author’s note: ok so i’m gonna do a next installment of the whole text thing next, but with bsf!sam. i feel like i should set the scene first and then do y’all’s requests (i.e: bf!dean, bf!sam, and others). i hope you guys have fun reading this one as much as i had fun writing it lol. as always, feedback is always appreciated, and make sure to leave any ideas, or comments if you feel comfortable! love youuu <3
Single Dad!Soldier Boy who takes his daughter to L.A. and constantly has to tell her to stop flirting with Mr. Marathon and Malchemical while the men are in the middle of doing insane bumps
Single Dad!Soldier Boy who takes his daughter to L.A. and constantly has to tell her to stop flirting with Mr. Marathon and Malchemical while the men are in the middle of doing insane bumps
☁︎ Paring: Malchemical x Fem!Reader & Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader (mentioned Malchemical x Soldier Boy - could easily be poly)
☁︎ Summary: You find a new toy at a party, turns out, Ben might've played with him first.
☁︎ Warnings: comedy, swearing, suggestive, explicit language, Supe!Reader, flirty reader, open relationship, mentions of gore, mentions of drugs, objectification(?), reader makes fun of Homelander
☁︎ Word Count: 1k
☁︎ Rating: 16+ for explicit language
☁︎ Requested by: My funny little brain where things are strange but hey, there's pretty boys and cross dimensional Destiel there so it's okay.
☁︎ A/n: Title is from The Other Side by Stephen Sanchez. I have no regrets btw, they were both ridiculously stunning and I watched the show purely for this small section of the episode lol
꧁ Read my rules and send a request! ꧂
Masterlists | Pinned Post | Schedule | Taglist Form | Author Recs
"Ooh, I like Homie" You added, perky as ever.
Homelander glared at you from his little sulking spot, that same old creepy glower on his face.
"What?" You asked with a smirk "It makes you sound a little less-" You waved a hand at him "That"
"What is that?"
"Y'know, live a perverted, annoying little sicko"
A chorus of whispered "Oh shit"'s came from the poker table beside you.
Homelander's jaw clenched so hard you were surprised he didn't break his own fucking teeth. But despite his, let's say temper, he knew that he couldn't come at you no matter how much he wanted to. He needed you, unfortunately, and he couldn't exactly stop you either.
"Aww" You walked over to him, crouching down to be face to face, tone condesceding as fuck "Is baby cwanky?"
His eyes warmed red before his father's voice cut in from across the room.
"Hey fuckstick! I told you, no" Soldier Boy turned to you, hands on your shoulders, pulling you aside "And I told you not to provoke him, he can't deal with that shit"
"I know, that's why it's so fun"
"Sweetheart"
"Fine" You sighed dramatically, head falling to his shoulder, peeking up at him "How could I say no to that face?"
He smirked, rubbing a hand up and down your back for a moment before he saw the looks he was getting, pushing you away with a little cough.
"Alright, can I get back to the important shit now or are you gonna poke a stick at my kid again?"
"You can go back to the cocaine, I'll be good" You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, earning another little smile from him, you were his best girl after all.
You plopped down at the poker table, throwing your feet into some washed up comedian's lap. Seth something? Weird guy.
"Okay boys, what're we playin'?"
"Wh-h-how did you do that?" One of them half whispered to you, out of astonishment and maybe a lot of fear.
"When you learn to suck dick like me, you can rule the world baby"
"Really? That's it?"
"Well aren't you eager"
"Not-not that I just- no one can make fun of Homelander and live, that guy's a freakshow"
"Yeah, he sure is one hell of a mama's boy for a boy without a mama"
That earned you a small chuckle, nervous of what might happen if they were any louder.
"But seriously, how can you do that shit?"
"Well you see, you're missing one key detail"
"What's that?"
"Me" You sat back up, glancing at the caped fuckwit behind you "Y'see, I have one thing no one else has, and it's vital to him, therefore, he can't kill me"
"What do you have? V1?"
"His dad's balls in my purse"
"Watch it, doll" Ben's voice came from across the room, no real bite to it, that'd come later.
"How'd you do that?" The one in the blue shirt asked, peaking your interest in more ways than one.
"Wouldn't you like to know, cutie"
"Excuse me?"
"Oh you're just precious" You grinned, looking him up and down "Wait right there"
You hopped over to Ben and the fast one, disregarding him, momentarily. You pressed your lips against his ear, letting them brush his skin with every word as he smirked in response.
"So whaddya say, can I keep him? Can I? Please?"
"If it'll make my girl happy, why not"
"Thank you baby!" You looped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.
You came back over to the table, taking the hand of the kinda hippie looking guy and smiled.
"Wh-"
"C'mon pretty, let's get outta here"
"Don't you need to stay with them?"
"Eh, they can handle this, but just to be safe, say goodbye to your friends, you probably won't see them again"
"Why?"
"Oh you really are precious. I'll put it this way, you're welcome to stay here with them if you want, but here, you'll probably get curb stomped, or whatever Homie feels like in the moment" You looked over to the big blonde baby, he looked like he was in a curb stomping kind of mood today, meaning it was like most other days, but still.
You turned back to the one with the eyes, God they were such a pretty blue "With me, you'll have the ride of your life and maybe get dicked down by America's poster boy in the process"
Soldier Boy smirked, sending a wink your way. You always knew how to pick 'em.
"Uh- w-with you sounds great"
"Thought so" You let another gaze filter over him, you did well with this one "You were at Herogasm right? I think I remember you, should be in for a good time"
He furrowed his brow, he looked good like that, he should do it more, maybe you can get him to do it again later.
Then it all clicked.
"You were the girl with the-"
"Save something for later sweetie" You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear "But yeah, that was me"
"Wow, I- let's go"
"Oh wait" You stopped, turning back to Ben "Don't kill Speedy if you don't have to, he could be useful when this one's all used up"
'This one' looked at you, the fuck are you talking about? He does not get used up. Unless-
"Believe me, you'll have a better time with blue eyes"
"I fucking knew it!" You laughed, taking his hand once again, out the door before the blood got shed, everywhere, like, everywhere.
"It's Malchemical by the way"
"Hm?"
"My name, it's Malchemical"
"Yeah….that's not gonna work"
"What do you mean?"
"Try moaning that out by round five, I'm gonna go with Mal, that work for you?"
★ Plot: When Castiel falls from Heaven you find him and take him in, teaching him a world he never dreamed he could be a part of, let alone love, but will it stay sunshine and roses when Sam and Dean come back for him?
★ Director: @ashbohog
★ Run Time: 6.2k
★ Rating: Explicit/16+
★ Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, smut - consent heavy, riding, softer sex, creampie - emotional vulnerability, slice of life, fluff, probably more I can't think of?
★ Commentary: Okay now THIS is a fic. Goddamn, longest one-shot I've ever written lol, I hope you like it! (please be nice to me this took five months lol)
꧁ Read my rules and send a request! ꧂
Masterlists | Pinned Post | Schedule | Taglist Form | Author Recs
You used to work with Sam and Dean at least once a month, helping them out of whatever mess they got themselves into. When you retired, you weren't sure if they'd be able to manage, but they seemed to do alright, at least that's what you heard from your bi-weekly phone calls with Sam, just making sure none of them had gone off the deep end. Again.
You were checking the slow-cooker, soup cooking away, the smell filling your house nicely. It wasn't much but it was cozy and comfortable, a luxurious mansion compared to the motel rooms you were used to. You decided to head out and get some groceries while your food slowly boiled up for the next couple of hours.
You were at your local supermarket, scanning the shelves for any ingredients that looked interesting when out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a man just outside glass doors. He looked oddly familiar so you walked back out of the store, abandoning your apples and flour just before the exit.
When you got outside, you got a good look at him. He was missing his signature coat and he looked pretty rough around the edges, but that was the Winchesters' Angel alright.
"Castiel?"
He looked up like the sound of his own name was foreign to him, his brows furrowing just like they always did, until he recognized you, murmuring your name with a rougher voice than usual.
You crouched down, eye to eye with him "What are you doing here? What happened to you?"
He looked down like he was ashamed that you were seeing him like this.
"I fell"
"From where?"
"Heaven"
"Oh, baby" You cooed, reaching out, slow enough not to spook him "Where are the boys?"
"Kansas"
"So what're you doing here?"
"I have no way to get there, I was trying to find enough money to pay for the bus, but it's not as easy as I thought it would be"
"Here" You reached into your pocket but before you could pull your hand out, he stopped you.
"I couldn't take-"
"Sweetie, I'm not gonna give you money"
"You're not?"
"No" You smiled just a little, sympathetic and soft, before extending the energy bar in your palm "You look hungry. You can get hungry now, right?"
"Yes" His eyes stayed glued to your palm "Very"
He took the bar eagerly, the first piece of food he'd had in days that he didn't have to scavenge for.
"Are you hurt?"
"Not substantially. I think"
"Can you stand?"
"Yes"
You grabbed his hand, guiding him up.
"It'd take hours to get to Kansas and you're in pretty rough shape. I have some room at my place if you'd li-"
"Yes please"
You smiled, a huff of a laugh coming out with it. He followed you to your car like a little puppy, hand never leaving yours until you had to drive. You cranked up the heat on the drive home, noticing the little shake around his shoulders.
When you got inside, you saw him in proper lighting, the shabby clothes, the fresh cut on his cheek, covered in grime. You brought him to your kitchen table, checking on the soup and giving him a bowl full.
"Here, it's not much but it's probably better for you than an energy bar. Have as much as you like"
He muttered a quick thank you before inhaling the soup, spoon be damned. While he was occupied, you headed to the bathroom, running a hot bath and grabbing a towel. You threw it on the back of a chair and positioned it in front of the fireplace before coming back to the kitchen.
The former Angel was helping himself to a third bowl when you appeared behind him.
"Hey, it's not goin' anywhere" You spoke softly, placing the bowl back on the counter, cupping his face in your palms "Let me take a look"
"At what?"
"You" You laughed lightly, missing his very direct take on things since you'd last seen him.
You inspected his face, only finding muck and that little cut, a strange wave of relief washing over you. You'd worried for him before, but only ever briefly. When he'd copped a rough hit, but he always got back up again. You weren't so sure that he would now, and that was a whole, awful new level of worry.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"My shoulder, it burns. Like someone is still stabbing me"
"Still?"
"It was shallow"
You rolled your eyes with a little smirk, hoping it might mask a portion of your concern, turning your attention back to tending to him. Your fingers drifted down, catching on the slashed open hoodie sleeve coated in red.
"Well it isn't pretty, why don't you get cleaned up and I'll take a better look at it?"
"How do I-"
"I ran a bath, just hop in and let it all melt away"
He nodded like you'd given him direct orders, trailing behind you as you led him to the bathroom.
"Call out when you're ready to get out, 'kay?"
He nodded again and you could see the droop to his eyes. You went back to the kitchen, tidying up, having some soup for yourself. Eventually, you heard a weak voice call your name and it sent a little crack through your heart. Your eyes found him, barely able to keep himself up when you noticed the muck still on his face, blood and dirt, his hair still shaggy and mussed up. Not in its usual way.
"I- can you- help me? Please?"
Your heart broke for him again and again, the way his tone lowered, not in any way you'd heard before. That sad, wet puppy look on his face.
"Yeah, 'f course"
You stepped inside, slowly kneeling beside the bathtub, lowering yourself down to his level.
"You have a lot of different soaps" His eyes flicked over to the little shelf beside him "I- don't know what to use"
"Do you want me to tell you, or do you want help?"
"Help. Please" He couldn't meet your gaze, he was an Angel, reduced to this "Everything hurts"
You weren't sure how to respond to someone experiencing aching muscles and bones for the first time, so you just reached over and grabbed your honey shampoo.
"I think you'll like this one" You hummed, flipping open the cap and squeezing some out "It's shampoo, you put that on your hair, rinse it off, then do the same with conditioner"
"That seems counterintuitive"
"Kinda, but it makes your hair real soft"
"Your has always seemed that way"
You were caught off guard by the subtle compliment, by the fact that he'd noticed something about you. You threaded your fingers through his hair, working the shampoo in gently, giving his scalp a soft little massage while you were at it.
Neither of you were expecting the little groan he let out at your touch, but you couldn't help smiling when you heard it.
"I'm sorry I- I don't understand why I did that"
"It's normal, Sweetie. Lost of people do it, just means you're enjoying this"
"I am. Thank you"
"You're welcome, but you don't have to keep saying thank you" You place a hand over his forehead, stopping the water from flowing into his eyes as you rinsed out the shampoo "I'm happy to do this for you, God knows you've saved my life, least I can do is give you a warm place to stay and some soap lessons"
"You've done far more than that, and it means a lot to me. So, thank you"
"You're welcome, Castiel"
He let his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch, something felt off but comforting at hearing his name again.
You finished up, taking your time until the water started to lose its heat. You leaned in close, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, tone soft, light.
"Back in a sec"
As he watched you push off your knees and head out the door, he wished you wouldn't. He wished you'd just stay with him until the world felt less harsh.
You grabbed the towel from in front of the fire, nice and toasty, and headed back to the bathroom. Smiling softly, you hated that he felt like this, but you were so happy you were the one he trusted to take care of him.
When you came through the door holding the towel, he understood, sort of, standing immediately. You barely let your eyes flick down before you turned to face the wall swiftly, handing the towel to him behind your back.
"Uh, Castiel?" You let slip a small, awkward laugh "Little human lesson for you, generally people wait until there's no one around to be that, disrobed"
"I'm sorry. Humans are meant to be ashamed of their bodies, I should partake in this behavior now. I've- made you uncomfortable" He said it more as a statement than a question, observing your reaction over anything else.
"All covered up?" You asked, suppressing your grin at his little discovery of human behaviour, it was always cute when that happened.
"Yes"
You turned and he had the towel wrapped around his waist. Your eyes widened just a little, surprised that that was what was under the trench coat, not really getting a proper look before. Some part of you wished you hadn't now. The other part wanted to beat the first part with a blunt instrument.
"Is this, correct? I've seen this on TV an-"
"You watch TV?"
"Sometimes"
"Huh, an Angel watching soaps, who woulda thought"
He looked down at your words when you realised which one you'd said.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't think, I-"
"It's okay. This is new to you. It's still new to me"
You walked over, raising your hand to tilt his chin up, making him look you in the eye.
"It's okay. Whatever you're feeling right now, it's okay. And it'll all be okay"
"How do you know?"
"'Cause I'll make it be okay. I can be very threatening you know" You joked, hoping to lift his spirits the slightest bit.
"I know" He smiled, just the tiniest bit, it made you feel like you'd won a whole battle.
"Good, now sit, looks like I have some sewing to do"
"My clothes are-"
"Shredded. But not what I meant" You motioned to the cut on his arm "It might not be hospital grade, but from what you told me on the drive here, I don't think hospitals would be that safe right now"
"No, they wouldn't"
You grabbed your first aid kit, cleaning up around each wound before patching them up. He winced at the needle, something you'd never seen him do before, understandable sure, but strange nonetheless.
"There" You tapped his chest lightly, far away from any newly forming bruises "Good as new"
"I was never new"
"It's an expression. I'll teach you about those later, now you look like you could use a rest"
"Yes, I think I need to sleep"
"Welcome to being human, we're always chasin' it"
You helped him to your room, trying to distract your mind from wandering to the one place it shouldn't when you had your arm around his waist, fingers splayed against his skin. You rifled through your drawers, handing him some sweatpants. You couldn't find any damn t-shirts, today was meant to be laundry day.
You moved just outside to change into your pyjamas and when you came back in, he was barely standing by the bed, you could tell he was about five minutes away from falling straight into it. You tried not to, but you couldn't stop your eyes from drifting down to the waistband of those old sweatpants, how low it rode on his hips. You saw the little hollows of his hip bones, perfectly, awfully grip-able.
"Well what're you waiting for?"
Cas paused, eyes on the ground.
"I've seen on TV that when two people share a bed it can be, uncomfortable. Socially"
"As long as no one makes a move, I think we'll be fine"
"What kind of move? I haven't slept much before but I believe I roll over on occasion"
You let a little laugh slip "Sweetie, just get in. You look like you're barely alive"
"I feel that way too"
You squeezed his hand softly, pulled the covers back and slipped into the other side of the bed. Castiel let out a heavy sigh as his back stretched out flat against the mattress, a feeling he had never experienced quite like this before.
"Good?"
"Indescribably"
You chuckled under your breath "And to think, I got this on sale"
He turned to face you, his expression tired and soft in ways you hadn't thought possible before tonight.
"Thank you, you didn't have to be this kind, I appreciate it"
"Anytime" You smiled "Besides, things were starting to get boring around here anyways"
He let out a breathy laugh, just slightly before falling silent again, a vulnerable lilt to his voice.
"There's something else I've seen on TV. Sometimes, when someone's hurt, someone that cares for them, holds them"
"Yeah?" You shuffled closer, a dangerous shake in your voice but you had to do it "Good thing I care about you then"
You opened your arms up and he gingerly got closer, careful, trying to do it 'right'. Your arms closed around his back, nudging his face against your neck. He let out a breath, relaxing into you.
You tried to think about anything other than his body pressed against yours, the worn material of the pants doing little to nothing to cover the bulge you felt pressed into your thigh.
Your hands smoothed over his back, soft and warm and just too much.
He let out an airy little sound, high, broken, and you pulled your hands away, moving back to look into his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Cas, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"N-no" He could barely hold eye contact, feeling disgusting to think of you in this way "It- was nice"
"You sure? I can stop if-"
"Please don't"
"Oh. Oh- you-"
He nodded, swallowing hard "I know I shouldn't-"
"I never said that"
"But-"
"Ang- Castiel" You corrected yourself, bringing your hand up to cradle his jaw "You're human now, it's okay to feel human things"
"But I've never- it's so much. I haven't felt anything like this before"
"I know, baby. You just- you have to find your way of dealing with it. It's not easy, but it's another thing about being human"
"Could you- would you help me? Please?"
Your throat closed for a moment, breath gone.
"I- Cas, are you sure?"
"Yes" He nodded, eyes certain "I want to know every part of the human experience, and I trust you"
"O-okay"
"Are you not comfortable? I won't be upset if-"
"Cas, I-" You took a breath "I'm okay. I want this, you. I want you, Castiel"
He moved closer, lips against yours in a second. No one had ever wanted him before, not for him, just what he could do for them.
You used your other hand to guide his palms to your hips, smiling against him at how hesitant his touch was.
"It's okay, baby, you're not gonna hurt me"
His hands slid up, ducking under your shirt, fingers cool against your skin. He pressed closer to you, voice low and wrecked already.
"Off, please"
You shuffled, half sitting up, moving to straddle him when you stopped, looking down with care.
"Ready?"
"Yes" He breathed out, nodding at the same time.
You slid your shorts off, throwing one leg over his lap, fingers under the hem of your shirt before you discarded it too, Castiel's eyes fixated on you.
He'd seen humans for thousands of years, but actually feeling you? That was a whole other world.
You reached down, sliding the sweatpants past his thighs, a soft little sound falling from your lips at the size of him, bobbing up against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.
You took a breath, bringing yourself back.
"I'm gonna touch you now, that okay?"
"Yes" He muttered, chest working "Very"
You wrapped your hand around the base, a quiet moan coming from him. You pumped him slowly a few times, precum pouring from the tip.
You locked eyes with him as you lifted your hips, lining him up to your entrance. You passed the wet head through your folds, gathering your slick before inching in.
His hands shot to your hips, needing something to hold onto, an anchor. Your jaw grew slack the further down you sunk, his cock stretching you out perfectly, hitting deep when you reached the base.
You stopped, adjusting, giving Castiel enough time to get used to the feeling.
You felt a hand on your back, pushing you down instantly, his forehead pressed to yours, heavy breaths fanning across your lips.
"You-you okay, baby?" You asked, eyes squeezed shut, desperate to move.
He swallowed hard, just barely moving his head against yours, signaling you to continue.
You rolled your hips shakily, grinding down against him, his jaw dropping around a silent moan.
You gradually picked up your pace, face still hovering over his, seeing those pretty blue eyes get wetter and wetter.
You started to push off his chest gently, moving to ride him. His hands entwined with yours as you used him for stability, your skin slapping against his with each of your bounces.
You felt his grip tighten, chest heaving.
"Too-too much" He sucked in a breath, finding them to be in short supply.
You slowed down carefully, thumb brushing the little drop falling down his cheek, cradling his jaw in one hand.
"It's okay Cas, we can stop if you want to"
"No, please, just- slower"
"Okay" You hummed, a small smile gracing your lips, making him feel more than he would have imagined something so simple could "We'll go slow"
You dragged your hips along his, walls fluttering around his cock as he grazed your cervix with each of your movements.
You built him up steadily, letting him feel everything, your heat wrapped around him, unlike any other feeling on Earth or in Heaven.
Cas sucked in a breath through his teeth, neck glistening with sweat, looking positively bite able.
He let a little sound slip at the feeling of your mouth on him, the surprise not at all unwelcome.
Your teeth grazed over his neck, muscles drawn tight, just right for you to nibble on, tongue laving over the spot in an instant.
"I-" He stuttered, voice strained "I think I-"
"Y'gonna cum, baby?"
"Yes"
You gave him a few more deep rolls of your hips before grinding all the way down, your cunt squeezing around him like a vice.
He called your name as hot ropes of cum shot inside you, filling you perfectly. His cock twitched more and more with each pulse of your walls, milking him dry.
You leaned down to kiss him through his panting, tongue slipping past his lips, running over his teeth with a wolfish grin.
"That feel good, Castiel?" You smirked, still pressed up against him, feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you.
"I-I love you"
You stilled, relief and worry contradicting each other in your mind. You cleared your throat, sitting up, moving to get up before his hands found your thighs, puppy dog eyes looking up into yours.
"Was that wrong?" He asked, absolutely precious, breaths beginning to slow back to normal.
"No, I just uhm, I don't want to get my hopes up"
"How would you do that?"
"Because, you're-you're kinda vulnerable right now and you might- sometimes when people feel things, intensely, especially for the first time, they get things mixed up in their heads"
"What does that mean?"
"It means that by morning, or even in a few hours, you might not be as happy as you are now and I just- I can't risk too much on that"
"You're afraid I don't truly love you?"
"Yeah, yes, I just- I don't wanna make a fool of myself when you realize it was just the moment talking, not you"
"I have been sure of very little since becoming human, but I'm sure of you" He tilted your head back over to face him, eyes holding onto yours "I love you, but I understand your hesitancy. I will wait for the morning to tell you again, and I will wait for as long as you need to believe me"
You clenched your jaw, pushing down your emotions, pushing his chest back until he laid down again, laying your body over his.
"Thank you, Castiel" You pressed a soft, gentle little kiss to his lips, moving onto your side with him, keeping him inside you as his head rested on your chest, voice almost gone "Thank you"
His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, not used to the feeling or the fuzzy warmth floating around his head. He nestled into your neck, a small smile pressed against your skin, finally finding faith again with you.
You woke up to an unfamiliar but not at all unwelcome warmth, along with tangled limbs and quiet snoring. You looked down to see Castiel's face nuzzled against your chest, rising and falling with your breathing. You pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead, arms curling around him just a little tighter.
You weren't sure how long it took for him to wake up but even if it had taken days, you never would've moved an inch, dreading the thought of him waking up alone. His eyes fluttered open slowly, blue hues finding you, still there. He looked up like he was watching the world, barely moving away, just enough to see you properly.
"G'morning, baby"
"Good morning" His voice was a little croaky and deep from lack of use and entirely perfect.
Your hands smoothed over his back in similar motions to the night before as you continued to lay there together, neither of you daring to speak and break a moment so tender and precious. New to both of you.
"I still love you" His voice was so quiet you barely heard it, scared in a way he'd never been before.
"Hm?"
"Last night, you worried I-"
"I remember"
"Well, I still love you. Possibly more. I don't expect you to say it back, but I'd like you to believe me"
"I do, baby" You tucked his head into the crook of your neck, moreso hiding your face than his.
"I'm sorry" He muttered, feeling a few drops land on his skin "I didn't mean to upset you, I-"
"I love you too, Castiel"
"You do?"
You nodded, failing to fight back your tears, nails digging into the muscles of his back just a little, clinging onto him.
"Why-why are you crying? I thought love was supposed to be good. Is it- because I fell? I-"
"Shut up, Cas" You silenced him with your lips pressed against his, your kiss reaching his soul, finally letting him feel a connection he'd only ever watched others have.
You pressed your forehead to his as you pulled away, not wanting the moment to end just yet.
"It will never be because you fell. You're still my Angel whether you have wings or not, and you're more pure and full of light than anyone I've met, before and now"
He didn't respond, simply taking a much needed breath, suppressing the lump in his throat.
You stayed wrapped in each other's arms, holding onto the soft morning neither of you had ever had before.
"I-" He started, hesitant "I don't know what to do"
"You don't have to do anything right now, Castiel. Just focus on getting better, then we can figure it all out together"
"Thank you, I truly appreciate your kindness and generosity, but I meant now. Are we supposed to get up?"
You giggled lightly "Yeah, if you like. Or we can stay here"
"Here is good"
You pressed another kiss to his forehead, situating yourself again.
"Here it is then"
You did eventually get up, slowly rising. You headed downstairs first, rummaging through the fridge, finding some bacon and eggs. When Castiel walked down the stairs, those same old sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips, the smell drifted over to him and he let out a soft, content sound, relieved to know where his next meal was coming from.
You glanced over at him, spotting the extra little bruise on his neck, fingertips grazing over it lightly.
"'m sorry, baby"
"For what?"
"This" You turned him to face the mirror, curling around him from behind "Guess I got a little carried away. Been thinking about this for too long"
"You've thought of biting me?"
"It's not a proper bite" You grumbled, light "I've thought about you, Angel"
His eyes darted away, still guilty.
"You're my Angel, Cas. I'll tell you again and again. But if you don't like the nickname, I'll stop using it"
"I- I'm not sure"
"That's okay" You pressed a kiss of the reddish purple mark "We can come up with something new if you like, just for you"
"Yes" He straightened a little, eyes meeting yours in the mirror "I'd like that"
"Alright then, what are you thinking of?"
"I- don't know. What do humans call each other?"
"Lots of things. Baby, Sweetheart-"
"That's you"
"Hm?"
"You have the kindest heart I've known. Yours should be Sweetheart"
"Damn it, Cas, you're gonna make me cry again. I don't usually do that"
"I'm sorry-"
"It's okay, honey, I just-"
"I like that one"
"What? Honey?"
"Yes. I miss the bees"
"Hm, what about Honeybee then? A little more special, for you"
"I like it" He smiled, a welcome sight.
"Alright Honeybee, whaddya say we get you some breakfast, hm?"
"I'd like that even more, I haven't tried eggs yet"
"Well then you are in for a treat, c'mon"
You guided him over to the kitchen counter, seating him at a stool as you cooked.
"Thank you" He hummed softly, watching you intently.
"You're welcome, Cas, but you haven't even tried it yet"
"Not just the food, for everything"
"Well then you're very welcome, but you really don't have to keep saying thank you, it's the least I can do, you did bring me back from the dead a few times"
"You never died, you were merely close"
"Yeah, I'd say bleeding out in an alley is pretty close" You laughed lightly, but he didn't join you, looking down and to the side again instead "Hey, what's wrong? I'm sorry, did I say something-"
"No. You're perfect. I just- I'm not of any use to you anymore. If someone were to attack-"
"If someone attacked, then I'd protect you, happily" You reassured him.
"But you shouldn't have to, if I had my Grace-"
"Enough 'if's, okay? If you had your Grace you'd be off sittin' on a cloud, or whatever you do when you mysteriously disappear to Heaven. And if you had your Grace, you never would've been able to taste my cooking" You grinned, serving his meal up.
"It is very tasty, thank you"
You grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple "You're welcome, now eat up, while it's still hot. Besides, it's not like I'm not getting anything out of this, I've wanted you for as long as I can remember knowing you"
"Really?"
"Sure have, you're catch, Honeybee"
He smiled, returning to his toast, a comfortable kind of happy.
You shared your meals in an easy silence, spending the rest of the day doing small, human-y things. Teaching them to Castiel.
You started off easy, doing the dishes after you ate, showing him how to use the TV, which he was surprisingly good at, even the DVD player. You did a load of washing and you may or may not have shared a shower while you waited for it to dry, finally getting Cas into a decent set of clothes.
Though you'd miss him in just the sweatpants. Dearly.
Your days unfolded similarly for a while. Teaching Cas new things, spending all of your time together, showing him all kinds of new foods. You fell into a comfortable, domestic routine, Cas even did the dishes when you cooked, after seeing it as some small gesture to repay another on a sitcom.
Nights were spent in each other's arms, teaching him all manner of other things under tangled sheets.
You got used to your soft, sweet little life. Until the Winchesters turned up at your doorstep.
You texted Dean the day after Cas arrived, letting him know he was safe, but it took them a while to come see you, something about not being able to have Cas around, he could get hurt? It sounded like a load of crap because they were avoiding something, but it wasn't your place to say, you learned that the hard way.
The knock on your door startled you, prompting you to hide Castiel behind you and grab your gun. The second you opened the door, Dean pushed through, big smiles and all, Sam in tow.
Dean stopped, looking Cas up and down, seeing him in your baggy purple hoodie.
"Dude"
"Hello Dean"
"What the hell happened?" He laughed, pulling Cas into a rough hug "You- I think you're whipped"
"We have a whip upsta-"
"Honeybee!" You chimed in, clearly he forgot your 'what we can say around company and what we can't' lesson.
"Honeybee?"
"Yes, it's my pet name" He answered proudly.
"You have a- hold on"
"I think he's starting to get it" Sam mumbled to you.
"Yep, just give him a sec"
"You-"
"Almost there"
"And-"
"Here we go"
"What the hell?!"
"Honestly?" Sam started "He got there quicker than I thought he would"
"Me too, you got him doing Sudoku or something?"
"I tried, he said it looked too much like math"
"Eh, fair"
"Guys!" Dean interrupted, still computing "You and Cas- are living together? Like, properly?"
"Oh my g-" You rolled your eyes, pulling Cas into a kiss, his hands sliding up your back.
You were pretty sure the sound Dean made was only audible to dogs.
"You two- I- what?! You guys kiss?!"
"We also have sexual intercourse"
You couldn't help but laugh at Cas' monotone and Dean's face, possibly scarred for life.
"You fuck?!"
"Multiple times a day"
"Cas, baby, that's enough" You patted his arm, guiding him to the couch as you fought to regain your composure.
"Multiple-" Dean babbled to himself, his brain working over time.
"Let it go, man" Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder "Just- accept it"
"But I-"
"So" Sam started, desperate to change the subject "You two seem- happy"
"Well yeah if I was gettin' some multiple-"
Sam clamped a hand down over his brother's mouth, yanking it back after a second.
"Dude! Did you just lick me?!"
"Got your hand away, didn't it?"
"Boys!" You called, stopping them immediately "God how I missed you two"
They both looked down, like kids in trouble.
"Why don't you catch up with Cas while I finish off dinner?"
"Ooh, dinner?" Dean's eyes lit up, he always inhaled your cooking.
"Yep, pot roast"
"I love you"
You saw Cas narrow his eyes the slightest bit from his spot on the couch, far too adorable.
You walked over, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before heading off to the kitchen.
"So- you two, huh?" Sam said, surprisingly awkward.
"Yes" Castiel smiled, content.
"When- how- I'm happy for you. And so is Dean. Right Dean?"
"Huh?" Dean's attention was elsewhere, trying to see how close you were to serving up.
Sam elbowed him, bringing him back to the room.
"You're happy for Cas, right?"
"Yeah, real happy. D'you know when dinner is?"
"Soon"
Dean huffed, a little pouty, right as you called out to them, everything plated up and on the table.
"Holy-"
"Enjo-" Before you could finish, he was digging in.
You all made polite conversation over dinner, secretly dreading why they were here now, if they needed Cas, what he'd do if they asked him to go.
Sam was the one to say it.
"So, buddy. We sorta came here for a reason"
"Yes?" Cas looked up from his bowl, avoiding Dean on his third.
"We um, we were kinda wondering, when are you coming back?"
"Back where?"
"To the bunker, with us. Y'know, home"
Cas' gaze flicked to you and you stood, feeling your stomach drop.
You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, staring into those pretty blue eyes.
"Do whatever you think is right, Honeybee. Don't worry about me"
Before he could respond, you went back to the kitchen, leaving him to make his decision without the added weight of your presence in the room.
It took longer than you hoped, so you started doing the dishes. Washing away each little speck, like Castiel always does. Your heart melted a little when he started doing it, wanting to repay you in the slightest for everything you'd done for him.
You knew he'd go. He had to. He was the Angel who saved the world, even if he wasn't an Angel anymore. Sam and Dean had been with him through everything, this thing he had with you had just been going on for a few months, you had no right to expect him to give everything else up for you.
Little drops fell into the water in the sink, mingling together before your blurring eyes.
You wiped your hands off quickly, fingers digging into the dish cloth, holding it tight as you turned to face the cabinets, trying to get yourself together.
Castiel heard sharp, laboured breaths as he entered the kitchen, rushing to your side immediately.
"Is something wrong? Did you cut yourself? I-"
"Just- stay tonight. Please" Your head fell to his shoulder, arms curling around him "Just give me one more night"
"Do you- do you want me to leave?" He stopped, still in your embrace "I understand, I-"
"Never, Cas. I- aren't you going with Sam and Dean?"
"No"
"What?"
"Unless you want me to leave, I don't intend on going back with them"
"But I thought- didn't you want-"
"I want you" He pulled back to look you in the eyes, brushing your tears away "I told you, I love you. And I will keep telling you. That won't change, ever"
"S-so you're staying? Really?"
"For as long as you'll let me"
You pulled him in tight, holding him against your chest, no intentions of letting go.
"You uh- you guys have your big dramatic feelings moment yet?" Dean poked his head through the door, like your emotions might actually attack him.
Idiot.
"You're safe, you're not gonna catch emotional intelligence" You sniffled, a little laugh breaking through.
They both came in, a little distant, feeling like they just tried to break up the best relationship they'd seen anyone have.
"You're not evil" You sighed, knowing them pretty well by now "Besides, it didn't work. We're fine"
Sam let out a little sigh of relief, Dean pretended to never have been worried in the first place.
"So" The feelings fearing one started "Guess we'd better head out then"
"When I have a handmade pie ready to put in the oven? What a shame" You faux pouted, knowing you'd get him with that.
"Pie? You made pie? What kind of pie?"
"Oh, just cherry. You probably won't even want any-"
"Move over woman, where's the pie?!"
Sam rolled his eyes, he really had to try and teach his brother some manners. Some day.
You went to the fridge, handing it to Dean to do the honours, sliding it into the oven with such loving care.
Dean watched it with a level of intensity that rivalled Cas' usual stares, an impressive feat indeed.
"You don't need to stare at it like it'll be your last" You laughed, pulling him away from the oven door.
"W- It won't?"
"Oh god I forgot how stupid you are" You cooed sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek "Sweetie, I'm in love with your best friend. If we weren't already family, we sure as hell are now"
"Yeah?"
"Of course, baby" You brought him into a hug, motioning for Sam to join behind his back.
He waved a hand, trying to be polite and let you and Dean have your moment, until you tugged him in anyways, soon relishing in the warm feeling.
"You're my boys, now more than ever. And soon enough you're gonna get sick of the two of us coming down for weekly game nights"
"Games?" Castiel asked, a little intrigued "Like the game we play when you're the babysi-"
"Not that game"
"I think I'm gonna be sick" Dean mumbled.
"Oh, so you don't want any pie?"
"I didn't say that!"
"Sure" You grinned, happy with your misshapen little family and your fallen Angel.
Taglist for all of my Supernatural writing - 50 - Part 1
you’re on top, face smushed into the pillow dean’s head is laying on while he whines and begs like a pathetic little puppy. you groan at how loud and annoying he’s being. god forbid you just want to ride your boyfriend in peace.
he’s forced to shut up and just take it when you shove two manicured fingers past his lips and into his mouth. “i thought y’said you’d be good f’me.” you whisper, trailing lazy kisses over his jaw. he moans. like, literally, pornographically moans out loud. he is so fucking pathetic.
“i—i am,” he gags through your fingers, staring up at you with those wide, green eyes. “ima good boy—”
you roll your eyes, bouncing on him faster, making him choke on your fingers before you pulled them out, his spit soaking your nails. “you’re being loud.” you spat sharply, hips grinding harder against his.
he can’t not be loud when you’re doing that.
“m’ sorry—” he’s apologizing through desperate moans. “m’ sorry baby—mmf, can’t help it—”
“god—will you shut up—”
“please—please say I’m good. ‘ma good boy, right?” now he’s begging. actually begging you to call him a good boy. you almost laugh because he’s just reached a whole new level of pathetic.
“are you though?” you ask. it’s not a question. you’re taunting him. practically humiliating him.
his response is immediate, eyes wide when his hips thrust up into yours. you bite back a moan. his grip on your waist is so tight you think it might leave bruises for days. “yesyesyes—i am—please.”
“but do you deserve it?” you hum, tilting your head to the side while you rock back and forth, his cock filling you up to the brim.
his mouth hangs open, brows furrowed, sweat trickling down his forehead. “d—do i deserve it?” he’s questioning you back. you smirk. god, he does listen to you. he learns quick, obeys without hesitation, asks for permission.
you’re close, riding him faster with your hands on his chest, running your fingertips across his toned abs. he loves it when you do that. but being the greedy little thing he is right now—it’s not even remotely close to what he wants you to do.
he whines. you still haven’t given him what he wants. “please—please call me a good boy.”
your eyes narrow at him, “only if you make me cum.”
and then—you start grinding firmly on him, letting his tip move and scrape your insides. he moans, head falling back against the pillow, hips sputtering desperately up into yours to accommodate with your position.
he’d do it. of course he would. if it meant pleasuring you and getting him what he wanted. it was a double win for him.
“pleasepleaseplease, i’ll be s’good for you, baby—” he’s panting hard, breathing in and out rapidly and pressing endless kisses all over your face, your lips, your cheeks, nose, forehead—everything.
you sigh deeply, biting your lip when his moving cock hits your sweet spot over and over again. that feeling in your belly is familiar and before you even blink—you’re cumming all over him—on his cock, his lower stomach. he moans, finishing not even a few seconds right after you, hot liquid running down from both of your sticky bodies and onto the sheets beneath you. the scene is nasty, the air hot with the smell of sex and sweat.
and then, you finally say it.
“good boy.”
dean grins like a fuckin’ idiot, puppy dog eyes blown and his cock still twitching inside you.
Dean or Sam smut with hybrid puppy girl who acts more like a dog than a human👀👀👀👀
dean who! loves how your tail wags uncontrollably whenever he walks into the room. he’ll watch your whole body melt against him until he ‘pets you’, your tongue lolling out as you pant and press closer when he scratches behind your ears.
dean who! keeps a thick leather collar around your neck with his name engraved on the tag. when he clips the leash on you drop to all fours without being told, crawling after him with your ass up and your dripping pussy on display. he tugs the leash whenever you get too excited, making you whine and drip even more!
dean who! fucks you from behind while you stay on your hands and knees like the good puppy you are. he grips your hips hard, slamming into your soaked cunt while your tail thrashes against his stomach. every thrust makes you bark and yip, your tongue hanging out as you drool onto the sheets.
dean who! loves making you sit and stay with his cock buried deep inside you. if you try to rock back for more friction he smacks your ass and growls for you to behave “be a good puppy or ya’ wont get a treat.” only when he gives the command do you get to bounce on him, your ears flopping and your tits swinging with every desperate movement.
dean who! gets off on how animalistic you become. he’ll knot his fist in your hair and fuck your throat while you gag and drool down your chin, your tail wagging the whole time because you love being used. when he cums he pulls out just enough to paint your face and tongue, then makes you lick every drop off his cock like the messy puppy you are.
dean who’s! aftercare is him rubbing your head while you curl up in his lap, still panting and leaking his cum down your thighs. he praises you in that low voice telling you what a good girl you’ve been and you fall asleep with his hand resting possessively on your collar.
summary: 4 things. war room, sex, castiel, and the winchesters brothers being somewhere at the wrong time.
content warnings: smut, 18+ content, p in v, mention of oral but not done, castiel not knowing how to deal with being csught in the middle of sex should be it's own warning.
there is a vast difference between a human and an angel. everyone knows that, some don't believe in this theory, though the people who actually have met an angel know the truth. especially the people who have met castiel, the stoic emotionless soldier of god with the slightest hint of autism in his veins.
except, he's different from his own kind, too. doesn't get laid up with a hindu goddess while pretending to be a trickster god like gabriel, doesn't stew in his resentment like lucifer, doesn't support the concept of lucifer stewing in his resentment like michael.
hell, castiel lives with a pair of hunters, the winchesters, and has a girlfriend, who has little to nothing to do with angels, monsters, or demons, for god's sake.
not that dean and sam really have any knowledge of castiel cozying up with a civilian in their bunker when they're away, or out. the angel has a lot to thank for the thick walls, the fact his bed isn't creaky, and his hand being big enough to cover said lover's mouth when she's moaning around his cock.
that's another thing the winchesters don't know. castiel has officially lost his virginity. all types of virginities he had. oral, both giving and receiving, hand stuff, pussy stuff, all the stuffs. dean tried to get him with women multiple times along the years, but it was never quite his thing. up until now, of course.
the bunker is empty, except for one room.
the war room, which would make dean have an aneurysm, where castiel has his dick deep in his sweetest girl. creamy slick dripping down his balls, wetting his pants around the crotch, forming string between his abdomen, and her plump ass.
and god, if this isn't the most beatiful song cas has ever heard-- the sound of his girl sobbing, added on with the squelching sound of her pussy ringing through the room. she's bent over a table, knocking down books, and items left and right with every harsh thrust delivered to her cervix.
gripping the edge of the table like it's gonna help her escape the inevitable orgasm and overstimulation. already fuzzy in the head from when castiel had his fingers deep in her, making her squirt all over the floor.
usually, the angel would be on top of his game. always sensing when someone is coming, all that fancy mojo dojo stuff. but right now, when he's just about to blow a load into the tightest wettest, the first really, pussy he's ever had, he's not quite there in the head.
"there you go. are you gonna cum on my dick?" he mumble into her ear, voice deep and slightly shaky around the edges, pulling her back up to his chest, hips never ceasing the constant rhythm he's achieved.
all the gets back is a nice whine, and another gush of cream around the base of his member. he would've, of course, gotten more if the moment wasn't ruined.
ruined by dean and sam chattering as they walk into the room, met with the most filthy view they couldn't even find in casa erotica. not that they have that on fast- reach. why would they?
cas with a pretty human speared on his drenched sloppy dick, which dean would admit, is definitely thicker and longer than he thought it would be. not because he's imagining the angel's dick a lot, it's just a natural course of thought after a while.
sam instantly groans, covering his eyes and tilting his head away, complaining loudly-- "god, cas, really?" sam whines out in pure unadulterated disappointment.
dean, as it is written in the bible, is somewhere between disgusted an enthusiastic. ".. clearly he learned something from the pizza man" said in a disbelieving tone, added on with a breathy laugh of slight proudness at the end.
even worse, castiel doesn't stop. just puts a hand over her mouth to quiet her, his other hand still between her legs, circling the sensitive bud of nerves there. "it is impolite to walk in on people in the middle of copulation." he states, still so monotone, like he's completely right, and he can't even fathom why the brothers would be disgusted, or the ones feeling bad.
then, suddenly castiel and his girlfriend is gone with one zap of fluttering wings, nothing left behind just the smell of sex, cum, and a boatload of embarrasment and disgust in the winchesters, both wishing they closed their eyes before entering.
Masterlist, AO3
Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader
Word count: 5.4k
Summary: Castiel gets hit with a sex curse on a hunt. He goes to you with the hope you have the cure 🤭
Content: smut!! sex curse (f*ck or die), praise kink, making out, body worship, p in v sex, innocent cas, cas loses his virginity, switch!castiel, breast play, cowgirl, missionary, oral sex fem!recieving, cumplay, no use of Y/N
A/N - YALL I AM SICK this has to be the freakiest thing I've ever written ;) This is the fic from the last poll and the finished version of Sex Curse (Sneak Peek), I'm so sorry it took a bit but I hope this makes up for it ☺️ Also PS click HERE to join the tag list!!
On the outside, the case didn’t seem like anything special. The article titled "Two Victims Found Dead in Cult-Like Ritual" had caught your attention. After arriving in the small town, you quickly discovered a witch who was targeting virgins and using their blood for spellwork. It was nasty, but unfortunately common in your line of work. As the designated researcher of the Winchester duo, you figured you'd be of little to no use in this case.
Your days often consisted of long library stays and obscure lectures from forgotten professors. And while you occasionally joined a hunt, you’d be lying if you said it was where your natural talents lay.
Sam, Dean, and Cas had left hours ago. You’d offered to accompany them, but they claimed it wasn’t necessary. Someone needed to “protect home base,” as Dean had put it. Home base being a motel room that hadn’t been remodeled since the 70s. In reality, you knew they just wanted you researching the ever looming apocalypse 24/7—but you didn’t mind. It gave you an uninterrupted evening, which was incredibly rare on the road.
You sat cross-legged on the bed, a book resting in your lap, humming softly to yourself as you scribbled down notes. Having long since changed out of your typical day to day outfit, you wore only a tank top and some boy short underwear. With the boys out, you had the freedom to wear whatever you pleased and you were not wasting the opportunity.
The Book of Enoch sat open before you. You had read the book far too many times, but with the issue at hand, you decided it needed a closer look. It was an ancient Jewish religious text that fascinated you with its descriptions of demon origins, the fall of angels, and the birth of Nephilim. You thought of Castiel as you read—your own personal angel and greatest philosophical resource. You wondered if he had seen what was depicted… if he had participated.
Your thoughts were cut off as your phone rang loudly from the bedside table. Flipping it open, you saw the screen flash DEAN OTHER PHONE and clicked Answer.
“Hey Dean, everything alright?” you asked casually.
“No. Listen—something went wrong. It’s Cas.” He spoke quickly, voice gruff. “The witch hit him with a spell and he’s—” Dean cut himself off.
“He’s what?” Your voice clipped, fear bubbling up inside you.
He sighed over the phone. “Look, I think we’ve seen something like it before. He’ll be fine, but the curse is a bitch.”
“What is it, Dean?” You were already getting off the bed, ready to prepare ingredients for whatever cure you’d need to make.
“It’s a sex curse.” His words made you freeze. “It’ll wear off eventually… after he—you know. We were gonna try getting him a chick at the local bar, but he’s refusing.”
You were silent for a moment as your brain caught up. “So if he doesn’t have sex, then what?” your voice was meek.
“He’ll die. At least we think so. I’m not sure if it’s different for angels.” Dean groaned, and you could picture him running a hand over his face in exasperation. “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t need to.”
Your heart stopped.
“We told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he wants to go to you. He thinks you might be able to find a cure in time."
“Dean—I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t even know where to begin—”
A fluttering of wings behind you made you pause.
You hung up the phone and turned around.
You felt your chest constrict at the sight in front of you. Castiel stood stiffly in the center of your motel room, his eyes darting around until they landed on you. He looked disoriented, and you watched as a painful looking shiver racked his body.
“Castiel” you spoke softly, as if speaking to a wild animal.
His eyes stayed trained on you as his brows furrowed. “Something’s wrong.”
You took a slow step toward him. “I know. Dean told me. You were hit with a curse.”
His hands twitched at his sides. “I thought I was injured, but there’s no wound. It just… burns. I no longer feel in control of my vessel.” He closed his eyes, jaw tightening. “I’m trying to heal myself but it isn’t working.”
“Okay–” you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know what Dean told you, but I don’t know how to fix this,” you admitted, walking over to the spell books you had open on the nearby desk. You grabbed the most promising one, and flipped through it.
“I’ve read about lust spells, compulsion magic—but this? This sounds more advanced than anything I know. Do you happen to know what the witch said when she cursed you, Dean didn’t say on the phone.” you asked, looking up from the book.
Castiel’s eyes darkened slightly as he tried to focus on your words, but there was something hazy behind his gaze — like he couldn’t quite pay attention, his eyes drifting up and down your body. You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered what you were wearing, knowing it certainly wasn’t helping.
“I… don’t know what she said,” he admitted, voice strained. “There was blood. Symbols. She pressed her hand to my chest and whispered something—It might have been latin. And then it started.”
You nodded, flipping frantically through the spellbook, scanning for anything remotely similar. You were met with pages on siren magic, succubi, enchantment sigils—but nothing that described this exact situation.
“Well, we know it’s a sex curse.” you said carefully, eyes flicking up to him.
He blinked, confused. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
You hesitated, your fingers freezing mid-turn on the page. “It’s… a spell that targets desire. It forces your body to crave intimacy. Physical release. And if you don’t… it can kill you. Although, I’m not entirely sure what it will do to you.”
Castiel stood still, processing. “Angels aren’t—we’re not meant to experience that,” he said slowly, his hand pressing against his chest like he could calm the burning beneath his skin. “My grace is reacting abnormally. I’ve never felt this before –” he paused, “I won’t be able to hold it off much longer”.
You stepped closer, carefully, placing the book down on the desk. “That’s what the curse does. It’s made to make you feel powerless until you… give in.”
He groaned softly—just a breath, but it hit you in the chest. His posture slouched for the first time, looking more human than you had ever seen him.
“I can feel it spreading,” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s worse now. The closer you get to me – the more I feel it. I can’t—I can’t stop thinking of you.” his eyes went wide, as if realizing what he just said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Hey, hey.” You stepped closer and gently grabbed his arm. He was burning up, his grace fighting to keep the vessel stable. “Don’t apologize. It’s the curse, Cas. It’s feeding off the closest connection you have—and that happens to be me right now.”
His breath caught, and he looked at you like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.
You pulled him gently toward the bed. “Sit down. Just breathe for a second. I’m going to keep looking, okay?”
He sat, clearly struggling not to reach for you again. His fingers gripped the edge of the blanket like he needed the grounding.
As he adjusted himself on the bed, your eyes unintentionally flicked downward—and then you froze.
There was a noticeable bulge in his slacks, and the way he quickly tugged his trench coat over his lap didn’t escape your attention. His face flushed, a rare sight, and he looked anywhere but at you. The tension in his jaw hardened as though he could will the arousal away by sheer force of will.
You looked away quickly, not wanting to embarrass him further—but it was too late. He’d seen the glance.
“I—I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “I don’t understand. It’s never happened before and I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” you said quickly, voice soft. “I know you can’t help it. It’s not your fault, Cas.”
He nodded to himself, like your words had made the entire situation okay. You watched the subtle tremble in his hands, the tension rippling through his vessel like something primal was trying to claw its way out.
“You’re wrong you know”, he spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “About the curse – it isn’t abstract desire.”
Your eyes met his, wide with surprise. He wasn’t looking at you like the angel you knew. He was looking at you how a man looked at a woman. Your heart clenched at the intensity.
“Even when it first hit me,” he continued, voice strained like every word physically pained him, “I could only think of you”.
You swallowed hard, your heart thudding loud in your ears.
“Castiel… you don’t know what you’re saying” you whispered, unsure whether to comfort or pull away.
“I tried to resist it,” he said, eyes pleading. “But my body—this vessel—reacted. Your voice. Your hands. Your warmth. It’s all I could think about, all I can think about.”
He looked down at the ground, curling in on himself. “You’ve always been the object of my desires” he admitted, almost ashamed. “It’s not right for me to feel this way.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
The room felt too quiet as his words settled over you. You’ve always been the object of my desires. You hadn't expected that. Not from the angel who once looked at humanity like a mystery to be solved, not felt.
Your fingers itched to reach for him, to offer comfort and relief from the spell coursing through his veins. But fear rooted you in place. Fear that this wasn’t real. That it wasn’t truly him speaking, but the curse bending his thoughts.
“Cas…” you breathed, voice thick with emotion. “I care about you.”
He looked at you like those words alone kept him breathing.
“That’s why I need to be honest,” you added gently, stepping closer. “This spell—it might be making your emotions stronger, or confusing them. And I need to know that what you’re feeling… what you’re saying—it’s really you.”
His gaze faltered, pain flashing in his eyes, but you didn’t let the silence stretch too long.
“You have always been important to me, even before any of this. And once we break this spell—if you still feel the same—I’ll be right here. I promise.”
He trembled, hands fisting the blanket, but he nodded ever so slightly.
You turned to the desk and sat down, grabbing an old leather book. Its pages smelled of dust and rose petals, and you prayed it held something useful.
“I’m going to fix this,” you whispered, fingers brushing the parchment. “Just… keep holding on. Stay with me, okay?”
Behind you, his voice came like a vow, quiet and unwavering. “I am with you.”
You flipped through the pages feverishly, trying to focus despite the way your heart thundered with every broken breath Castiel took behind you.
Each passing second, his quiet groans grew louder and more desperate. At first, he’d been sitting up, fists clenched tight around the motel blanket—but now, out of the corner of your eye, you could see he had maneuvered onto his side.
You couldn’t look at him directly, not yet.
The low, ragged sound of his breathing. The guttural edge to his voice. The way he whispered your name once—so soft, you almost thought you imagined it. Each noise hit you in a way that made your cheeks flush and your thighs tense.
You shut your eyes for a second, battling the wave of heat curling through you. This wasn’t the time. He was suffering. He needed your help, not your hormones. But god, his voice—it was doing things to you.
A small part of you, dark and aching, wanted to drop the book and crawl over to him. To help him. To give him the relief he needed—maybe the relief you needed, too.
Instead, you forced your attention on the book in front of you—rereading lines over and over, trying to make sense of sigils and latin descriptions. “Come on,” you whispered, scanning over the faded script.
Behind you, the mattress creaked softly, followed by a particularly loud and strained groan that cut off in a shallow gasp.
Worried he was hurt, you turned to look at Cas.
Your mind went blank as you took in the scene before you. Castiel was curled around a pillow, his eyes screwed shut as he pressed it to his groin. His hips moved slowly and mindlessly, humping the pillow as breathless moans fell from his lips. You couldn’t look away as the ache between your legs became harder to ignore. It was so wrong—the angel didn’t know what he was doing, and there you were, watching him.
You shook your head and looked back down at the book, more motivated than ever to find a cure. You flipped through the pages, hoping you’d missed something. Skimming quickly, you felt your heart stop as a Latin phrase caught your attention: Intimitas maledictio sororis agnetis—the intimacy curse of Sister Agnes. The name rang alarm bells in your mind as you remembered: Agnes had been a nun-turned-witch who had dedicated her life to undoing curses.
You read the paragraph, your heart rate skyrocketing as you realized it was the curse Cas had been hit with. If anyone had found a cure to the curse, it would have been her. Reading to the bottom, you found the last sentence: There is no cure other than physical intimacy. You felt your lungs constrict, unable to say anything as you reread the lines over and over again. There is no cure. Your worst fears were confirmed, and your chest ached for the angel.
Shutting the book softly, you stood up from the chair and glanced over at Cas. If possible, he was even more disheveled from when you had last looked. His lip was now tucked between his teeth in an effort to be quiet as he moved against the pillow. So lost in finding his release, he didn’t even notice you had gotten up.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you moved toward him, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped with your weight, and his eyes fluttered open, finding you through a haze of pain and need. His lip slipped from between his teeth, cheeks burning with shame as his hips stuttered to a stop. It was the most sinful look you had ever seen, and it had come from an angel.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, wincing as he turned his face away, like he couldn't bear for you to see him like this. “It hurts—”
You leaned closer, your voice soft and warm. “Shh, Cas. Don’t apologize,” you whispered, resisting the urge to reach out to him, knowing it would only make it worse. He seemed to sag with relief at your words, his body instinctively moving again, still trembling under the weight of the curse.
“There is no cure then,” his voice broken and tired. It was a statement, not a question.
You swallowed hard, wishing you could tell him something different .“No, I’m so sorry. I checked everything, only physical intimacy can break the curse. It’s a miracle you’re doing as well as you are.” You lowered your eyes to your lap, giving him privacy even as every instinct screamed at you to help. “I can keep looking if you want, but— I don’t think you have much time before it gets worse.”
He didn’t say anything, but you heard the soft ruffling of sheets as he struggled to sit up, and when you finally met his eyes again, your heart ached.
He leaned back against the headboard, trembling with restraint. Your gaze dropped before you could stop yourself, and your cheeks burned at the sight of the obvious need straining against his pants. He tensed, grabbing the pillow to hide himself, his whole body taut with the effort.
Your chest tightened painfully at the sight. You didn’t look away from him this time. You stayed with him.
“What do I do?” he asked, voice breaking into a desperate whine.
“What do you want to do, Castiel?” you asked softly.
His fingers tightened around the pillow, knuckles white, as he fought with himself. You could see it — the battle between needing relief and fighting the curse.
“I want you,” he finally whispered, voice so low it was almost a prayer. His eyes found yours, desperate and searching. “Please help me.”
Your heart broke a little more, and without hesitation, you leaned closer “Cas,” you murmured, your voice full of certainty. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”
You brushed your fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight tremble beneath your touch. His eyes flickered with something raw and aching — a desperation so fierce it made your chest tighten. Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.
Knowing it was his first time, you started gentle, your lips moving softly, giving him time to adjust — but Cas had no more patience left.
The moment he felt your mouth on his, a broken, needy moan tore from his chest. His kiss was messy and devouring. His mouth moved against yours, hot and desperate, the lack of control sending a shudder through you as he fought to get you closer.
Realizing the pillow on his lap was in the way, you grabbed it and tossed it to the other side of the bed, your lips still fused to his as you climbed onto his lap.
You gasped as you straddled him, the unmistakable hardness in his pants sending shivers through you as you pressed down against him. The angel groaned at the contact, his hands flying to your hips, gripping you tightly enough to bruise as he dominated your mouth.
You cradled his head, only pulling back when you needed air. A soft, needy whimper left his mouth at the loss of your lips, the sound so wrecked it made your heart stutter. His displeasure didn’t last long though — you immediately attacked his neck, kissing and licking until you found his sweet spot.
Sucking down hard, you felt his hips roll up into you, desperate for friction.
"More," he gasped out, voice wrecked. "Please, more, please—"
You lifted from his neck, hushing him gently. “Can you remove your clothes for me, angel?” you asked sweetly, running a soothing hand through his hair.
He looked up at you, utterly undone, one hand shakily lifting from your hips. With a soft snap of his fingers, his clothes disappeared, leaving him in nothing but white boxers.
You couldn't help but bite your lip at the ethereal sight beneath you.
"Beautiful," you murmured, running a hand over his chest appreciatively, letting your fingers wander over his toned abdomen and the trail of hair leading downward.
Cas groaned at your praise, his head thrown back against the headboard as he arched into your touch, his hands once again gripping your hips.
Not wanting to keep him waiting, you shifted lower, trailing kisses down his body. You licked and nibbled at his heated skin, his hands moving to guide your head as you traveled further down.
Finally reaching his waistband, you paused, looking up at him. He met your gaze, his brows furrowed and his eyes dark with arousal.
“I’m going to take these off now, is that alright?” you asked softly, running a hand slowly over his thigh.
He nodded eagerly, words tumbling out between panting breaths. "Yes, yes, oh father, yes—"
At his desperate confirmation, you moved to remove his boxers — but before you could, another snap of his fingers had them vanishing.
You gasped as you took him in fully, unable to tear your eyes away.
His cock was pulsing with need, a bead of precum dripping from the tip. You licked your lips as you took him in, fully aware you had most certainly soaked through your underwear.
“I need to see you,” Castiel whined, as if you'd ever deny him, his hand still cradling your head.
You only smiled up at him, gently slipping out of his grasp to reach for your tank top. Without a second thought, you pulled it over your head.
You watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on your chest, his hands trembling as he raised them, silently asking for permission.
You nodded, taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. He squeezed them experimentally, and you moaned softly at the contact — the sound drawing his eyes back up to your face.
That moan must’ve triggered something in him, because suddenly his hands gripped your waist and he pulled you back down onto his cock, only the thin fabric of your underwear separating you.
He sat up, burying his face in your chest as his hips ground up into you.
You gasped at the sudden friction as he began moving you — forward, backward — guiding your body over him. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, a moan ripping from your throat as his lips latched onto your chest. He kissed you reverently, worshipping you with every breathy groan, before finding your nipple and giving it a soft suck that had you reeling.
He continued grinding you against him, dragging your soaked center along the length of his cock, his hands holding you in place as he moved beneath you. His movements instinctual as he blindly followed his pleasure.
Your own hands found his shoulders for support, fingers digging in as the pressure grew just right — the thick length of him beneath you sending you spiraling.
You moaned his name, grabbing at him as he continued relentlessly.
“More,” he whimpered into your skin. “It hurts, I need more—”
“Take my underwear off, sweetheart,” you breathed, voice wrecked with need. The ache must have been torture for him by now.
You didn’t have to ask twice. With another snap of his fingers, your underwear vanished, leaving you bare and pressed directly against him.
The sudden wet heat made him gasp — the surprised moan that left his mouth was nothing short of sinful.
Reaching down between you, you curled your fingers around him, causing his jaw to go slack as you guided his tip to your entrance. Lifting your hips slightly, you sank down on him slowly.
Your back arched as his cock split you open. Despite how ready you thought you were, you still felt a slight burn as he stretched you out, filling you completely.
A sputtered gasp broke through your haze, drawing your attention down to him. Castiel’s hooded gaze locked onto yours, all heat and need, his hands shaking with restraint as you inched lower until you were fully seated on him.
You brought a hand to his hair, brushing the fringe from his forehead as his chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmured breathlessly, adjusting to his size.
He whined, pressing his head into your hand.
“I don’t know what to — you feel incredible, I can’t —" he stammered, his hips stuttering as he fought to stay still.
“I know, I know. I got you," you soothed, moving your hands to his shoulders. Slowly, you lifted yourself until only the tip of him remained inside you, before dropping back down, taking him fully once more.
A deep, almost primal growl ripped from his chest, the sound sending a shudder through you and making you flutter around him.
“Keep going,” he begged, voice wrecked, “please — keep going.”
You set a slow, grinding pace at first, rolling your hips in small, deliberate circles that had Castiel's hands flying to your waist, clutching you like a lifeline. His head tipped back against the pillow, throat bared, jaw tight with the effort to hold himself together.
Every little movement of yours pulled a ragged moan from him, his body trembling beneath you.
"You're perfect," he rasped, voice rough like gravel. "So beautiful."
Your heart thudded at his words, heat pooling low in your belly as you quickened your pace. The delicious friction of him filling you, dragging against every nerve ending inside you, made you whimper against his neck.
He bucked up instinctively, chasing the feeling, and you cried out softly at the sudden, deeper thrust.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, but you shook your head quickly, burying your face against his jaw.
"Don't stop," you breathed, your voice a broken plea. "I need you, Cas."
That was all it took to shatter whatever fragile control he had left.
His hands shifted from your hips to under your ass, and in one fluid motion, he sat up, holding you against him, buried so deep inside you it felt like he could never be close enough.
His mouth found yours again — desperate, consuming — as he thrust up into you, rhythm messy and urgent.
You moaned into his kiss, clutching his shoulders, feeling the slick slide of your bodies, the raw need spiraling higher and higher between you both.
Every time he moved, you felt your walls flutter helplessly around him, felt him pulse inside you, and it drove you closer to the edge.
"Please," he begged again, voice trembling against your lips. "Something is— I can't — I'm—"
"I know," you whispered, kissing him fiercely. "It’s okay, let go for me, Castiel."
At your words, Cas groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your skin as he thrust up harder, chasing the release he was barely holding back from.
Your bodies moved together in a frantic, perfect rhythm, every stroke sending a fresh wave of pleasure flooding through you.
You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he hit something inside you that made your vision blur.
"Cas," you gasped, breaking the kiss, forehead pressing to his as your breathing hitched. "I'm so close—"
"Yes—please," he rasped, his voice desperate, wrecked. "I feel it."
You nodded frantically, hips grinding down against him, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it snapped.
Pleasure crashed over you in a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cried out his name, walls clenching around him.
The feel of you unraveling in his arms broke him completely.
With a hoarse shout, Castiel buried himself deep inside you and came undone, hips jerking helplessly as he spilled into you, holding you impossibly close.
You clung to him as you came down from your high, expecting to feel him begin to soften inside you — the curse finally sated.
But instead, he grew even more desperate. His body trembled as he gripped you tightly, his cock still throbbing deep inside.
“It’s not over,” he gritted out, pain etched across his face as his body radiated heat.
Your hand, still unsteady, reached for his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.
“Take what you need, sweetheart. It’s okay,” you whispered, watching his eyes go wide at your words. “I want you to take me.”
A guttural groan tore from his throat as he grabbed you, flipping you beneath him in one smooth motion.
Then he moved — his hips snapping into yours at a pace that was nothing short of inhuman.
You moaned loudly at the stimulation against your already sensitive core, the sounds high and mindless as he fucked you, his cock impossibly deep with the new angle. One particular thrust made you cry out — a sharp, broken scream — as he slammed into your g-spot.
The sound caught his attention. He adjusted his angle slightly, now thrusting upward with precision, his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you every time. You clenched around him, helpless under the intensity, and he growled low in your ear, burying his face in your neck to kiss along your skin the same way you had done to him earlier.
The familiar coil tightened quickly in your stomach, and before you could even form the words to warn him, it snapped. Your vision went white as your second climax tore through you, your pussy fluttering wildly around him, milking him with each wave of release.
It was too much — he groaned against your skin, hips faltering before he spilled into you again, your name like a prayer on his lips as he fell weightless onto you.
You brought shaking hands to his back as you held him, gently stroking him while you both came down from your highs.
“It’s done,” he murmured into your neck, breaking the silence.
You leaned forward and kissed the top of his head, saying nothing as you continued to hold him, your hands gliding over the firm muscles of his back as he softened inside you.
A warmth began to slip down your thighs, and you cringed slightly as his cum seeped out of you. Cas felt it too. He sat up slowly, pulling out of you with a soft hiss before inspecting the mess between your legs.
You watched him curiously as his head tilted, his eyes fixed on where his release pooled from your core. Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and slid a finger through it, making you whine at the overstimulation. Then, to your surprise, he brought that finger to his mouth, sucking it clean. Your breath caught in your throat.
Before you could form words, he lowered his head between your legs and licked a slow stripe up your slit. You moaned at the overwhelming sensitivity, your hands flying to his hair as his tongue moved deliberately, gently. He groaned low in his chest, burying his face in you as he lapped at your pussy, cleaning you with devout focus.
When he’d determined you were clean, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thighs before looking up at you with those soft, doe eyes.
You were speechless as he moved back up, lying beside you and resting his head on your chest.
With a snap of his fingers, you were both clean and dry — which made your mind spiral with questions, the main one being: Why hadn’t he done that in the first place? Not that you were complaining.
“Where did you learn that?” you blurted, still a little breathless as you looked down at the angel.
“A video on Dean’s computer,” he said softly into your chest, making you erupt with laughter as you pressed a kiss into his hair.
His head lifted, eyes searching yours with concern. “Did you not like it?” he asked, genuinely unsure.
You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. “I really liked it,” you murmured, a playful glint in your eye.
That earned a boyish grin from him before he settled back down, cheek resting contentedly against your chest.
You ran your fingers slowly through his hair, feeling the tension melt from his body as he laid against you. The silence warm and soothing as you held him.
But after a few moments, you felt him shift.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible.
You blinked, glancing down at him. “For what?”
“For the curse. For doing that to you,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt. “You deserve better. I never wanted to hurt you. ”
You cupped his cheek, gently guiding him to look up at you. His eyes — those beautiful, stormy eyes — were clouded with worry.
“You didn’t hurt me, Cas,” you said softly, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “You could never hurt me. I knew what I was doing. I chose to be with you — curse or not.”
His lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. You leaned in and kissed him again, this time slow and comforting.
“I love you,” you whispered against his mouth. “And I want you”.
He exhaled shakily and tucked himself back into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.
“Thank you, I love you,” he said quietly.
You kissed the top of his head once more, letting your fingers trace idle shapes along his back.
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.
You collapsed onto Sam, Castiel draped over you both, bodies tangled in sweat slicked bliss. The motel room's stale scent was forgotten, replaced by the musk of sex and satisfaction.
Summary: Castiel feels a warmth he must share with you.
Warnings: Fluff
WC: 906
Read on ao3!
Prompt: "I am approximately 70% asleep right now, and you are interrupting my process." used from this list
The bunker was finally quiet.
The hunt had been long, ugly, and covered in mud. You’d helped gank a banshee, stitched up Dean’s shoulder, convinced a witness not to call the cops, and barely escaped a shower of broken glass. The post-hunt adrenaline had long since burned off, and by the time you finished the last load of laundry, your body ached in places you didn’t even know could ache.
All you wanted was to be horizontal.
Your bed welcomed you like an old friend, and the cool sheets pulled you into a soft, gentle embrace. You’d just sunk into that perfect sweet spot between wakefulness and unconsciousness—the mythical 70% zone—when:
FWUMP.
The unmistakable sound of wings filled the room. A breeze brushed your cheek, and the air shifted.
You didn’t even open your eyes. “Castiel…”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” came his deep, even voice from far too close to your face. “But this is important.”
You groaned. “Cas. My guy. My ancient celestial being.” You turned your face into the pillow. “I am approximately 70% asleep right now, and you are interrupting my process.”
A pause. “What process?”
You finally lifted your head just enough to glare blearily at him. He was perched on the edge of your bed like a confused gargoyle, trench coat still buttoned up, hands folded in his lap.
“The process of falling asleep,” you mumbled. “It’s delicate. It’s sacred. And you’re stomping around in it like a moose.”
He blinked, unoffended. “I see.”
You dropped your head again, sighing. “Okay. You have one minute. What’s so urgent?”
Castiel shifted slightly on the bed, clearly troubled. “There is a sensation in my chest.”
You blinked, then slowly raised your head again. “…Is it a heart attack? Because if it’s a heart attack, I need more than a minute.”
“No. I don’t believe I’m dying.” He placed a hand flat over his heart. “It feels like… fluttering. But also heavy. I observed it happening when I looked at you earlier. You were asleep on the library couch, and I found myself...unable to leave.”
Your sleepy brain tried to catch up. “You watched me sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Cas…”
“I didn’t stare,” he added quickly. “I just… stayed. In case something tried to harm you.”
Your tired heart melted just a little. “Okay, well. That’s kinda sweet. But why are you here now?”
He tilted his head. “Dean says the sensation may be affection. Or possibly indigestion.”
You laughed, curling into your blanket. “It’s not indigestion. Sounds like a crush, Cas.”
“A crush?” he echoed.
“A crush,” you said, yawning. “Or maybe more. You feel safe when I’m around, yeah?”
He nodded.
“And you care what happens to me?”
His expression softened. “Very much.”
“Then congrats. You’re in love.”
Castiel sat with that for a long moment, then blinked slowly. “Oh.”
You grinned into your pillow. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’”
“Would you like me to leave?” he asked carefully. “I’ve disturbed your sleep process.”
You reached out a hand without even opening your eyes. “No. Come here.”
He hesitated for half a second, then stood and peeled off the trench coat with almost reverent slowness before climbing under the covers beside you.
You immediately tucked yourself into his side, head on his chest, hand fisting the soft fabric of his henley. He was warm—not exactly body heat, but some kind of internal grace-temperature—and solid. Safe.
“This is nice,” he said, sounding slightly stunned.
“You’re nice,” you murmured. “But I swear, Cas, if you start glowing or angel-radioing while I’m asleep…”
“I won’t,” he said solemnly.
And just as you were drifting again, 80% there, the door creaked open.
Dean stood in the doorway in flannel pajama pants and a ratty Zeppelin tee, hair rumpled. He froze like a man who’d just walked in on something sacred and illegal.
Castiel didn’t move. He merely looked over at Dean and said, “She invited me into the bed.”
Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Raised a finger. Lowered it.
“…Okay, that’s… cool,” he said finally. “Just, uh. Keep the angelic mojo at PG levels, alright? This ain’t a Harlequin novel.”
“Dean,” you mumbled without opening your eyes, “if you say one more word, I’m getting Sam and telling him you sleep with a teddy bear named Zeppelin.”
Dean scowled. “You’re evil.”
“Goodnight.”
He muttered something about ‘damn cosmic beings stealing all the women’ before slinking back into the hallway.
Five minutes later, you heard another knock.
“Cas?” Sam’s voice called softly. “Dean said you’re in bed with Y/N. Is that… real?”
Castiel didn’t miss a beat. “It is. I am currently participating in a ‘sleepover cuddle scenario.’”
There was a brief silence.
“…Good for you, man,” Sam said, and you could hear the genuine warmth in his voice. “She deserves someone who’ll protect her like that.”
Castiel looked down at you, just as you murmured, “You hear that, angel boy? Even Sam ships us.”
He smiled, the expression soft and full of wonder. “Then I am most fortunate.”
You yawned and melted further into his arms. “Next time though… maybe declare your eternal love after I get to 100% asleep, okay?”
“I will take that into consideration,” he whispered, then pressed his lips gently to your forehead.
And this time, you slipped past 70%, past 100%, into perfect sleep—with an angel wrapped around you like the safest blanket in the world.
Castiel who thinks you’re more of an angel than he is.
Castiel who always accidentally looks above your head expecting a halo instead of looking at your eyes. He can see them on other angels, and it takes a minute for him to register why yours are missing. Even when he does look at your eyes it’s like he’s still searching for that bright light of grace inside you. Sometimes he gets frustrated that he can’t see it so he puts his head on your chest to hear your deeply human heartbeat.
Castiel who makes room for you to stretch your wings in bed but forgets you have none. He rests next to you on couches, beds, and in the back of Baby, always leaning a bit forward expecting big feathery wings tangling with his. He huffs with slight embarrassment at his posture when you softly correct him, and settles on getting tangled in each other’s arms instead.
Castiel who murmurs to you lovingly in Enochian thinking you know every language like the rest of the angels. When you questioningly hum after his words, he clears his throat with a “Oh, right. Humans.” He is quite set on teaching you a romantic thing or two when you have a free moment.
Castiel who is shocked when you tell him you don’t have an angel blade. He thought you’d lost yours in a fight, or that one of the boys borrowed it for a hunt. You were more of a shotgun user anyway.
Castiel who scrunches his nose in confusion when he sees you eating with the boys because angels don’t eat. He’d roam around you during mealtimes, watching the steam of your food or eyeing your lips as you eat. He started associating the taste of diner cheesecake with your kisses. He does appreciate your preference for jelly over jam, he can sense the ‘better’ particles in the air.
Castiel who tells stories from thousands of years ago like they were yesterday, thinking you’d recall living through them too. He’d have on a thousand yard squint, nose scrunched, asking if you remember watching dodo birds get hunted to extinction. You tell him again the year you were born, that you couldn’t have seen them. It prompts a brief trip to his lap, where you sit with your arms around his neck while he reads you Wikipedia articles about dodo birds (while he’s also correcting the information on the site).
pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader x bobby campbell
summary — bobby is a 19 year old virgin and erik, being the great brother that he is, decides that his girlfriend can help with that
warnings — 18+, explicit sexual content, virginity loss, cursing, mentions of body piercings (erik ofc), oral sex, mentions of weed, smoking cigarettes, threesome, erik just watches at first, unprotected sex, creampie
a/n — lord this one is wild and i genuinely hope this doesn’t count as inc3st
Bobby’s 19th birthday party was somehow already a disaster and a success at the same time. The house smelled like dollar store candles, pizza rolls, and Axe body spray. Music thumped too loudly through the old speakers Erik had found in someone’s garage last week, and the couch was half-covered in streamers and a suspicious stain no one had dared address.
There were too many people in the kitchen, the lights were too bright, and the snacks had long devolved into chaos, but Bobby? Bobby was thriving.
Wearing a backwards snapback that didn’t match his outfit, sunglasses inside, and a white tee a size too tight, he moved through the crowd like a human Labrador. Slapping backs, flexing biceps, waving a half-eaten slice of cake around like a sword. His voice boomed every few seconds—laughing too loud, misquoting memes from 2017 like they were hot off TikTok.
You were nursing a red solo cup of something too sweet, sitting on the arm of the couch when Erik came up behind you. You felt him before he even spoke, his hand sliding around your waist, breath warm near your jaw, always too close, too cocky.
“Dude, look at him,” Erik muttered, tone just low enough to make it feel like a secret. “You’d think we were celebrating his retirement.”
You turned your head, letting your temple graze his. “He’s happy.”
Erik made a face. “He’s a virgin.”
You snorted. “So?”
“He’s nineteen. And still a virgin. You know what happens if that doesn’t get handled soon?”
You raised an eyebrow, swirling the drink in your cup. “He turns into a werewolf?”
“No. Worse.” Erik took a long sip from his drink like it physically pained him to continue. “He develops an ego complex, falls down a Reddit hole, and two years later he’s blaming women on the internet for the fact that he can’t find the clit.”
You stared at Bobby, watching him bump chests with a guy he just beat at beer pong. His eyes sparkled like a puppy who just got told he was a very good boy.
You leaned a little closer to Erik, voice dropping into something silkier. “He is kind of hot, though.”
Erik stopped breathing. You could feel the shift in him—shoulders tensing slightly, head turning toward you in slow disbelief.
“What.”
You licked your lips, playing it up just to get a rise out of him. “I mean, he’s got those jock arms. Dumb energy. Big heart. Zero clue what to do with it. I could fix him.”
Erik just stared at you like you’d grown horns.
“You wanna cheat on me with my brother?”
“Not cheat,” you corrected sweetly, dragging a nail down his arm. “Help.”
He ran a hand down his face, visibly spiraling. “You are deranged.”
You leaned into his space again, lips grazing the shell of his ear, voice a teasing purr. “You’re hard, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” he hissed, way too fast. His jaw twitched.
You leaned back just enough to see the look in his eyes—half disbelief, half Oh no I’m into this. The kind of chaos only Erik could embody: territorial and turned on, pissed and amused all at once.
“So?” you prompted.
He stared at the floor for a beat, then the ceiling, then you. You watched his tongue press against the inside of his cheek before he exhaled like he was selling his soul to the devil.
“Alright. Let’s go help him.”
The house was quieter two hours later.
Empty red solo cups littered the counters. Someone’s jacket was crumpled over the microwave. A balloon floated lazily against the ceiling like it, too, had given up. Erik sat at the kitchen table, slouched back in a chair with one leg kicked out and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the overhead light, casting everything in a hazy yellow glow.
Bobby stumbled in, hair a mess, shirt rumpled, cheeks still flushed with leftover adrenaline. He looked like someone who had just been told he was awesome twelve too many times.
“Dude,” Bobby said, breathless, opening the fridge like he was searching for buried treasure. “That was the best party of my life. Did you see Trevor let me carry him up the stairs? I mean, I dropped him on the third step, but like… he laughed.”
Erik didn’t look up from the cigarette. “Congrats, man. You peaked.”
Bobby grabbed a bottle of something halfway expired and twisted off the cap, chugging like he was in a college movie.
“You’re in a good mood,” Erik muttered, finally meeting his gaze.
Bobby leaned against the counter, sipping more slowly now. “Yeah, well. It’s my birthday. Also, I think your girlfriend winked at me.”
Erik exhaled a long stream of smoke and tilted his head. “She did more than that, bro.”
Bobby blinked. “...What?”
Erik tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching the ember glow. Then he glanced up again, expression unreadable.
“She thinks you’re hot.”
There was a pause. Bobby frowned.
“Wait, like… joking hot or like—”
“Like she offered to take your virginity as a favor to society.”
Bobby’s jaw dropped, a bottle of Sprite halfway to his mouth. “What?!”
“She said you’ve got dumb energy,” Erik added, deadpan.
Bobby blinked. “I mean… I do, but—”
Erik pointed the cigarette at him like it was a moral compass. “Listen to me. I don’t know what kind of glow-up puberty gave you, but if you’re gonna start pulling that kind of attention, you need to know how to handle it.”
Bobby squinted. “Handle what? You’re not seriously saying—wait. Wait, are you mad?”
“Mad?” Erik scoffed. “No. I’m your older brother. I’m here to guide your dumbass into manhood.”
“That sounds like a cult pitch.”
“Shut up.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette balanced loosely between two fingers. “Look. You’re nineteen. You’ve got that whole boy-next-door thing going for you. Girls love that shit. But if you start swinging your dick around like a prize, you’re gonna crash and burn.”
Bobby raised a brow. “...This is weird advice coming from you.”
“Yeah, well.” Erik gave him a tight smirk. “That’s why I’m not telling you to be me. I’m telling you to take the shortcut. You wanna lose it? Fine. You want her to show you the ropes? Great. Just don’t be a creep about it. Don’t fall in love with your first lay. And never tell Julia.”
Bobby made a choking noise. “Jules would literally kill us all.”
“Exactly.” Erik stood up, stretched his arms overhead, his tank top riding up just enough to show a hint of ink. “So if anything happens… it didn’t.”
Bobby nodded slowly. “Right. Operation: Denial.”
Erik clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking. “That’s my boy.”
And with that, he walked off down the hall, dragging smoke and bad ideas behind him.
Bobby stood there alone for a second, holding the bottle and blinking at the dark kitchen.
“…Wait, am I about to lose my virginity?”
The next day, you were on the porch, sunglasses on, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Your legs were kicked up on the railing, Erik’s hoodie slouched over your frame like it lived there now. Hair a little messy. A smudge of something pink on your cheek. You looked like the aftermath of something that left a mark.
Bobby hovered in the doorway like he was approaching a tiger in stilettos.
“…Hey,” he said finally, voice cracking halfway through it.
You lowered your glasses just enough to look at him. “Morning, birthday boy.”
He swallowed. “So. Uh. Last night.”
You took a slow sip from your mug. “Mhm.”
“Did that… like… happen?”
You tilted your head, watching him squirm. “Define that, sweetheart.”
Bobby flushed. “The part where you and Erik were… talking about… you know.” He gestured vaguely at the universe. “Helping me.”
You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him for a moment, amused, your tongue pressing into your cheek like you were deciding how much chaos to unleash before noon.
“Yeah,” you said finally. “We were.”
Bobby blinked. “You were serious?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You think I wink at people as a joke?”
He made a small, confused hand motion. “I don’t know, I just figured it was like… ironic flirting. Y’know, like when people flirt with customer service workers so they don’t feel like dying?”
You leaned forward, placing your coffee down with a soft clink. “Bobby. You’re hot. Tall. Built like a linebacker. Dumb as bricks in the most adorable way possible. You think I wouldn’t want to ruin you a little?”
He stared at you like you just told him he was actually descended from the heavens. “Oh my God.”
You smiled slowly. “Still want my help?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then—softly, earnestly, with a kind of sacred awe—“I think I’d let you run me over with a truck.”
You laughed. Really laughed. Then stood up and ruffled his hair with both hands. “Good boy.”
Just then, Erik stepped onto the porch, shirtless, yawning, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.
He paused. Squinted at the two of you.
“…Are you guys flirting?” he asked, deadpan.
You didn’t miss a beat. “No.”
Bobby, nearly vibrating: “YES.”
Erik looked between you both, eyes narrowing. “Do not bang my brother before breakfast.”
You raised your mug in salute. “No promises.”
Later that day, Bobby found you alone in the living room. Erik had just left to pick up some tattoo supplies and probably a breakfast burrito the size of his ego. You were sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a crop top, one leg hooked over the armrest, flipping through a magazine like you weren’t plotting a moral collapse.
Bobby hesitated in the doorway like his conscience was still buffering.
You didn’t look up. “You gonna hover or sit?”
He obeyed immediately, flopping onto the couch cushion beside you like he’d been waiting for permission to breathe. “Okay, so—hypothetically—if this were to happen…”
You turned your head, one brow raised. “If?”
Bobby flushed. “When. When. Sorry. I’m still, like, mentally short-circuiting.”
You smirked. “Cute.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “So… Friday— Julia’s still on that cabin trip with her friends. Mom and Dad are outta town… So the house’ll be empty.”
“Except for us,” you said, giving him a slow, deliberate look.
He gulped. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… That’s good.”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “What time do you usually wake up on a Friday?”
“Uh. Ten?”
“Make it nine. I want you showered. Teeth brushed. Hair fluffed.”
He blinked. “Fluffed?”
You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something warm and smoky. “Bobby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. You’re about to be ruined for other women. The least you can do is smell good.”
He made a small whimpering noise. “Oh my God.”
You sat up and leaned toward him, eyes playful but sharp. “No breakfast burritos. No garlic. No Axe body spray. And wear those grey sweatpants.”
He blinked. “You noticed my sweatpants?”
You just smirked. “Everybody noticed your sweatpants.”
Bobby looked like his soul had momentarily left his body. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. This is fine. I’m fine.”
You reached over, gently tugged the drawstring of his shorts. “You better be.”
He swallowed hard. “Wait—where’s it gonna happen? My room? Living toom?”
You chuckled. “Please. The living room’s sacred ground. We’re using Erik’s room.”
His eyes widened. “Dude. That feels… wrong.”
You grinned. “Exactly.”
He choked on his own spit.
You leaned back again, casual and predatory all at once. “So. Friday. Nine a.m. Clean, quiet, ready. You knock once and Erik will open the door. And then…”
“Then?” he asked, eyes huge.
You smiled like a cat with a mouse under her paw. “Then I make you forget every crush you ever had.”
From the hallway, the front door creaked open.
Erik’s voice called out. “Yo! You guys better not be doing bonding shit in there!”
You called back smoothly. “We’re just talking!”
Bobby, under his breath, lips pale: “I think I’m gonna die.”
You glanced at him, tossed your hair back, and whispered, “Not before Friday, you’re not.”
Friday. 9:03 AM.
Erik’s room smelled like him—cologne, smoke, leather, and something distinctly male and reckless. The kind of scent that stayed on your skin, even after a shower. You were perched on the edge of his unmade bed, legs crossed, nails painted and gleaming under the soft morning light that filtered through slatted blinds.
Bobby stood in the doorway, looking like a crime about to happen. Grey sweatpants. White tee stretched over his chest. Hands fidgeting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden weight of his body. He looked at you, then glanced toward the corner chair.
Erik was already there. Slouched back, legs spread wide, black joggers riding low on his hips, coffee in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him. His gaze was unreadable, flicking from his brother to you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or light the match.
“You’re late,” you said, lifting an eyebrow as Bobby stepped inside.
“I—I had to shave. I didn’t want to be prickly. Or sweaty. Or like, too… I don’t know, eager.” Bobby’s voice cracked halfway through and he winced.
You smiled slowly, rising from the bed. “Relax. You’re not being sacrificed.”
Bobby swallowed hard, eyes wide as you walked toward him. He looked like he’d never seen a woman walk in his life.
You hooked a finger through his waistband and gently tugged him closer. “Let’s start slow.”
He nodded so fast it looked like a glitch.
You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheek, and leaned in, your lips ghosting over his before you pressed into him. His mouth opened on instinct, unsure and eager, but you kissed him like you had all the time in the world to teach him.
His hands hovered at your sides, too polite, too careful.
“Touch her,” Erik said from the corner, voice low and unbothered.
Bobby jerked slightly, blinking at him. “W-What?”
“Jesus, man,” Erik exhaled, eyes sharp but lazy, “you think she’s gonna bite?”
“She will,” you murmured, nipping Bobby’s bottom lip. “But only if you’re lucky.”
That seemed to short-circuit him. His hands slid to your waist, trembling a little, and you kissed him deeper, guiding him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him down gently, straddling him, hands in his hair, hips rocking just barely to test him.
And oh—he was already getting there. Poor boy was flushed, pupils blown wide, already hard against the thin barrier of his sweatpants.
Erik leaned back, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, watching. Not leering. Not possessive. Just… invested. Smirking. Maybe a little impressed.
“You’re really doing this,” he muttered, voice coated in lazy amusement. “Can’t say I didn’t think about it. But damn.”
Bobby pulled back slightly, panting, lips kiss-bruised. “Is this… like, is this weird? That you’re—”
“I’m here to supervise,” Erik said, deadpan. “Making sure you don’t cry or nut too fast.”
You bit back a grin. “Yeah, baby. This is hands-on mentorship.”
Bobby let out a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a prayer.
You leaned down again, this time slower, with a little more weight in it, your tongue sliding over his as you kissed him like he was something you’d waited for. Like ruining him was a favor you were doing for both of you.
Erik stretched, muscles rippling, his eyes dark now. “Don’t let him get lazy,” he said, voice molasses-slick. “If you’re gonna teach him, teach him.”
“Oh,” you purred, rocking your hips against Bobby’s slowly, “I plan on it.”
You pulled back from Bobby just enough to meet his gaze, your thumb brushing his swollen bottom lip. He looked wrecked already, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes dazed like he couldn’t believe this was real.
You dipped your head again, but instead of kissing him, your lips grazed his jaw, down to his throat, and then to the collar of his t-shirt.
“Take this off,” you murmured.
He obeyed immediately, tugging the shirt over his head with a clumsy kind of urgency. You didn’t rush. You just sat back and watched the reveal—broad chest, soft tan lines, that little trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He looked like a boy trying hard to be a man, and that innocence made your mouth water.
You slid your hands up his stomach, nails grazing skin just enough to make him twitch. “Not bad, birthday boy.”
He swallowed hard. “Should I—uh—should I take yours off too or—”
Erik cut in from the chair, voice like dry smoke. “Ask permission first, dumbass.”
You turned to shoot Erik a look, half grin, half warning. “He’s learning.”
Bobby blinked up at you. “Can I—can I take yours off?”
You tilted your head, teasing. “You gonna be gentle?”
He nodded so fast it made you laugh softly.
“Then go ahead.”
His hands were hesitant at first, brushing your hips, sliding up your sides to the hem of your crop top. You raised your arms for him, and he peeled it off slowly, like he was unwrapping something forbidden.
His eyes widened as you sat there bare above him—no bra, no shame. You leaned forward and tugged his hands up to your chest.
“Touch,” you said, tone low and warm.
He did. Carefully. Reverently. Like he wasn’t sure if it was a dream. From the chair, Erik exhaled a breath through his nose, blue eyes focused.
“You’re shaking,” you murmured, kissing Bobby’s jaw. “Still scared?”
Bobby let out a breathless little laugh. “Kinda.”
“Good.” You nipped his ear. “Means you’ll remember it.”
Your fingers slipped down his torso, grazing the waistband of his sweatpants.
“These go next,” you whispered. “But you’re not the only one losing layers.”
You stood slowly, watching his eyes follow every movement. You hooked your thumbs into your shorts and shimmied out of them, one side at a time, until they pooled at your feet. The air kissed your thighs, and Bobby’s mouth parted slightly when he saw your panties.
You stepped out and climbed back onto the bed, straddling him again.
“Okay,” you said softly, fingers ghosting along his waistband. “You ready?”
He nodded, almost too fast again.
Erik leaned forward slightly in his chair, elbows on his knees, that lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t pass out,” he muttered. “We just got to the good part.”
You slid closer to Bobby, breath warm against his skin, fingers tracing the line of his jaw before settling at the base of his neck. His pulse hammered beneath your touch, every nerve begging for something, anything, from you.
Without hesitation, you dipped your head, lips ghosting down his collarbone, pausing just above the waistband of his sweats. Your hands cupped his hips as you leaned in, eyes locked with his for a heartbeat before you let your mouth do the talking.
Slow, deliberate kisses trailed lower, teasing, coaxing, until you were tracing the edge of the fabric. Your tongue flicked out, slipping beneath the band, drawing a soft gasp from him that made your pulse quicken.
“Fuck... shit,” Bobby breathed out, voice trembling like it caught him off guard.
You worked with patience, hands sliding up his thighs as your lips parted around the tip, gentle at first like you were savoring the taste, learning every curve. His fingers tangled in your hair, breath hitching, eyes fluttering closed as you took his cock deeper into your mouth, slow and sure.
“God, that’s... fuck, yeah,” he gasped, hips pushing forward with a shaky urgency, desperate for more even as you kept him on the edge.
The heat between you spiked, his hips rolling forward on instinct, pressing closer as you took him in, careful to keep the pace just right—teasing enough to drive him wild but not so fast he lost control.
You looked up through your lashes, lips slick and swollen, and caught the raw need in his gaze. He was already undone, every breath shallow, every muscle tense.
“You good?” you murmured, voice thick with promise.
He swallowed hard, voice rough and ragged. “Never... never been better.”
You’re lost in the moment, every slow, teasing motion drawing Bobby deeper, his breath hitching and his hands clutching your hair like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes are half-lidded, desperate and stunned, like you’re literally stealing the air from his lungs.
From the corner, Erik’s voice cuts through the haze, low and sarcastic, like he’s calling the play-by-play on a goddamn championship game.
“Alright, folks—Bobby’s in the danger zone now,” he drawls, eyes locked on the scene like he’s got front-row seats. “Slowing the pace, but the crowd’s on edge. Can he handle the pressure?”
Bobby groans, muffled against his hand. “Dude... c’mon, s-stapH.”
Erik smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Oh, he’s begging already! That’s gotta be a first.”
You glance up briefly, biting back a grin before diving back in. Bobby’s hands grip tighter, hips twitching like he’s fighting a losing battle.
“Bobby’s defenses are breaking down—full surrender imminent,” Erik narrates like it’s the final seconds of overtime. “Can he hold out? Or is this gonna be a quick win for Team ‘Girlfriend’?”
“Dude—fuck—c’mon, man!” Bobby whines, voice shaky, lips pressed hard against you, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll save him.
You hum against his skin, teasing just enough to drive him crazy, fingers threading through his hair, grounding him even as his world spins.
Erik leans back, blowing out smoke, eyes gleaming. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you seal the deal. Bobby’s officially outplayed.”
Bobby groans again, breathless and defeated but grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies.
You finally pull back, letting him catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast, cheeks flushed like a champ who just scored. You lay back on the bed, parting your thighs for him. He takes a deep breath before climbing on top of you so he’s hovering just above your pussy.
Bobby's inexperienced but eager movements sent tingles through you, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. You watched him, heart fluttering at the sight of him, lost in concentration as he explored your body with tentative touches.
His tongue darted out tentatively, brushing against your folds, making you gasp softly. He looked up at you, eyes wide and questioning, clearly unsure if he was doing it right. You gave him an encouraging nod, threading your fingers through his hair gently.
"You're doing great, Bobby," you reassured him, voice breathy. "Just follow your instincts."
Emboldened by your praise, he leaned in closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin. He seemed to be figuring it out bit by bit, his movements becoming more confident as he tasted and teased you.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured against your skin, glancing up at you with a blend of trepidation and yearning. "I don't want to mess this up."
You smiled softly, cupping his cheek. "Just relax and enjoy this."
He nodded, determination settling in his gaze as he returned his attention to pleasuring you. His tongue delved deeper, not quite finding your clit yet.
Bobby looks up at you nervously, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You give him an encouraging smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair reassuringly.
"It's okay, you're doing great," you murmur softly, arching your back slightly to press your hips up towards his face invitingly.
Bobby takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly before diving in again. This time, his tongue glides across your slick folds with a bit more confidence, circling your entrance before darting inside teasingly.
Bobby’s doing his best. Honestly. He’s trying so hard, and you can feel the effort in every careful movement, every awkward adjustment like he’s solving a Rubik’s cube with his tongue. You let him keep going, because it’s sweet… but that sweetness doesn’t do much when it’s not quite hitting the spot.
From his place nearby, Erik’s been watching with a cigarette half-lit and an eyebrow cocked so high it might fly off his face. His arms are crossed, lip twitching like he’s been holding back commentary for a solid minute.
Finally, he exhales a sharp breath through his nose, flicks the cigarette into a tray, and stands up like a guy who's had enough of watching a YouTube tutorial done wrong.
“Okay,” he says, clapping once like a disappointed professor. “Move over, Bobby. That’s enough community service for one night.”
Bobby looks up, lips wet and confused. “Huh?”
Erik’s already kneeling down next to him, rolling his neck like he’s about to crack his knuckles and fix your entire day. “You gave it the ol’ college try, man. Really. I’m proud of you. But I can’t sit here watching you treat her like a Sudoku puzzle any longer.”
Bobby frowns. “I wasn’t—wait, is it that bad?”
You bite your lip, torn between laughter and arousal. “It’s not bad, it’s just… not illegal either.”
Erik grins, wicked and sure of himself. “Don’t worry, rookie. This is a team sport.”
And before Bobby can protest, Erik’s got one hand sliding over your thigh, the other brushing Bobby’s shoulder like a tag-in at a wrestling match.
“Pay attention, kid,” he murmurs against your skin, voice dark and low. “Class is in session.”
With practiced ease, Erik guides Bobby’s hands, adjusting the angle, encouraging the right touch. His voice drops low and teasing as he coaches, “Not too hard, don’t forget to listen. You feel that? Good. Keep that up.”
Erik's guidance transformed Bobby's touch from uncertain to confident. Under his brother's steady hand, Bobby found a rhythm, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, focused flicks of his tongue.
"That's it, just like that," Erik encouraged, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched Bobby work. His own arousal was evident, straining against his jeans as he knelt beside you both.
You found yourself lost in the sensation, back arching off the bed as Bobby's tongue circled your clit with growing skill. Erik's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder, urging him on, his own breath coming faster.
"Fuck, you're doing so good," Erik groaned, his other hand skimming up your thigh, teasingly close to where Bobby's mouth worked. "Keep going, just like that. Make her cum all over you."
Bobby groaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves. Erik's filthy words and the knowledge of them watching you together pushed you closer to the edge, your hips rocking instinctively against Bobby's face.
Erik watches intently from his position behind Bobby, his hand guiding the younger man's head as he whispers words of encouragement.
"That's it, just like that," Erik praises, his deep voice sending vibrations through Bobby's mouth directly to your core. "Use more pressure, and focus on her clit."
Bobby follows Erik's lead, latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling gently. His inexperienced enthusiasm is actually quite endearing as he explores your body with growing fervor.
Your breathing hitches as the dual sensations of Erik's guiding hand and Bobby's eager mouth overwhelm your senses. You thread your fingers through Bobby's hair, pulling him closer as your thighs begin to tremble.
"F-fuck..." you gasp out, your hips bucking involuntarily against Bobby's face as he brings you closer to the edge with every swipe of his talented tongue.
Erik leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as Bobby brought you to a shattering climax. You came apart between them, tremors wracking your body as Bobby lapped up your release, guided by Erik's knowing hands and gravelly praise.
Erik’s hands are already on your hips, mouth hot on your neck, when he starts shedding layers like he’s got somewhere better to be, but clearly, this is the main event. Shirt flung over the back of a chair, belt clinking as it hits the floor, boots kicked off without a second thought.
Bobby’s still sitting beside you, wide-eyed, probably rethinking every decision that brought him here, especially when Erik’s boxers hit the ground with zero hesitation.
And then—
“Bro,” Bobby chokes, voice cracking halfway through. “You have a piercing on your—on your dick?!”
He’s blinking like he just saw a crime scene. His hand lifts automatically, like he’s about to cross himself or call the authorities.
Erik doesn’t even flinch. He just smirks, one brow raised, stepping fully into view like a man very proud of his hardware.
“Prince Albert, baby,” he says casually, as if it’s just another tattoo. “Adds a little extra sparkle to the family jewels.”
Bobby’s still frozen, blinking rapidly. “Why would you do that to yourself?”
Erik shrugs, not missing a beat. “Because I like making people believe in God again.”
Your laugh breaks the tension, breathless and sharp, and Erik shoots you a wink before crawling back onto the bed like a performer who’s just dropped the mic.
Bobby’s still staring, somewhere between traumatized and deeply curious.
Erik throws an arm around his shoulders as he settles in. “Don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be grateful for every disturbing thing I’ve ever done.”
The air in Erik’s room is thick with heat and breathless energy, music humming low in the background like a pulse neither of them can ignore. You’re lying back, already flushed, your skin slick with anticipation, heart thundering like a drumbeat that only speeds up when Erik settles on one side of you and Bobby hesitates on the other.
“Come on, Bobby,” Erik murmurs, voice rough like gravel and whiskey, leaning over you to flash his brother a grin that’s half taunt, half dare. “Don’t get shy now. You’re not gonna break her.”
Bobby looks torn between holy awe and cardiac arrest, his eyes flicking from you to Erik and back again, lips parted as if searching for words but forgetting how they work. Still, he moves closer, drawn like gravity, and when his hand brushes your hip, it’s tentative, reverent.
You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him in with a soft, sultry pull. “You’re doing good, Bobby,” you murmur, and that’s all it takes.
His mouth crashes against yours, all nervous energy and clumsy hunger, but it works and you let him press you down into the sheets as Erik watches with that signature smirk that says he knew it would go like this.
“Christ,” Erik mutters, jerking himself off lazily as he sits back and watches. “This is better than pay-per-view.”
You arch into Bobby’s touch, and Erik finally pushes himself onto his knees with that casual confidence, settling near your face. Bobby turns his head for a split second—and freezes.
“Bro—” he chokes out, face going red. “You’re really just gonna let her suck you off? With that thing?!”
Erik just stretches, shameless and proud. “What, the piercing? You’ll thank me later. She definitely will. Besides do you think she never gave me a blow before?”
He slides behind you now, his chest warm against your back, lips grazing your shoulder. “Mind if I take over for a sec?” he murmurs, voice low enough that Bobby has to lean in to catch it. “You can watch and learn.”
You can feel Bobby nod before he even says anything, his eyes wide, lips wet and slightly parted. Erik’s hands ghost along your sides, slow and deliberate, and Bobby’s still kneeling at your thighs, his breathing uneven, like he’s caught between fascination and overload.
Then Erik reaches forward, guiding Bobby’s hand like he had earlier, but this time it's different—hungrier. More intimate. His voice is a murmur against your ear as he whispers instructions, half for Bobby, half for you.
“Just like that. Feel that?” He smirks as your body reacts, your breath catching. “She likes that. You’re doin’ alright.”
Bobby groans softly, his voice raw. “This is insane…”
“Yeah,” Erik says with a grin, “but you’re not tapping out, are you?”
The silence stretches and then Bobby shakes his head very eagerly, breathless. “Hell no.”
You pull him back to you with a smile that says good, your hands tangled in his shirt, Erik’s body flush against yours, all heat and teasing fingertips and tangled limbs.
And when you moan just loud enough, Erik lets out a laugh, smug and sinful.
“Happy birthday, baby brother.”
It’s happening—really happening—and Bobby’s frozen for a beat, like his brain just blue-screened mid-installation. One second he's hovering, nervous as hell, heart rattling in his ribs like a caged bird, and the next...
He sinks into you.
And that’s when his soul momentarily leaves his body.
His breath punches out of him like he’s been socked in the chest. His hands immediately grip the sheets like he’s trying not to float off the planet. Green eyes wide, jaw slack, a raw, involuntary noise tumbles out of his throat—somewhere between a gasp, a whimper, and a desperate "holy sh—"
You’re warm and tight and real, and for Bobby—who’s only ever known the cold, pixelated touch of incognito mode—it’s too much and not enough, all at once. His whole face flushes a deep, beet-red, and he literally pants over you like he just ran five miles barefoot uphill.
“Oh my god—oh my god,” he stammers, completely wrecked already. “It feels—this is—you’re—”
Erik just leans back against the headboard, grinning like he just sold front-row tickets to the most dramatic moment of Bobby’s life.
“Bro,” Erik says with a laugh, “You look like you just saw the second coming.”
Bobby can’t even look at him. His head dips, breath hitching, forehead brushing your shoulder as he moans, shaky and ruined. “I’m not gonna last—I can’t—dude.”
Erik smirks. “Nah, nah. You’re doing great. Just… maybe think about your taxes or baseball or something.”
“Why would I think about baseball?!”
“Exactly.”
You bite your lip to stifle a giggle as Bobby fumbles, overwhelmed and stunned and completely consumed. He looks up at you, eyes blown wide, voice breathless and reverent.
“You’re so perfect, I swear I’m—this is—thank you, oh my god—thank you.”
Erik just claps once from the sidelines like a proud coach watching his underdog score.
“Look at my boy. Whole personality rewiring in real-time.”
Bobby’s barely hanging onto reality at this point, he’s fully gone, moving with raw instinct now, like something ancient and primal just got lit up inside him. Every thrust is wild and needy, like he’s chasing something he doesn’t even have words for yet. He’s panting against your skin, muttering breathless nonsense like “so good, so good, I can’t—” over and over, caught somewhere between prayer and delirium.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding him as much as they’re clinging for dear life.
And Erik? Oh, he’s collected. Too collected. The exact opposite of his little brother’s desperate rhythm. He’s kneeling above you, mouth twitching into a smirk as he slides two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your head just the way he likes it.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice velvet-draped danger. “Don’t forget about me now.”
His hips move with an infuriating sort of control, slow and deliberate, as if he’s got all the time in the world to teach you exactly how he likes it. One hand holds your jaw steady, the other stroking over your hair like he owns the moment, because he does.
“Goddamn,” he groans as you take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you with laser focus. “You’re filthy. Look at you—wrecked on both ends.”
Behind you, Bobby moans—a high, desperate sound that he clearly didn’t mean to let out. “I—I’m gonna—oh my god—”
Erik tilts his head, peering over your shoulder like he’s checking in on a toddler making a mess. “Bobby,” he calls out, voice calm but amused. “Buddy. Pace yourself. This isn’t a sprint.”
Bobby’s too far gone to listen, though. He mutters something incoherent and doubles down, rocking into you with a groan that practically trembles in his throat.
Erik watches the two of you, biting down a grin. “Jesus. He’s like a damn dog in mating season.”
Then he looks back at you, voice dropping to something low and wicked. “Good thing I know how to take my time.”
Then—
Bobby cums. Hard. Inside of you.
Bobby’s still inside you, frozen like a statue, lips parted as his brain slowly catches up to what his body just did. He blinks. Once. Twice.
Then he breathes, “...Oh my god.”
You hum, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes still glazed with pleasure. “That good, huh?”
He looks like he just committed a crime in three states and turned himself in. “I—I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t—Erik’s gonna kill me.”
For a second, no one says anything.
The air is thick, sticky with sweat and something heavier, Bobby’s breath caught in his throat, your body still twitching with the aftershocks, and Erik?
Erik is staring.
Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… staring.
Bobby’s eyes widen, panicked. “I came in her.” Like it wasn’t obvious.
Erik tilts his head.
“Dude. You lasted two and a half minutes, blew your load in my girl?” Erik stops. Looks at him. Then at you. Then shakes his head with a low whistle. “The audacity…”
You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you could at least pretend to be mad.”
“I was mad,” Erik says, starting to smirk like the devil. “Until I saw the look on his face. He came like a choirboy seeing heaven for the first time.”
Bobby groans and drops his face into the pillow, mortified. You giggle, fingers running lazily through his hair. “You okay down there?”
“No,” he says, voice muffled. “I just committed emotional incest.”
Erik snorts. “Relax. If I was gonna lose it, I’d have done it the second you started moaning like a Disney prince in heat.”
Bobby peeks up, cheeks still flushed. “You’re not mad?”
Erik’s eyes flick toward you, his smirk softening for just a moment. “Nah. I’m territorial, not jealous. She’s still mine.”
You blink up at him, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “You’re definitely not mad?”
“I’m insulted,” he mutters. “But mostly turned on. That’s the problem.”
You're lying in the wreckage of what used to be a bed—sheets twisted, limbs sprawled, the air still heavy with sweat and something else too wicked to name. Erik's arm is slung across your waist like a claim, thumb idly stroking your skin. Bobby’s somewhere at the foot of the bed, looking like he just won the lottery and got hit by a bus at the same time.
It’s quiet.
Too quiet.
You stretch, all faux-innocent, and murmur into the air, “Y’know… Bobby’s kind of a natural.”
Both men freeze.
Erik’s thumb stops mid-stroke. His head turns, slow, eyes narrowing with surgical precision.
“I beg your pardon?”
You blink up at him, biting your lip, oh-so-casual. “I’m just saying. He was surprisingly good for a first time. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s done this before.”
From the foot of the bed, Bobby perks up. “Wait, really?”
Erik sits up like he’s been electrocuted.
“Oh my god,” he mutters. “You liked it?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I mean… the enthusiasm? Immaculate. And he—”
“Don’t,” Erik cuts in sharply, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence unless you want me to take your legs off at the knees with my mouth.”
You snort.
“Bobby, put some clothes on,” Erik barks suddenly, not even looking at him.
“Why?” Bobby asks, confused and still very much not moving.
“Because if you don’t, I might black out and do something unspeakable out of pure rage,” Erik hisses.
You hum, still wicked. “Jealous?”
Erik rounds on you with that devil’s grin curling at the corner of his mouth, the kind of look that promises vengeance and velvet sin. “No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, crawling over you like a storm rolling in. “Jealous is what I’d be if you didn’t scream my name louder.”
You smile sweetly. “I don’t remember whose name I screamed louder.”
Erik pauses.
Stares.
And then?
“Okay. That’s it.”
Suddenly you’re flipped onto your stomach with a low growl and a slap to your ass that echoes.
“Bobby, out.”
“Wait—”
“NOW.”
Bobby scrambles off the bed, dragging the sheet with him like a panicked toga. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You didn’t,” Erik calls after him. “She did. But now you both suffer.”
Erik watches Bobby stomp toward the door like he’s just been sentenced to exile, but the second Bobby’s hand hits the handle, Erik calls out, his voice rough but low, almost reluctant.
“Hey, dumbass… come back here.”
Bobby pauses. The door’s still cracked open, the hallway light spilling in, but he hesitates like he’s been yanked back by some invisible leash.
“You really wanna go out there alone after all that? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Bobby’s eyes flicker, and for a second, he looks like he wants to argue.
Erik holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Nope. Come here.”
Bobby gives a shaky breath and turns back.
Erik opens his arms with a grunt, pulling him into this unexpectedly tight, almost protective hug. His chest rumbles low as Bobby melts into the embrace, the tension draining from his shoulders before Erik pushes him into your arms.
“Dumbass,” Erik mutters, the edges of his lips twitching into something like a smile. “You’re lucky you got me. Nobody else would’ve put up with your shit today.”
Bobby laughs softly, voice muffled against your bare skin. “Thanks, man.”
Erik pulls back, brushing a stray hair from Bobby’s forehead, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. Now go put some clothes on before I change my mind and kick your ass again.”
