sukuna yet, huh?”

So he sits you down and explains how he ate Sukuna’s finger and you're sitting there like ‘mhm mhm mhm, sorry you what?’

For like 3 days after he told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss him just because you were processing the fact that Yuuji ate someone’s nasty old ass finger and would have to eat 19 more

And the fact that he’s the vessel of like the worst curse known to man

During those 3 days, Yuuji’s pouting because he’s like ‘I fucked up, now she doesn’t wanna kiss me let alone talk to me because of this monster inside of me :(’

Meanwhile you’re just like ‘why would anyone eat some random mummified finger?’

Eventually you get wind of Yuuji’s bad mood and immediately, you rush to smooth things over with him.

You knock on his door and hear blankets rustling before he goes, “I’m not in the mood to play fight right now Kugisaki’

“Can I come in baby?”

You immediately hear the most comical almost cartoonish amount of noise ranging from a cup falling over, sheets falling off the bed, and what sounds like Yuuji falling flat on his ass before he opens the door

When he does, you’re laughing and it’s like the sky is no longer grey and the world is filled with color

You smile at each other before your moment is interrupted with Sukuna going “Finally, full offense, his whining was getting annoying”

You step inside his room and apologize for ignoring him, explaining that you just needed time to process things, explaining that you should’ve told him that before dipping

He just grabbed you in a bear hug and lifted you of the ground and spinning you around laughing happily, after all he wasn’t even upset with you, he just missed you

And thus begins the honeymoon phase of your guys’ relationship

Fushiguro is actually really happy for you guys and is the most supportive of your relationship but if anyone asked him to admit that out loud he’d actually apparate to the nearest marooned ship

Nobura doesn’t hate you guys but she thinks all couples are disgusting, so while it’s nothing personal, she does gag when you and Yuuji do so much as make goo goo eyes at each other

Gojo is actually like the main cheerleader of your relationship.

He is the teacher that changes the seating chart to put students he ships together

He was always pairing you and Yuuji up on missions and placing you as sparring partners like ur not slick

If Gojo is the cheerleader, Sukuna is an actual antagonist

Like the man goes out of his way to CHOOSE violence

Like on time you kissed Yuuji’s cheek on a date and when you pulled back, your lip was bleeding and Sukuna’s mouth was smirking at you

Another thing he likes to do is tell you all of Yuuji’s simp^tm thoughts

Like all of them

Now Yuuji isn’t ashamed of how much he loves you and is in fact very open with it, but he doesn’t need Sukuna telling you that the only reason he bought x mouthwash was because it made your breath smell like “sunshine” and he had to see if it would work on him

Speaking of dates, good luck

Now I stand by the fact that Yuuji would never half-ass a date and things with him are certainly never boring

But he’s also like a country boy in the city and his tourist tendencies tend to get the best of him

Like you’ll be trying to find a spot to eat and when you look back Yuuji’s gone

((Prolly to buy another I <3 Tokyo shirt so you can both match))

He always catches up with you ad you eventually learn that but like the first few times be havin you ready to put up a lost child signal on the loudspeaker

He’s very sweet and this is where his thoughtfulness shines through

You and Yuuji plan dates in the same way one plays bingo

Like because you never know where you’re going to be r when exactly you’ll both be free (especially with Gojo-sensei and his bare minimum ass information) you two tend to go ‘ok well if we’re here we’ll go here and if we’re here, we’ll go here’ and so on and so forth

But Yuuji always remembers such little one-off details about you that make your dates.

Like you mention wanting to try a sushi train and he’s already scrolled through multiple yelp reviews and watched every youtube restaurant review like 9 times

But every high has a low and Yuuji and your’s low comes suddenly and it brings you crashing to the ground with no warning and nothing to slow your descent

When your class of first years were sent to exorcise the special grade cursed womb

When Yuuji’s hand got blown off and he told you to run you froze, your mind racing faster than your legs could even start

“(Y/N) RUN!” Yuuji’s voice broke you out of your fear-based trance

“I- I...can’t...I can’t leave you!” you cried out all your rational senses screamed at you to go, run, he had Sukuna and you were barely a grade 2 sorcerer. But your intuition told you if you left him you wouldn’t see him alive again.

You were trapped in a paralysis of indecision but the choice was made for you when a sticky tongue wrapped around your midriff and you were gulped into the mouth of one of Fushiguro’s frogs

“Goddamn it Fushiguro! Let me go! I need to... save... him.” You were outside the building before you could even finish arguing.

You glared up at Fushiguro but your eyes softened some when you saw how beat up Kugisaki looked.

He gave you this look that said he did what he had to do and he didn’t care what you had to say about it

You and him waited in the rain for Yuuji or Sukuna to exit the building

You tried to focus yourself and save your negative emotions for your cursed attack

When Sukuna inevitably appeared, one finger stronger, you were fully prepared to fight him

However, he didn’t seem interested in fighting you and more engaged in fighting with Megumi

You tried to urge Fushiguro to wait it out, eventually Sukuna would lose control, but when Sukuna took Yuuji’s heart hostage, you both knew you’d have to fight

You and Fushiguro gave it your all but when Yuuji came back he still died

It took all your strength to not completely fall apart after his death and the support from the second years as well as Kugisaki and Fushiguro helped

You’d tried to visit him at the morgue but Shoko only told you that she didn’t think it’d be a good idea.

You still slept in his sweaters and the things that smelled like him from time to time, trying to make the idea of him last, but after a month, the smell of him had started to fade

Everything about Yuuji’s memory seemed to become leached away with time, from his smell, to the wear present on things he’d given to you

You couldn’t help but feel resentful towards yourself but also to Sukuna, he’d taken Yuuji from you with the same care that one would throw litter on the ground

The pain in your chest didn’t wane either, it only became ignorable to a degree as training for the exchange with the Kyoto students became more intense

Fushiguro is a comfort to you as well, aside from you, him and Yuuji were the closest to each other and so he gets a lot of what you’re going through and doesn’t push when you become more withdrawn

He also lets you pet his demon dog too but when you ask him why he’s letting you pet it he just says ‘because no one would believe you if you told them’ lies

The bastard really just does it because he knows you’re sad and he doesn’t want you to be sad

Speaking of the Kyoto students, Zenin Mai and Toudou Aoi are permanently on your shit list

You’re relieved that Panda, Maki, and Inumaki came to your guys’ aid but like if you had your way Mai wouldn’t even exist

Anyways Maki has Panda physically restrain you while she tries to calm you down

“(Y/N), you can kick her ass at the exchange!”

When you calm down, Panda puts you down and even though Mai’s long gone with Todou to go get his handshake, you make a promise that carries through the wind

‘Zenin Mai, pray that the next time you run across me I’m feeling kind, because if not-’, the last word is lost as the wind picks up but Mai feels a shiver rack through her body that more than ensures your message.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji #jjk itadori #black reader #x black reader #idontblushsrry

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azo-dye · 4 years

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Theatricality, Ch. 8

Read the full fic HERE on AO3 or just the chapter under the ReadMore. Full disclosure... there be bj’s ahead...

...

Dean was in trouble.

Rehearsal went smoothly enough. Dean sat in the back again, smirking to himself as Cas tried to correct what now was looking like a much deeper attitude problem with the students than before. If they were aiming for Shakespeare, however modern, they were pretty far off the mark. Dean wouldn’t call himself an expert by any means, because seriously—apart from Sammy’s brief stint in middle school theater—he had no idea what constituted as quality work. Still, the kids’ awkward phrasing and flippant half-hearted gestures didn’t lend itself well for showing any sort of respect.

He did have to chuckle at Cas’s attempt at giving stage direction though. It was clear that this was a battle of wills between someone who was never educated on the actual terminology of what was supposed to be happening and kids who didn’t give two shits if they were being given direction or not.

“No, further up the stage, Michael… no—okay, stop there. Perfect. Don’t move.” Cas sighed as he adjusted his glasses, his annoyance apparent even from Dean’s spot a few rows back. He wondered if Cas had any actual acting or directing experience. He said he was originally supposed to be a speech teacher, and Dean could see that a bit more. Cas, with his thick-framed glasses and his pretentious—hot as fuck—eyebrow tilt, absolutely bringing down the house with a debate on foreign politics or whatever other brainiac topic that would have interested him at the time. He could see Cas bent over a thick textbook in a dusty library somewhere in the historic part of Chicago, maybe scribbling notes in a notebook as he pored over it. He also had a rather intriguing image of Cas pressed up against a shelf of those textbooks, collar unbuttoned and yawning to the side, exposing his sharp collarbones, breath panting and scruff dark on his skin, but not quite dark enough to hide the hickey that Dean—

Dean shifted in his seat. Probably not the right time.

After rehearsal, Dean had grabbed the bag Cas had stuffed all the hats into and met him at the doors leading back into the shop. Cas chased away the last of the teenagers at the paint counter, and turned to lock up for the night.

“We still don’t have a good place to burn these.” Dean pointed out. He wasn’t crazy about starting a fire in the parking lot of the motel, and he knew he’d have a trooper on his ass in about twenty minutes if he tried to drive out to the country to do it. With so much open space and farmland, almost everyone was looking out for each other’s property.

Cas shrugged as he nudged the stage weight that was propping open the last door. “Might have to do it one by one in my fireplace, I guess.” He glanced over. “You wanna come over for a drink?”

Dean blanched. “Well… maybe that’s not—“

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Cas laughed, totally at ease. Totally ignoring the fact that Dean almost had him by the mouth again in the costume room a few hours ago. “We have the hats, and we need somewhere to get rid of them anyway. Nothing untoward. It’s just a drink, not a marriage proposal.” Cas said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in time with the tilt of his eyebrow. The very same one that Dean had fantasized about earlier.

“Uh.” Dean was super intelligent in times like this. He really, really shouldn’t set himself up like this. He knew what would come of any time spent alone with Cas right now. He didn’t want to break his own heart—whatever was left of it—and he certainly didn’t want Cas to feel obligated or anything.

So yeah, Dean was definitely in trouble.

As it was, just a drink turned into three, which almost inevitably turned into Dean and Cas sitting side by side on Cas’s tiny excuse of a sofa, a bottle of whiskey, a few beer bottles, and three shot glasses between them. Dean was pretty sure they’d had four at one point, but one was on the floor or something. He wasn’t actually too sure. The hats still lay in their bag by the side of the couch, and normally Dean would have made sure to finish the job before indulging like this, but his nerves were currently winning in his battle of priorities.

Cas was slung back across one end of the sofa, legs stretched out with his toes tapping against Dean’s foot. Dean leaned back against the other end and just looked. Looked at Cas with his long, loose limbs, and his messy shock of hair—even messier when Cas ran his hands through it. Dean wondered how it was possible for one person to look so good while so disheveled Cas reached up and palmed the back of his neck, drawing Dean’s eyes to the soft swell of his bicep. He knew for a fact that Cas wasn’t as scrawny as his appearance with his shirt or his profession might suggest. Knew that Cas had some muscle of his own there. Sleek, sinewy muscle, like a runner or a swimmer. Built for speed, instead of bulk. Dean also knew the strength he had in his hands, knew it from the grip Cas had kept on him both in the car, dragging him back down to meet his mouth, and by the way he had pulled Dean in when they were in the costume shop earlier.

“This’s a bad idea?” Dean had to wonder aloud.

Cas frowned and nudged his foot solidly. “Why s’this a bad idea?” His brows were furrowed like he was puzzling Dean out.

Shrugging, Dean let his head loll back for a second. “I know what your mouth tastes like.” Couldn’t get the taste of it out of his head actually. He kept replaying the first moment his lips touched Cas’s, and that brilliant electric shock that had coursed through him. He’d felt the sparks come back earlier this afternoon, and he was fighting the urge to see if that same voltage could be attained now.

If possible, Cas frowned harder, his confusion evident in the crook of his eyebrow. “So? I know what yours tastes like too.” He said this like it didn’t make Dean hot under the collar.

“So...” Dean trailed off, distracted when Cas took a sip from his nearby beer, licking a stray drop from the rim. “... so, it’s weird.”

“Then don’t think about it, Dean.” Cas pitched forward and leaned into Dean’s space, peering up at him from beneath his lashes. “Don’t think about it and it’s not weird.”

Dean tried. He really did. He stared hard at Castiel, eyes running over his lips and eyes, down to the open collar of his throat between the buttons Dean can remember undoing with his teeth not 24 hours ago, “Can’t.” he said, pursing his lips grumpily.

“Can’t think about it?” Cas’s confused look was back. “Or can’t not think about it?” Christ, but they were really going to have a hangover the next morning. He backed off, leaving Dean on his side of the sofa.

Dean sighed. “Guess I’m not good at not thinking about it.” He reached for his own beer, twisting at the label. “You’re good at it though.”

“What makes you say that?” Cas smirked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look at me like that. Like I look at you.”

“How do you look at me?” Cas asked slowly.

He stopped. Even with this much alcohol in his system, he didn’t want to give himself away. He shook his head. “Too embarrassing.” He admitted, with a sheepish grin.

Cas grinned crookedly. “I like the way you look at me,” he said. “I especially liked the way you were looking at me last night.”

This changed everything if Cas knew. Knew how he felt and encouraged it. Dean shifted to press down the butterflies he felt in his stomach and coughed. “I thought we were going to be professional about it.” He looked down the neck of his beer, feeling himself get red.

“Of course,” Cas said. “My apologies.” Even without looking at him, Dean could tell he wasn’t sorry at all. “But how do I look at you? You never said.”

Dean looked up to see Cas with his head tilted thoughtfully. “You look at me like...” he stopped to consider again. The look in Cas’s eye had him swallowing around a sudden dry throat.

“Like you’re something to eat?” Cas leaned in and smiled with all his teeth, earning a bark of a laugh from Dean.

“Maybe that’s it.” He smiled, despite the feeling of butterflies roiling in his belly again. He really hoped he wasn’t about to puke. That would definitely ruin whatever mood they had going here, as well as bruise his ego for the next few days.

Cas tilted his head and took another sip. “You do look pretty tasty from here.”

Dean blushed, grinning the whole time. “Nah, I prolly taste like cheap beer and cheaper whiskey.”

“Want me to find out?” Cas asked, his smile crooked with intention that stopped Dean in his tracks entirely.

Dean didn’t have a good answer to that. As Cas tipped forward to press his lips lightly to Dean’s own, something flipped from feeling slightly woozy and drunk to fucking wide awake. Cas was still as good of a kisser as he remembered, and he felt himself leaning into it entirely too much to be a drunken fling. A second-time fling? He eased back from Cas, a hand pressed to Cas’s shoulder where he was pretty sure he’d been holding on for dear life a moment ago. Cas’s gaze searched his, not disappointed. Just watching.

“I really shouldn’t do this.” Dean started, strangely breathless. He scrunched his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Cas. It’s—“

Cas’s hands untangled from where they had curled in the front of his shirt, and Dean opened his eyes, cold at the loss of his warmth. “No, I’m sorry, Dean. I assumed—I shouldn’t have done that.”

The butterflies froze in his chest.

“Cas…” he started. Cas shook his head and leaned back against the other end of the sofa.

“That was rude of me. You said no, and I kept pushing. My deepest apologies..” He sounded oddly formal in his embarrassment. Dean stared as Cas’s hands started fluttering around the coffee table, gathering beer bottles and shot glasses, pink in the cheeks. He moved to stand. To leave. Dean panicked.

Without thinking, Dean threw himself across the sofa, intercepting Cas’s hand as he moved. With one hand, he turned Cas’s face to his and locked onto his mouth again. With the other, he wrapped around the back of Cas’s neck and pulled him in tight. He got his thumbs on either side of Cas’s jaw and opened his jaw so his tongue could taste Cas’s. He trailed his tongue along Cas’s soft palate before the other man got with the program and swung a leg over his lap. Cas pinned him back against the sofa, and fucking ground down with those hips of his. Dean couldn’t move, his arms were up by his shoulders, being pressed into the fabric upholstery by the other man’s strong hands. His legs were spread wide to accommodate the welcome weight in his lap. He pressed up into the friction, groaning into the next kiss. This was just as good as he remembered last night. Maybe better, now that he had some idea of what to expect. He really wanted to get his fingers into that wild, dark hair, but Cas didn’t look like he was up for giving him any independent mobility any time soon. Dean finally pulled back to gasp out for air. Cas nipped at his neck, before pulling away as well.

Cas squinted at him. “Why did you do that?” He asked, his voice whiskey-rough and lust-stoned. Dean felt himself twitch. If Cas knew how he felt, encouraged it, and was pressing for more… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge one last time.

“I changed my mind. I really wanna do this.” Dean was definitely breathless now, his gaze skittering all over Cas’s face. He could feel his pants getting tight, and by the look in Cas’s eye, he was about two seconds from losing his shirt. He also couldn’t decide if his earlier goal to get his hands in Cas’s hair was as important as his new goal to get those same hands down Cas’s pants.

Cas didn’t say anything for a moment before frowning. “Are you drunk?”

Shaking his head, Dean tried to focus on something other than his raging libido. “No. Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Another pause. “Are you sure?”

Which, alright. Very fair question. Dean nodded and leaned in again, whining when Cas pulled back again. “Please, Cas.”

Cas leaned in until his lips were a millimeter from Dean’s. “I knew it,” he whispered hotly, his lips twisted in a smirk Dean desperately wanted to feel against his own mouth. “I knew you were jealous about Melody. And I knew you wanted this again.” Cas moved his hands from Dean’s wrists to better support his weight while he made himself more comfortable in Dean’s lap.

“Yeah, I really fucking want it.” Dean breathed into him, pressing up at an angle to get at Cas’s mouth.

Cas gave back as good as he got, scratching through Dean’s hair in a way that set him on fire. “That’s okay,” he whispered back. “I want it, too. Been thinking about it all day.”

Dean’s hands came up to his hips, cupping the strong muscle there as he pressed his fingers into it. He scooted down further into the couch, pulling Cas’s weight into him. It was nice, sitting here on the sofa, just making out with Cas. Of course, he had other ideas in mind of what he’d like to do, but getting there was half the fun.

The other man was getting impatient though, it seemed. Cas hitched his hips forward, pressing them together all along their fronts. Dean gasped as he felt exactly how into this Cas was too. The feel of another man’s cock throbbing against his, even through a few layers of cloth was overwhelmingly sexy, and as Dean laid his head back to the feel of Cas’s teeth along his carotid artery, he couldn’t help thinking that it was a damn shame he hadn’t been able to show up to the hospital that morning and show off the big ol’ hickey on his neck that was already there from the previous night to put Melody in her place. Maybe now he would with a matching one on the other side.

“Dean, can I touch you?” Cas murmured into his skin, punctuating it with a lush kiss. Dean nodded, pushing against the other man’s body to make some room to get his shirt open. Cas’s hands replaced his, smoothing down the sides and deftly undoing the row of buttons. His touch was warm, tracing up the planes of his chest and down to where his stomach muscles were jumping. Cas pushed Dean’s flannel shirt off his shoulders, Dean leaning forward slightly to help. He kept one arm wrapped tight around Cas’s waist to steady him. Cas tossed the flannel to the side, backing out of Dean’s grip and away from his mouth. Dean moved to follow, but was pushed back with a firm hand to the middle of his chest.

Shimmying down, Cas dropped to his knees in front of Dean. With a hand on each knee, he parted Dean’s legs, making room for himself there. Dean struggled against the instinct to close his legs, feeling a little too exposed. He knew he was watching Cas with a dopey, drugged expression, his mouth partly open and his breath coming in puffs. Cas looked up at him and licked his lips. “Can I suck you off?”

Dean managed a nod and heaved a lungful of too-hot air before Cas’s hands went to his belt buckle. The jangling of metal sounded loud in their tense bubble, and as Dean sat up a bit to facilitate Cas sliding the belt through the loops of his jeans, he glanced quickly towards the window, where the lamp sat. Anyone could probably see in and watch them getting cozy with each other. He shifted in his seat.

Cas glanced up, and followed his skittering gaze. He got up fluidly, which allowed Dean to appreciate the very nice bulge at the front of his slacks, and walked over to click the lamp off. The room was cast into darkness, lit only by the light-up sign from the grocery store across the street and the changing stop light on the corner. Dean barely managed a nod of thanks, for understanding his weird hangups, before Cas sank down again in front of him, palms trailing up his thighs like brands, scorching the surface and leaving light in their wake.

“Oh shit.” Dean heard himself whine, and he leaned his head back, gaping up at the ceiling as Cas wasted no time pulling his zipper down and reaching inside to pull him out. He’d had plenty of blow jobs before, but the fact that it was Cas—the same person who’d been driving him crazy all day—made it that much sweeter.

Pressing kisses to the head and down the shaft, Cas kept his eyes on Dean, moving with him as his hips rolled. When he clenched the fabric of the sofa, Cas went harder. When he relaxed and took a deep breath, Cas changed tactics. Dean felt like he was being strung along higher and higher, with no chance to get used to the sensations. He was fully aware he was getting worked up much faster than he usually did. Dean’s gasps turned into higher-pitched whimpers as he felt Cas’s warm hand sneak down and grind a knuckle into a patch of skin behind his balls that made him see fucking stars.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, man?” He felt slightly hysterical asking. Cas smirked around his cock—and seriously, who does that?—and sank all the way down, taking him deep into his throat. The fucker winked and swallowed. Dean gripped the other man’s shoulder as his stomach muscles contracted and he felt his eyes cross with the force of his orgasm. He hitched forward and felt his groans take on an urgent note. Dean was going to die here, and he was going to die the happiest son of a bitch on the planet. He jerked each time Cas lapped at the head of his cock, hovering on the edge of overstimulation, muggy galaxies still swimming in his vision.

He was still panting and sprawled bonelessly when Cas finally granted him mercy and popped back up, grinning smugly. Cas sat next to him on the couch, pants tented obscenely, and with a low fire burning in his eyes, even in the dim light. Dean tried to make himself more comfortable to lie on when Cas fit himself next to him, but his muscles still weren’t cooperating.

“So, was it good?” Cas asked as he sucked at a spot under Dean’s ear, causing him to have to rein in a whine. Cas continued laving at the spot, and the sound of his breath in Dean’s ear was causing quite the rally effort in Dean’s pants.

He blinked. “Shit.” He croaked, his voice hollow enough to let Dean know that yes, he had actually been crying out exactly as loud as he dreaded he had been during that whole episode. He frowned when he heard Cas laugh softly.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He accused gently, turning enough to snag Cas’s mouth again, fucking in between his lips in retribution. “Or maybe you’re just a show off.” He nipped at Cas’s bottom lip, feeling a tick of a smile when it made Cas’s breath stutter.

“Definitely a show off,” he answered. “Fuck, Dean. I love kissing you.”

Dean couldn’t disagree, especially when Cas proceeded to show how much he enjoyed kissing him by pulling him sideways so they lay atop one another. Dean lost his t-shirt quickly, and Cas was running his hands over his chest, thumbing across his nipples with pleasurable electricity thrumming between them. Despite his best intentions, Dean likely wasn’t getting it up again soon. He could still feel his stomach muscles jumping from his orgasm as Cas tried to rile him up again. He could still get Cas hot though, and—given the impressive erection Cas was grinding into his hip—that was his current goal.

Cas pulled back, breathing heavily. “What does this tattoo mean?” His fingers skated over the black star-sun over his heart.

“Protection,” Dean panted back. “Not that kind—“ he scoffed at Cas’s smirk, “Protection from demons, that sorta thing.”

“Do I want to know about demons?” Cas asked, gasping into the air of the living room as Dean set out to give him a hickey that matched his.

Snorting, Dean rolled his hips firmly to give Cas something to thrust against. “Honey, I hope you never have to know about demons.”

Cas grinned, stroking over the ink. “Such a charmer.” He yanked Dean back down with an arm around the neck. Dean couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to have a habit of getting this man in the same position two nights in a row. Or maybe Cas had the habit of getting him in this position.

“Hey,” Dean pulled back, licking his lips and chasing the taste of Cas off his mouth. “Can I try something?”

The wide-eyed look on Cas’s face told him that Cas was willing to try about anything Dean asked if it meant getting their mouths back together and their skin touching again. Still panting, Cas nodded.

“I—I’ve never… done it before—“ Dean was nervous, performance anxiety like he hadn’t experienced since he was sixteen. “But… I still wanna try it.” He hauled himself upright, before clumsily settling on his knees at Cas’s feet. He glanced up at Cas meaningfully, half-terrified and half-aroused out of his mind.

Dean didn’t think Cas’s eyes could go any wider, or his irises any blacker, but he was dead wrong. “You want to give me a blow job?” Cas gritted out, his fingers clenching around nothing.

Nodding, Dean swallowed hard. “I haven’t done it or anything,” he said quickly, not wanting to get Cas’s hopes up if he was truly awful at it. Who knew? What if he threw up or did something equally and horrifyingly embarrassing? “You have to—tell me what to do.” He cleared his throat when his voice cracked. He settled his gaze at Cas’s knee, still covered with his work slacks, though the zipper was splayed open. He focused on the strong joint there, where he knew Cas was packing some strength in his legs, had felt them wrapped around his hips. He knew this must not look sexy or anything, the way he was on his knees, nervous about giving a blow job. He’d gotten dozens of them over the years, he didn’t mind bragging. Surely, if some random short dark-haired, light-eyed waitress in the middle of rural Ohio could make him come so hard he blacked out momentarily, he could give this his best shot.

Then again, he was starting to see a pattern in the people he chose to fall for—however temporarily.

A hand under his chin jerked him out of his reverie, and his gaze was pulled to meet Cas’s. Cas seemed to be searching his face, intense as anything, just probing his expression. “You know I’m not expecting anything, right?” Cas asked lowly, his words going against what his eyes were practically screaming. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Dean answered quickly, surprising himself even. He knew he wanted Cas’s dick something awful, wanted to feel the heft of it forcing his jaw wide, wanted to wring noises out of Cas until he couldn’t see straight. He just didn’t know how much he was willing to admit that to the man attached to the dick in question.

He shuffled forward on his knees, running his hands up Cas’s slacks until he got to his fly. “Please, Cas,” he whispered. He reached in between the flaps of his pants and stroked him gently through the navy boxers underneath. Cas’s cock was hot and so, so hard underneath the fabric. The man above him sighed, his breathing ragged. Cas tipped his head back at the feel of Dean’s hand. Cas’s fists were clenching beside his thighs. Feeling daring, Dean reached for his hand. Cas tried to intertwine their fingers, but that wasn’t what Dean was after. He pressed Cas’s hand to the back of his head, Cas’s fingers twisting gently into his hair.

“Okay,” Cas whispered, “I’ll show you how.” He fit his other hand to the curve of Dean’s jaw, and when Dean thought he was going to get pushed down, Cas tilted his head up to look at him again. Dean unscrewed his eyes just in time to get tugged back up to kiss Cas. It must have been an awkward angle, with Cas leaning down, and Dean straining upward, but he couldn’t care less. Frankly, any time spent away from kissing Cas was time wasted, in Dean’s opinion. There was a new hunger to the kiss now, like Cas was doing his very best to worm his way inside Dean’s skin. Cas pulled away. “You have to relax,” he whispered. “I promise not to choke you, but if you’re tense like that, it won’t be good for either of us.” He kissed Dean again. “Relax for me, baby.”

Dean sucked on his tongue for a moment before pulling back and nodding. “I want to do this,” he nuzzled against Cas’s temple once more before setting back on his knees. He took a breath and pulled Cas’s cock out from underwear, where it stood proudly in the dim light. He could hear Cas panting above him. Cas still had his hands in Dean’s hair, stroking instead of pulling. Dean licked his lips and leaned in, pressing a wet kiss to the head, keeping his eyes on Cas’s expression. When he heard Cas’s breath hitch above him, he grinned to himself and leaned in again, this time taking the entire head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around, tasting the tacky precome. Keeping his teeth out of the way, he leaned forward and sank down as far as he could, which wasn’t very far, if he was being critically honest. He suctioned around the shaft, pulling a grunt from Cas. He started a rhythm bobbing up and down, using his hands on what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

“Fuck, Dean, so good,” he could hear Cas babble above him. “Fuck you mean, this is your first time? Ah—!” Cas yipped a bit as Dean’s teeth caught him in a sensitive spot, but it quickly turned into a long groan as Dean soothed it with his tongue. Dean settled in closer, pushing Cas’s knees further apart, in an effort to get closer. Cas’s hands were so tightly clenched in his hair, still not pulling, but enough to make tears spring into Dean’s eyes. Not that he dreamed of being anywhere else.

Dean was surprised to find that this was doing it for him too. Maybe he wasn’t surprised though—everything with Cas seemed to do it for him. Cas was encouraging without being patronizing, just genuinely glad to be there with Dean. He didn’t seem to mind that it was Dean’s first time giving head, and was instead just enjoying the attention. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel sorry for the guy that even a first-timer’s attempt was apparently getting him off, or smug about the fact that he seemed to turn Cas on as much as the reverse was true.

He must have been doing this for some time, because before long, he felt Cas’s hands again, pulling him up and away. “Dean, I—I’m going to come—“ and Dean dove down with renewed fervor. Cas thought he’d be too chickenshit to go for the whole deal? Fuck that. He groaned around the feel of Cas’s cock, his jaw wider than he thought it could go. Finally, finally, he felt Cas’s hands pulling him closer, really going for it now. “Fuck, Dean—!” Cas let loose a pained grunt and came.

In all honesty, Dean was a little caught off guard. The flavor wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever had, but the fact that it was the result of his efforts taking Cas apart was what made it so appealing. He tried to get it all down, but he knew he missed some as it dripped down his chin. He pressed kisses to Cas’s cock as he worked through the aftershocks. When he finally leaned back to wipe his face, they were both panting.

Cas shifted to tuck himself away, his hands trembling. Dean leaned back on his hands, propping his knees in front of him, knocking lightly into Cas. “How’d I do? Notes?” He was only a little breathless. He worked his jaw a few times.

“Very adequate. Probably went too deep at first, but… that’s fixable.” Cas grinned at him.

Dean chuckled. “Fixable, huh?” He lounged back, settling into his elbows. He huffed a sigh at the ceiling. “That’s hard work, you made it look easy.”

Cas laughed too, “I’ve had years more practice, don’t sweat it.” He tilted his head, still smiling, before heaving himself off the couch and pushing back into Dean’s space on the floor. He laid over Dean’s body and crowded in close for a kiss. “Not that you should, anyway. That was thoroughly” he pecked Dean’s cheek, “absolutely” his other cheek “satisfactory.”

They laid on the floor making out for a while longer, both wiped out and stinking like sex. Eventually, Cas pulled away and straightened up, reaching down for Dean’s hand to pull him up too. “I think it's time for bed, don't you?”

Dean grinned and let himself be pulled. His gaze happened to catch on the bag that had been kicked over by the sofa. The hats spilled from the bag, some under the sofa where he’d have to lean all the way down to reach them. Great.

“Never got around to burning those, did we?” He nudged one with his toe.

“Later,” Cas said, tugging him down the hall back towards where Dean knew his bedroom waited. “Plenty of time for that tomorrow.”

Dean had to agree.

#theatricality #ghosts in the theater #deancas fic #deancas #destiel #destiel fic #spn #spn fic #casefic #teacher!cas #alcohol cw #Destiel fanfic

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